The mansion felt different in the soft
glow of twilight. The storm had passed, leaving a mist that clung to the grounds like an unspoken secret. Isabelle found herself in the study again, across from Julian, a fire crackling between them.
“You don’t have to keep searching” Julian said, his voice low. “Not for Max. Not for answers.”
Isabelle held his gaze. “That’s not who I am. And you’re not the type to give up either.”
Something flickered in his eyes-
something dangerous, something tempting. The air between them was
charged, thick with things left unsaid.
Later that night, Isabelle wandered
outside, drawn by something she couldn’t name. The old greenhouse loomed ahead, its windows fogged with condensation. As she stepped inside, her breath hitched-there, tangled in the vines, was a rusted leash.
A presence behind her.
She turned swiftly, but it was only Julian.
“You keep appearing out of nowhere,” she whispered, heart pounding.
“You keep going where you shouldn’t,” he replied. His voice was steady, but his fingers-his elegant, haunted fingers-brushed against hers as he took the leash from her grasp.
The touch lingered, just a second too
long. Isabelle swallowed hard.
“Julian,” she started, but he was already walking away, the leash dangling from his fingers like a ghost of the past.
That night, as she lay in bed, she could still feel the warmth of his touch.
