Isabelle

I lean closer to the air vent that connects the hall to the office in the back of the store. I'm supposed to be doing inventory, but I'm worried about my dad. He's been weird since he returned home. At first, I thought it was because he didn't get my invention to the convention after his accident, even though I told him I understood.

Then a letter arrived, and he went pale the second he opened it. Right after that, he locked himself in his office, and not long after, Garrison stormed into the store. When I tried asking what was going on, he brushed me off with his usual patronizing shit about it "not being a matter for a woman to concern herself with."

Fuck, I hate him.

So, here I am, resorting to tactics I used when I was a kid.

"Holy shit, Richard," Garrison's gritty, disgusting voice echoes through the vent. "He's charging you $500,000 for services acquired and damages rendered."

"That has to be a mistake, right?" my dad's voice sounds feeble and broken—something I've never heard before. Not even after my mom passed away.

"It says you destroyed some old family tree on his private property and damaged some special... rose bush? That can't be right," Garrison says.

Rose bush? Oh no.

"It is," my dad says, his voice trembling. "The man went berserk when he saw the flower in my hand. He was like a wild animal. I didn't mean to—what are we going to do?" My dad asks, his voice faltering with every word. "I didn't think he was really insane."

"This Adam Marsters guy's threatening to throw you in jail over a flower. So yeah, he is," Garrison replies. "Honestly, most of the charges are for the damage to the damn roses."

"I get that, but what can we do?"

"You can sell the shop," Garrison suggests.

"It's not worth a fraction of what he's asking for," my dad replies, his voice growing more fragile with every word.

"Let me finish," Garrison snaps, the annoyance clear in his voice. "Sell the shop, then ask the judge for a lighter sentence. A few months at most."

Tears well in my eyes as I pull the dried rose from my hair, staring at it.

It's just a stupid rose. What makes it so special? It can't really be that special, can it?

Great questions for the man who's threatening your dad—but does that even matter?

No.

All that matters is this is my fault. I'm the reason my dad was even looking for that damn flower in the first place. It's all I asked for—all I ever asked for since I was six. And now he could be going to jail over the stupid thing.

I stand up from the vent, wiping tears from my cheeks. No way am I letting my dad go to jail for trying to make me happy.

I march into the shop, determined to fix my mess. I grab my mom's novel off the counter—hoping her spirit will aid me in my endeavor—and shove it into my trusty inventor's bag that I never have far from my side and leave. I don't have a plan or any idea what I'm going to do, but I have a name.

Adam Marsters is going to rue the day he forced me to enter his life.

***

My eyes bulge as I round the bend and spot a fortress tucked between the trees that someone's trying to pass off as a house. It was surprisingly easy to find after asking around for the "secluded home in the woods." After seeing it, I'm pretty sure I would've stumbled upon it on my own.

For fucks sake.

I can't help but gawk at the beautifully carved statues lining the path to the entrance. Someone actually lives here. Someone calls this home.

I most definitely screwed over the wrong god in a past life.

Like the colorful leaves clinging to the limbs of their trees as vehement winds threaten to tear them from the only homes they've ever known, my finger hovers petrified over the doorbell, frightened of the approaching squall threatening to tear me from my dad. The locals, while kind, didn't help ease my anxiety about talking to the ghastly man I overheard my dad mention. I exhale slowly as I build up the courage to press the button. I feel oddly proud of my small feat of bravery despite jumping, startled by the bell's boisterous dongs.

The door creaks open, and I relax slightly when a gentle-looking woman with a wide grin greets me.

"Hello," she says, her thick British accent putting me more at ease. "What can I do for you, dear?"

"Hello, uh, yes, um... Is there an Adam Marsters here?" I stammer.

"Mr. Marsters, yes," she says, stepping aside. "Come on in, let's get you out of this bone-chilling weather."

I step inside and follow her to a room that, for most people, would be the size of their entire home. But for this man, it's just the living room. My jaw drops as I take in the grandeur of the room, like a savage discovering a light switch for the first time. The woman guides me to an armchair beside a warm fire.

"There. Nice and toasty. Let me go to fetch Mr. Marsters," she chirps, humming softly as she walks away.

It feels like I'm alone for hours, which I don't mind because it allows me to prepare my plea to save my dad.

"I understand you wish to speak to me," a deep voice effortlessly fills the room. I'm so engrossed by my thoughts that I jerk back in my seat when I hear it.

"Adam Marsters?" I ask, watching as he strides further into the room.

"Yes," he replies.

My breath shallows when I notice he's only wearing a towel, slung low around his hips. I try to focus on his face, but it's hidden in shadows while his abs—and oh, are they abs—glisten in the firelight.

"If this is a bad time, I can come back," I manage, swallowing the saliva that's suddenly pooling in my mouth.

"I was just taking a swim, and you've already interrupted that, so now is fine," he says, his voice sharp but somehow still alluring. "Miss?"

"Shepherd. Isabelle Shepherd," I reply, lifting my chin slightly toward the shadowed figure.

"Shepherd?... Ah, I see," he says. I can't see his expression, but I can hear the wicked grin filling his smug face. "You must be that small shop proprietor's daughter."

"Yes. I came to talk about... the charges you brought a-against him. There's no... way we could afford wh-what you're asking for," I manage to stammer out.

He probably thinks I'm a bumbling idiot, but he has to know he's the one at fault here.

How the hell am I supposed to think straight with his abs and that damn towel teasing me?

I squeeze my thighs together, feeling the dampness start to build between my legs.

"Then your father shouldn't have trespassed on my land and destroyed my property." Although I can't make out his facial features, I can sense the smirk spreading as he relishes watching me struggle for each word.

"There has to... be something we can do...." I stumble, flustered. "Maybe you want to get dressed, and then we can finish our conversation."

"Miss Shepherd, you've come into my fucking home, interrupted my fucking day, and now you're trying to tell me what to fucking do?" he snaps, his voice cutting through the room, sharper than before. His harsh tone sends a tingle straight through my body, settling squarely on my clit.

What the hell is wrong with you?

I'd love to tell you, if I knew.

I shut my eyes and bite my lip, racking my brain, trying to remember how words work.

"There's no reason to speak to me like—"

"Enough! Let me make myself clear, Miss Shepherd. This is my house—my kingdom," he says, stepping closer, his presence making my body begin to overheat from his closeness. "And, in my kingdom, I do and say whatever I want."

I instinctively back away as he continues advancing, stopping only when I bump into the fireplace poker. He keeps moving forward until I can finally make out his face in the glow of the flames. It's hardened. Deep creases etched into his skin, displaying an existence deprived of every emotion aside from sorrow and anger. He turns his head, giving me a full view of both sides. A sharp gasp escapes my lips when I see it.

Author's Note:

Wow, things are really starting to heat up now! 🔥 Thank you so much for reading this chapter. Isabelle's determination is taking her places she never imagined—and the stakes just keep climbing. What did you think of her confrontation and the tension building with Adam? I'd love to hear your thoughts! Drop a comment to share your reactions, theories, or any questions you have. And if you're enjoying this wild ride, a vote would mean the world! Your feedback and support make this story even better, and I'm excited to hear what you think!