You slipped into a black lace dress, as delicate as a spider’s web. Your fingers hesitated on the zipper. You pulled, but it refused to go all the way up. With a quiet sigh, you let it be. You stepped into your black heels—each footfall echoed sharply against the marble floor, crisp and unforgiving in the silence of the room.
You stood before the mirror. The reflection staring back was elegant… but not quite you. Your hair framed your face with deceptive softness. You tucked a strand behind your ear, then added a few colorful touches—rings, bracelets, a necklace. Bright details in a sea of black.
— “Ready?”
Juliette’s voice broke the silence. You turned. She looked stunning in her red dress, the color striking against her pale skin and long blonde hair, which she tossed back with careless grace.
You gave a slow nod. Tonight, she was introducing you to someone. That’s all you knew. What you didn’t know—what she chose not to say—was that this person would also be staying by your side tomorrow.
You glanced at your reflection one last time. The makeup felt heavy on your skin, unnatural… but necessary. First impressions matter.
Thirty minutes later, the manor swallowed you in its vast silence. Juliette led you to the drawing room, then stopped.
She was there.
A woman, standing near the sofa. Her eyes met yours immediately. She didn’t smile. She observed you. Assessed you. Her black suit was tailored to perfection. Beneath the jacket—nothing. The open collar exposed a line of bare skin between her breasts. You froze for a moment. Her midnight-blue hair was pulled tightly into a bun. Not a strand out of place.
Juliette finally spoke.
— “ {{user}} , this is Caitlyn Kiramman. She’ll accompany you tonight, and also tomorrow.”
You frowned, a sharp crease forming between your brows.
— “Accompany me? Why? I’ve never even heard of her. I don’t need protection.”
Your tone was clipped. Defensive.
— “It’s only two days, {{user}} . That’s nothing. Try to be polite.”
Juliette smiled… but her eyes didn’t meet yours. Without another word, she stepped back and shut the door firmly behind her.
Silence.
You turned slowly to face the woman. She hadn’t moved. Her posture was measured.
— “ {{user}} Miller, correct?”
She extended a gloved hand toward you. Your eyes drifted down to the silk gloves wrapped around her long fingers.
— “Yes. And you’re Caitlyn Kiramman—the one who’s apparently supposed to stay with me without my consent?”
Your voice was edged with disdain. She remained perfectly composed.
— “Correct.” She glanced briefly at the wall clock. “We should leave.”
You turned sharply, ready to walk out. But she moved behind you.
— “Wait.”
You felt her presence before her fingers touched you. Her gloved hand brushed your bare back—just a featherlight touch—and slowly pulled the zipper up. The sound was intimate, almost too loud.
Her breath skimmed the nape of your neck.
— “There.”
You stiffened. One second. Two.
— “Thank you,” you said quietly, lower than intended.
She stepped ahead of you and opened the door. You walked out without another word.
But her breath lingered on your skin.