Amelia Lyrax let out a long, exhausted sigh as she sank into the warm water of her luxurious bathtub. The dim golden lighting reflected off the marble walls, casting a soft glow across the bathroom. A long day at the photo shoot had left her body sore, and this—sinking into a warm bath with a glass of white wine in hand—was her well-earned reward.
The only sound in the room was the gentle sloshing of water as she shifted, her head resting against the edge of the tub. Slowly, tensions melted away from her muscles.
Then, she heard it—a faint rustle.
She paused, her brows furrowing slightly, but dismissed it. Probably just the AC making strange noises again.
But then came a series of thumps.
Her eyes snapped open. That definitely wasn't the AC. It sounded more like footsteps.
Amelia set down her wine glass with a soft click against the glass tray beside her. Her gaze darted around, searching for the source of the noise. Her eyes landed on the open bathroom door, giving her a clear view of her bedroom. There, her sleek black suitcase lay on the floor, tossed there after returning home too tired to unpack.
But now… now it was wide open.
Her heart stopped. A thousand horrible scenarios flooded her mind. What if someone had broken in? No, that was impossible. Who would fit inside her suitcase?
Then there was another long series of footsteps.
Her body moved on instinct. She shot up from the tub, hastily grabbing a hoodie and pants.
'Well, that settles it. Someone is definitely here,' she thought as she exited the bathroom. As she passed the kitchen, her hand darted out, grabbing the first thing she could find to defend herself—a heavy-duty cast iron frying pan.
'This should do. You chose the wrong house to break into,' she thought, her grip tightening on the pan.
She crept through the bedroom, the laundry room, the living room—every room in her house—but there was no sign of the intruder.
'Where on earth could they be hiding?!'
Then, it clicked. If she were an intruder, where would she hide?
The answer came immediately: the wardrobe.
She made her way to the large wardrobe in her bedroom, every step measured.
"Come out now, intruder," she called, her voice cold as ice.
There was a shift, the creak of the wardrobe door, and then he stepped out—a man dressed in dark, perfectly tailored clothes that looked far too polished for someone hiding in her wardrobe. Amelia's eyes widened in disbelief. Who wears that while breaking into someone's house?
Before she could think further, her instincts took over. Without hesitation, she swung the pan at his chest. The metal collided with a loud clang. The impact wasn't enough to knock him down, but it sent him stumbling back. He blinked at her as if she'd interrupted his day rather than caught him trespassing in her apartment.
"Seriously? A frying pan?" His voice was calm, almost amused, as if this inconvenience were more of a mild inconvenience to him. A smirk tugged at his lips.
Amelia's grip on the pan tightened, her heart racing. She didn't have time for his sarcasm.
"Who the hell are you?!" she demanded, her voice shaking slightly.
"Well, that's one way to say hello," he teased, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Not quite the welcome I was expecting." He smirked.
Amelia tightened her hold on the pan, ready to strike again.
"One last chance. Who on this planet earth are you?!" she yelled, her patience running thin.
The man, now sitting on the floor, raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a confident smirk.
"I'm the guy who's probably going to make you rethink your choice of home security. Though it's not every day you'll see a guy this handsome hiding in your wardrobe, you know? So, you must be very lucky." He grinned.
Amelia just stared at him. She didn't know whether to be afraid or angry. He had an arrogant look about him that only fueled her irritation.
"Lucky? No, YOU'RE lucky I didn't break your skull open with this pan."
The man gave her a teasing glare.
"Oh, I'm sure your aim's perfect. I'd hate to see the pan dented, you know," he teased, clearly enjoying riling her up.
Amelia's grip on the pan loosened slightly, and she let out a long exasperated sigh.
"This is insane," she muttered, shaking her head.
"Look, I don't know who you are or what you're doing here, but I don't have time for this." She took a step back, still holding the pan in front of her, though it was starting to feel a little ridiculous.
The man, however, seemed unfazed.
"I'm not going anywhere if that's what you're thinking."
"Right," Amelia snapped. "And I'm just supposed to trust you? After you got into my suitcase, broke into my house, and I don't know, maybe planned to rob me or worse?"
"Rob you?" His smirk widened, but there was a hint of something darker in his eyes now.
"I think you'll find I have no interest in your things. Not when I'm more intrigued by you."
Amelia froze. There was something unsettling about the way he said it, but she refused to let herself be intimidated.
"You think you can show up and expect me to believe your excuses?" she asked, voice hard.
"I don't need excuses, and neither do you. You're about to find out more about me than you might want to," he replied, slowly standing up.
Amelia bristled at the implication, but her instincts screamed at her to get out of this bizarre situation.
"Listen," she said, voice sharp, "I don't know what games you're playing, but I'm done. You're leaving now, or I'm calling the cops."
The man's expression darkened for a moment before he chuckled darkly. "If you think calling the cops will help, by all means. But you'll only end up regretting it."
Amelia didn't know what to make of his words, but she felt a shiver run down her spine. There was something about him that felt dangerous, yet oddly magnetic. But she wasn't about to let herself get pulled in so easily.
"Just leave," she said firmly, trying to sound more confident than she really felt. But the man didn't move an inch. Instead, he looked at her, studying her face with an intensity that made her stomach flutter uneasily.
"You're not getting rid of me that easily, you know," he said quietly, his voice low but carrying a hint of something… deeper.
Amelia was starting to regret engaging with him, but she knew one thing for sure: she couldn't let him walk all over her. Not now. Not ever.
With a sigh, she raised the frying pan again, her knuckles white against the handle.
"I mean it," she warned.
The man's lips curved into a smirk.
"As you wish, Miss Lyrax. But I'll be seeing you again soon."
Amelia's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. How did he know it? Before she could ask, the man turned and walked toward the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder one last time.
"I hope you're ready for what comes next," he said, his voice low and meaningful, before leaving and closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Amelia took a deep breath, her mind still swirling from what had just happened.
What she didn't know was that the strange series of events she'd just walked into was only the beginning.