I continued staring blankly at the television, trying to convince myself that my mom was probably doing this for my own sake.
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"I didn't call you here to cry," he said coldly, his voice void of any emotion.
I turned away, wiping my tears, but they just kept flowing freely.
"You might be wondering why I'm still keeping you alive," he said, his tone suddenly serious.
"Yes," I answered, my voice genuine.
"Last night, my men did some digging into your background, and I found no dirt on you… but..."
He stood up abruptly, his tall figure looming over me, intimidating.
I took a step back with each of his movements.
Then he continued, getting closer, "You'll be staying here until I'm sure you're not a spy—or anything worse. And you don't want to know what I'll do if I find out you're lying."
My throat went dry. What if someone framed me? It felt like everyone was out to get me.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice how close he'd gotten until it was too late. Before I could move, he grabbed my waist, pulling me toward him.
Our bodies collided.
He whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my skin, "Don't get too comfortable. My gun's always close by."
A chill ran through me, and I flinched.
He released me and turned to walk away, but I called out, my voice soft and uncertain, "Mr. Grey, can I ask you something?"
He didn't respond, only tilted his head slightly.
I will take that as a yes.
"You're well-versed in all this… Do you really think I murdered my father?"
He chuckled, the sound low and mocking, before replying, "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You look like a fairy princess."
I blinked, taken aback. What?! Did he just call me a fairy princess?
"And besides, you literally fainted when I pointed an ordinary gun at you. Only an idiot would think you murdered him."
A strange sense of relief washed over me. For once, someone didn't think I was guilty.
Well, I wasn't sure about the fairy princess part, but still...
"So, you don't believe I killed him?" I asked, hope flickering in my chest.
Before I could finish, he turned and walked away, cutting me off.
Rude. Doesn't he know it's bad manners to walk out on a lady?
But maybe I over talked.
I walked back to the room, a weird sense of relief settling over me. Maybe it was just because I had a roof over my head again—though not necessarily safe people under it.
Who knew what would've happened if I'd ended up in Russia?
I stepped into the dressing room and froze. Everything was spotless, sparkling clean.
There were racks of clothes, each more beautiful than the last—different styles, from the latest brands.
Wow.
The shoes were even more dazzling.
I might just love it here—well, maybe.
I picked a black crop top that showed off my slim waist and paired it with a white jean skirt. The skirt had quirky designs but wasn't too revealing. The side ropes added a playful touch.
I slipped into some fluffy white bunny slippers and stood in front of the mirror.
I looked good. Now, I just hoped he wouldn't complain about the outfit being too revealing or accuse me of trying to seduce him. What a drama queen.
I stepped out of the bedroom and made my way downstairs. Everything was perfect . The decorations, the furniture—it was all sparkling clean, and the whole place was painted a gleaming white.
He's really got the place looking nice, I'll give him that.
My stomach growled, snapping me out of my admiration.
I looked around, spotting some guards by the entrance and a few patrolling the halls. I decided to head downstairs and ask where I could find something to eat.
Just as I approached one of them, I heard a familiar voice.
"Do you need something?"
It was the woman from earlier, the one who'd helped me in the morning.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm really hungry."
"Oh, you can sit and wait for me in the dining room. I'll bring something for you."
I smiled. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. It's my job," she said, before heading off.
I sat down at the table, waiting patiently for her.
About ten minutes later, she arrived with several other women, each carrying trays piled high with food.
My mouth watered.
All this... for me?
The food was laid out in three courses—appetizer, main dish, and dessert. A perfect, balanced meal.
I chose grilled meat and meatballs for the appetizer, rice and chicken for the main dish, and a fruit salad for dessert.
I told her I was happy with my choices, and she nodded, signaling the others to take the rest away.
Wait... are they really planning on throwing all that food out?
Well, he's got plenty of money, so I guess it doesn't matter. I'll enjoy my little privileges before he decides I'm not worth the trouble.
I finished every bite, even though I could hardly fit in the fruit salad. I decided to keep it for later, so I grabbed the bowl and headed back upstairs.
When I entered the kitchen to drop off my plates, the maids looked surprised.
"Miss, please don't bring your plates to the kitchen," one of them said, her eyes wide. "You're the boss's guest—he won't like it if he finds out."
I paused.
They have no idea I'm not actually his guest. I'm just a nuisance to him.
But when I realized what they meant by "getting rid of us," I decided to comply for their sake.
"Alright, I understand," I said softly.
"Thank you, Miss," they replied, and I gave them a small smile before leaving.
On my way upstairs, I was so distracted counting the fruits in the fruit salad in my hands that I didn't notice the person in front of me until it was too late.
I collided with someone, and the bowl shattered on the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.
I bent down to pick up the pieces of glass, muttering in a childlike voice, "Why weren't you looking? I was planning on eating that..."
The words died in my throat when I looked up and met the polished black shoes standing before me.
Oh no... please don't be who I think it is.
My heart skipped a beat.