Isabelle slipped into her clothes and sat on the bed, nerves coiled tight. Her thoughts kept drifting back to him.
'He said I was tempting...'
A blush crept up her cheeks.
'Tsk. He promised to send someone immediately,' she hissed inwardly. 'So frustrating.'
Her gaze fell to the floor, but her mind wandered home.
'Lisa's probably panicking...'
A faint smile tugged at her lips. Lisa's face appeared in her mind—hazel eyes wide, probably pacing like a drama queen.
Isabelle's chest tightened, tears threatening.
Lisa was her childhood friend—they were still inseparable. They even worked as waitresses at the same restaurant.
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
Knock! Knock!
Isabelle tried to stand, but the pain in her leg came back, sharper this time.
She lay back in bed.
"Come in," she said.
The door opened, and someone stepped into the room, shadows stretching behind him.
"My lord said to take you home," a masculine voice said.
'Your lord?' she thought. She didn't dwell on it; almost everyone here called him that… she just didn't understand why.
She looked up to see him.
He wore a plain blue shirt and black jeans—surprisingly ordinary for someone from that golden palace.
"My phone?" she asked, her face unreadable, hand outstretched.
"Oh, sorry. I almost forgot. He also said I should hand this over." He walked forward and placed the phone in her hand.
The moment it touched her palm and she clasped it, relief flooded her chest like it was life itself.
'Nothing compares to the joy of a smartphone,' she thought.
'I hope that pervert charged it,' she added.
She pressed the power button, and the screen lit up.
She sighed in relief at the familiar white and blue colors flashing across the display.
Once the phone booted, she scrolled through the screen, checking if anything looked off.
She dove into the settings, looking for anything that might show it had been tampered with.
'Who knows what he's done to my phone,' she thought.
But everything looked normal.
The guy stood to the side, watching her with mild amusement.
'She's funny,' he thought.
'I need to call Mom and Dad... and Lisa. They must be so worried,' she thought.
She opened the dialer and tapped on the contact: Mom.
The phone rang and rang—no answer.
She tried again.
This time, someone picked up.
"Isabelle, is that you?" a croaky, aged voice asked.
"Yes, Mom. It's me." She blinked hard, but a tear slid down her cheek anyway.
She had never spent the night away from home— except for sleepovers at Lisa's place, which her parents were aware of and fine with. So she could feel the fear and tension in her mother's voice.
"Where have you been, daughter? We were worried. We thought you had been kidnapped!" her father's sharp, scolding voice rang out from the speaker.
'It's so good to hear your voice, Dad,' she thought.
"It's a long story. I'll explain everything when I get home today," she said.
"Okay. We'll be waiting," he replied.
"I'll hang up now, but I'll be home soon. Today," she said, then ended the call.
She wiped another tear from her cheek.
'I feel bad for making them worry like this,' she thought.
Her eyes still stung from the tears, but a grin cracked through as she scrolled to the one person who'd scold her even worse than her dad.
Big Head, the contact read.
Seeing the name, Lisa's image flashed through her mind.
Hazel-brown eyes. Soft lips that made her a stunner—especially when she wore that killer expression. Twirling her blonde hair with her fingers in a sassy manner, biting her lip seductively.
Lisa always attracted guys with her flirty attitude, while Isabelle pushed them away with her ice queen persona.
Isabelle was used to it. She didn't mind. She didn't actually care.
She dialed the number, and it was answered on the first ring.
She pulled the phone slightly away—Lisa was on speaker.
"Hey, idiot!! Where the fuck have you been?"
"Calm down, Lisa. It's a lot—I'll explain."
"Explain what? You think you can just leave me whenever you want and not call?"
"I'll explain. I'm coming back today. I promise I'll tell you everything when I'm back."
"You know what? I'm pissed—like, really pissed—so prepare yourself. You've got a whole lot of questions to answer when you get back!" Lisa said and hung up.
'Phew,' Isabelle thought, wiping sweat from her forehead.
Her best friend could be feisty when angry—really feisty and sassy.
She turned off the screen and looked at the man beside her.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"I'm Kane," he muttered, already turning toward the door. "Can we move now?"
"Yes."
She tried to stand up.
"Ugh!" she groaned in pain and collapsed back.
Kane rushed toward her and helped her up.
She stood, pain shooting through her leg, but managed to walk with Kane's help.
As they walked down the stairs, she looked at the polished black tiles, the luxurious surroundings, and the ultra-modern facilities.
A pang of sadness hit her.
'Not even twenty-four hours, and I'm already attached to this house,' she thought.
As they reached the double doors that led outside, she saw Rasmus.
Their eyes met. Her eyelids fluttered. She quickly turned away, afraid to meet those piercing blue eyes.
He said nothing and walked through the door.
With Kane supporting her, she followed and stepped outside.
Then she slipped.
She didn't know how or why—but she slipped.
Suddenly, she found herself in a pair of strong arms, held bridal-style like in those Korean dramas she loved.
She looked up, her heart thumping wildly, adrenaline rushing through her veins.
She was staring into those same blue eyes. His mask highlighting them, giving them focus.
The exact ones she had been trying so hard to avoid.