I dropped the call because I couldn't stand Prisca's panic. That girl underestimated me.
I paid attention to the footsteps that approached my pass way. They were slow—too slow. Meticulous. Measured. I quickly grabbed a metal candle stand by my bedside and tightened my grip, my body pressed against the wall beside the door. My breath held hostage in my throat.
To be honest, I was scared. I haven't had to do these sneaky sneaky thing in a long time. The estate was secured, who would sneak into the house like this?
For a second I thought it was Anne, maybe she changed her mind, maybe she took the next flight. Then, I heard another creak.
Then, silence.
I had to find out who that is and confront them for making my heart skip this way. I counted to three in my head. One... two... I swung the door open on three and raised the candle stand high, ready to strike. My scream caught halfway in my chest when I saw a man standing there.
And not just any man—Jim.
Anne's oily, cologne-drenched, permanently-smirking boy toy. The sugar boy, the lover boy. I never liked him, he has this disturbing aura.
He flinched back, arms up, eyes wide. "Jesus Christ, Sidney! Are you crazy?"
I stopped mid-swing, panting. My arms shook from the force I'd almost thrown. The candle stand clattered to the floor. "Oh my goodness ! You startled me"
Then he gave me that side smile, I realised immediately. What was he doing here?
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked.
Jim lowered his arms slowly and took a step inside my room. "Nice to see you too, sweetheart."
I stepped in front of him, blocking the doorway. "Excuse me, you didn't answer my question."
He gave me that infuriating smile—the one that made his teeth look too white, too straight, like he paid for them with Anne's credit card. Probably did. "Anne gave me a key months ago, remember? She said I could come by whenever."
"I remember that but, Anne's not home, and this is not the way to her room" I said sharply. "And you don't just walk into people's houses unannounced at four in the morning."
He chuckled and stepped forward again, brushing past me like he owned the place. "Well, I wasn't expecting a welcoming committee, but you swinging a damn weapon at me? That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"
I slammed the door shut and turned. "I thought it was a thief, an intruder. Please get to the point, Jim. Why are you here?"
He wandered away to the sitting room like it was his, running a hand through his gelled blond hair. He wore one of those tight V-neck shirts that clung to his gym body like a second skin, sleeves short enough to flex his arms even when they didn't need flexing.
The guy reeked of entitlement and Armani cologne.
I followed him,
"Just felt like checking in on you," he said. "Anne mentioned she'd be away tonight, and I thought, 'Poor Sidney, all alone in this big house.'" He turned and smiled, flashing dimples that never quite reached his eyes. "Thought maybe you could use some company."
I crossed my arms. "I'm not lonely. I'm working. That's what I do here. Work. Not entertain."
Jim stepped closer. "Come on. Don't be like that. I've always thought you were... special."
I tilted my head, forcing a dry laugh. "Special? You mean the help?"
His grin widened. "Don't sell yourself short, sweetheart. You're way more than that. I've seen the way you move around this place. Quiet, graceful. Like a cat. It's sexy."
I rolled my eyes. "Wow. What an honours. Objectified by a man who still wears sunglasses indoors."
He chuckled again, but it didn't feel lighthearted anymore. He was watching me too closely now. His smile had that edge—that predator's glint I'd seen in certain men back in China, the ones General Choi warned me about.
I stepped back a pace. "You should go, Jim."
He tilted his head. "You sure? I mean, you're up, I'm up—"
"I said leave."
"You're playing hard to get. That's fine." His voice dropped an octave. "I like the chase."
I narrowed my eyes. "Back in China, we have a name for men like you."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What's that?"
"Xìaliú de zhū." I said, my accent sharper than usual.
He frowned. "What does that mean?"
I smiled sweetly. "Low, disgusting pig."
It took a beat. Just one second for the confusion to settle in. Then his smile dropped. His nostrils flared.
"You're gonna regret that," he growled, stepping forward.
I didn't move. I stood my ground like Choi had taught me. Feet planted. Spine straight. But my heart started pounding—not from fear, but from cold, calculating alertness.
"You think you're better than me?" Jim said, closing the space between us. "Just 'cause you talk some fancy language and act all innocent?"
"I think you should leave before I break something you value."
His eyes burned. "You think I won't touch you because Anne pays you?"
Before I could respond, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His grip was tight, hard. I winced.
"Let go," I hissed, trying to yank free.
His other hand grabbed my waist. I jerked back, but he slammed me against the wall. His breath was hot and heavy on my cheek, his body pressing into mine.
"Jim!" I shouted.
His hand went to my thigh, sliding under the hem of my sleep shirt.
The next moment was instinct.
My knee rose with brutal precision—straight into his groin. He let out a howl, doubling over. I shoved him off, and he collapsed to the floor, cursing.
"You crazy bitch!" he spat, curled on the rug like a wounded animal.
"I warned you," I said coldly, panting.
He was furious, he glared at me for a second then forges at me to attack me, very unexpectedly.
Thud!