His gaze is so steady, so unyielding, that it feels as though he’s dissecting me, pulling apart each memory, each scar, each hidden vulnerability.
Finally, he speaks, his voice low and smooth, each word sharp and deliberate. “Do you know why you’re here, Cathy?”
My stomach twists, the question catching me off guard. I force myself to meet his gaze, feeling a surge of defiance despite the nervous flutter in my chest. “I’m here because I needed a job. Ms. Grant hired me a couple of hours ago.”
A faint smile touches his lips, cold and knowing. “A job, yes,” he murmurs, as if he finds the word amusing. “We all want to work, don’t we? Some reason to get out of bed in the morning. Earn our keep.”
He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re in my home because I allow it. No one enters or leaves here without my say so. Not alive, anyway.”
His smile grows even colder. “I’ve been watching you for some time, Cathy. Watching your choices, your mistakes. I thought I might have to come snatch you at the aisle. Thought you might never leave that piece of shit fiancé of yours.”
A chill runs down my spine, but I try to keep my composure, refusing to let him see my fear. “You don’t know anything about me.”
His eyes gleam, a hint of something darker sparking in their depths. “Oh, but I do.” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that wraps around me like smoke. “I know you’re twenty-three. I know you worked as a waitress until you moved to New York to live in a shitty little death trap.
“I know about the nights you spent wondering if your mother would ever be proud of you. I know how you tried to find traces of your father in old photos, searching for answers that never came. And I know about your ex-fiancé, Jimmy Holland. And the night he tossed you out onto the roadside as if you were nothing but trash.”
I feel the color drain from my face, his words striking with surgical precision, each one hitting a nerve I thought I’d buried. My heart races as I try to make sense of it, my mind spinning.
How could he possibly know these things, these intimate, broken parts of me? The realization seeps into me, sending a fresh wave of fear. He’s been watching me, even stalking me, his eyes hidden in the shadows of my life.
And then he says the words that send an ice-cold shiver through me. “I was there that night, Cathy. I saw what he did to you, and I was the one who called for help. Don’t you remember?”
His expression softens, but only a fraction, and he nods, his eyes unblinking. “Yes,” he says simply. “I saw everything.” There’s no hint of apology or regret in his voice, only an unyielding certainty, as if this had always been the plan. “Iarranged for those vacancies to go into the papers. I made sure you got to the top of the applicant list when you applied.”
“But why?”
“Because it is simpler for the spider to wait in the web than for it to chase the fly, don’t you think?”
A part of me wants to scream but the weight of his gaze holds me captive. I feel trapped, like I am caught in a spider’s web.
His gaze narrows, as though he can see the spark he’s ignited, and a faint, almost predatory smile touches his lips. “You deserve justice,” he continues, his tone coaxing, as though he’s offering me a gift. “Revenge. I can give you that, Cathy. Make sure Jimmy pays for what he’s done. But there will be conditions.”
Part of me wants to say no, to back away from the dark promise in his voice, but there’s something in his words that pulls me in, that makes me want to lean closer, to hear what he’ll say next.
It’s as if he’s casting a net around me, each word a thread that tightens, drawing me closer to him. I catch myself almost leaning forward, hanging on every syllable, and quickly pull back, trying to regain control of my own thoughts.
“What conditions?” I ask, my own curiosity betraying me.
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that his presence fills the room, suffocating and thrilling all at once. “If you accept my offer,” he says softly, his voice like velvet, “I’ll make sure no one will ever harm you again—not even the memories of your past. You’ll be safe for life. Protected. Untouchable.”
The words send a shiver through me, a dark promise that stirs something deep within. It’s almost too tempting, the idea of finally being free of the fear that’s haunted me, of having someone take on the weight of my pain, to shield me from it.
For a moment, a brief, flickering moment, I feel a glimmer of hope. But then his gaze sharpens, an intensity lurking behind it that makes my stomach twist.
I can feel it in the air, unspoken yet present, the understanding that this isn’t a selfless offer. Ivan wants something in return, something he hasn’t revealed, and that thought prickles at my skin, sending a warning through me.
I should walk away, keep my distance from him, but it’s as though I’m caught in a web of his making, his gaze stripping away my defenses and unraveling every carefully guarded thought.
“Why would you do this for me?” I ask, forcing myself to speak, to break the tension that presses down on me like a weight. “What’s in it for you?”
He tilts his head slightly, watching me with a look that’s both amused and dangerously knowing. “Let’s just say I have my reasons,” he replies, his voice soft but edged with steel. “And I think you’ll find some align with yours. Marry me, give me an heir, and we both get what we want.”
For a moment, his words hang in the air like a thunderclap after lightning, splitting my thoughts wide open. Did he just say... marry? My brain scrambles to process it, but my mouth moves faster. “What?” The word bursts out, more a gasp than a question.
He doesn’t flinch. His expression remains disturbingly calm, his dark eyes locking onto mine like a predator fixing on prey. “You heard me,” he says, his tone as unyielding as stone. “Marry me.”
My legs feel weak, like the ground beneath me might give way. The air grows heavier, pressing against my chest until I can barely draw a breath. Is he joking? This has to be some twisted game.