Anastasia’s eyes snapped open. The first thing she noticed was that she was alone in the massive bed. The space beside her was cold, the sheets smoothed over. Damian was gone. Good!
Her fever had finally broken, but as she tried to sit up, a deep ache rippled through her exhausted muscles. She glanced toward the windows, and her heart instantly dropped into her stomach.
Bright, glaring morning sunlight was pouring into the room.
Oh no. No, no, no!
Panic seized her. It was already late morning. Her early shift at the café was already halfway over. She had missed it completely.
"I’m late," she panicked, throwing the heavy blankets off her legs. "I’m so late."
She scrambled out of bed, her eyes frantically scanning the luxury bedroom for her belongings. Instead, her gaze landed on the coffee table in the corner. Resting there was a neatly folded pile of fresh clothes.
Did he prepare this for me? She thought, frowning.
She grabbed the outfit and rushed toward the bathroom door, desperate to change out of the oversized shirt she was currently wearing... but the moment her hand touched the fabric of her collar, she froze.
A cold sweat broke out on her skin as a terrifying realization hit her.
The clothes she was wearing right now... were not her own. They weren’t the cheap, rain soaked garments she had been wearing last night.
Where are my clothes? Her mind raced. And how did I get into these? Did he... did Damian change me?
A flush of deep shame and anger burned her cheeks. How had she been so utterly exhausted that she hadn’t even realized someone was undressing her last night?
She gripped the fresh clothes tightly in her hands, forcing the thoughts away. "This is no time to think about it! I’m getting late!"
Pushing past the panic, she turned on the shower. Thankfully, mild, hot water immediately poured down, soothing her aching body as she washed up as fast as humanly possible.
Once dried, she slipped into the fresh pair of clothes. The fabric felt impossibly soft and luxurious against her sensitive skin. Out of habit, her eyes caught the tiny designer price tag tucked inside. Anastasia winced, quickly tucking it away.
Of course it’s expensive, she thought bitterly. I could work a hundred shifts at the diner and still never afford it.
Taking a deep breath, she walked back into the bedroom and slowly peeked out of the door.
The vast hallway outside was completely dead. "Why is it so silent?" She whispered to herself.
Nervous, she began to tiptoe down the grand hallway, her bare feet pressing into the plush carpets. She kept her eyes peeled, hoping she could just find the main exit and quietly slip away before anyone noticed... but her hope shattered the moment she reached the grand foyer.
Her worn out shoes were gone. Her ruined clothes from last night were nowhere to be found.
That devil must be behind this, she realized, her jaw tightening. Damian is definitely making sure that I won’t run away.
"Miss Vance?"
The sudden, formal voice from behind made Anastasia gasp in shock. She whirled around, her heart hammering against her ribs.
An older man in a pristine, pressed suit stood there, watching her with a polite, neutral expression.
"Who... who are you?" she stammered, backing up a step.
"I am the butler," the old man introduced himself with a slight bow. "I was just looking for you in the master bedroom to check on your condition... but I see you are already up."
Anastasia tried to steady her voice, wrapping her arms around herself. "I need to leave now. I’m already incredibly late for my work. Can you please just show me where the exit is?"
The butler didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes slowly drifted downward, looking directly at her bare feet on the polished marble floor.
"Perhaps you should join Master Sterling downstairs for breakfast first, Miss Vance," the butler suggested, his tone perfectly smooth. "Afterward, I will see to it that we find you some... wearable shoes."
Anastasia didn’t miss the subtle hint of a taunt in his voice. He was clearly referencing the state of her old, worn out shoes from last night.
A sting of humiliation hit her, but she swallowed her pride. She didn’t really have a choice.
She was starving, her stomach was practically turning inside out, and she couldn’t exactly walk onto the New York streets completely barefoot. Besides, there was no point in rushing to the café now. She was already so late that her manager would deduct her pay for the entire day anyway.
"Fine," Anastasia whispered, nodding stiffly. "Lead the way."
The butler led her down a grand sweeping staircase and into a sunlit dining room.
The space was breathtakingly large, but all Anastasia could look at was the man sitting at the head of the long marble table.
Damian Sterling.
He sat in absolute, calm confidence, looking immaculate in a tailored suit as he cut into his breakfast. There wasn’t a single hint of exhaustion on his sharp features.
The butler gave a low, respectful bow to Damian. "Miss Vance has arrived, Master Sterling."
Without waiting for a reply, the older man turned on his heel and left the room, closing the heavy double doors behind him. Anastasia was left completely alone with the devil.
For a long, agonizing minute, the room remained dead silent. Anastasia stood awkwardly at the edge of the room, her bare toes digging into the expensive rug. Damian didn’t even look up. He simply continued to eat his breakfast as if she weren’t even there.
What is his problem!
The sheer disregard made her blood boil. Desperate to break the suffocating silence, she cleared her throat loudly to get his attention.
Damian’s knife scraped lightly against the porcelain plate. Without lifting his gaze, his voice cut through the air, cold and smooth. "If you still have the flu, Anastasia, I suggest you stand very far away from me."
Anastasia’s jaw dropped. A wave of deep offense rushed through her. "I don’t have the flu," she snapped, her voice trembling slightly. "I was just exhausted."
Glancing at the table, her stomach let out a quiet, traitorous growl. The spread was grand... fresh fruits, warm pastries, eggs, and freshly squeezed juice.
Deciding to ignore his arrogance for the sake of her burning hunger, she walked over and pulled out the chair directly opposite him.
But just as she was about to lower herself onto the seat, Damian’s dark eyes snapped up. They locked onto hers with a sudden, heavy intensity that froze her in place.
"Did I tell you to sit?" He asked, his tone dropping dangerously low.
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