CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
Chiara: WHAT DOES “TORTURE” MEAN???? WHY ARE YOU BEING VAGUE. I WANT DETAILS.
I tried to pull the phone closer to me. Riley didn’t let me.
His voice slid into the quiet between us. “Hand it over.”
I clutched the phone. “No. Riley—“
He didn’t snatch it. He didn’t force me.
He just looked at me.
Really looked.
And the pressure of that gaze alone unraveled every scrap of resistance I had.
My fingers loosened.
He took the phone from my hands with slow, deliberate confidence, like I had always meant to give it to him.
He turned slightly toward me, thigh brushing mine, shoulder warm against my shoulder. Too close. Too certain. Too much.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Answering them,” he said. “Properly.”
His thumbs moved over the screen.
Not rushed.
Not careless.
Precision. Selected words.
Like he was crafting the version of the truth he wanted them to have.
I froze, breath stuck high in my ribs.
He typed into the group chat.
‘Torture’ means he’s not the kind of guy I should be around.
My heart slammed.
“No—Riley, don’t—“
He held up one finger without looking at me.
Wait.
Then he continued typing.
But I can’t seem to stay away from him.
Heat shot through my chest. Anger, embarrassment, and something else I refused to name.
I reached for the phone.
He didn’t let me near it.
His voice dropped, almost amused. “You started this conversation with them, Luna. I’m just adding clarity.”
Before I could speak, he typed again.
He’s not just hot. He’s the kind of hot that gets under your skin.
My breath caught.
“Riley—“
He ignored me.
The kind you notice in a room even when you don’t want to. The kind that makes everything feel… complicated.
He stopped typing.
But he didn’t send it.
Not yet.
Instead, he turned the phone toward me, showing me the words stacked on the screen. His words in my voice.
His eyes slid to mine.
“Is any of that untrue?”
My pulse skittered, uneven.
“I didn’t say that,” I whispered.
“You didn’t have to.”
The SUV slowed as traffic thickened near Palo Alto. Sunlight spilled across his face, sharp on the cheekbone, softer near his mouth. He looked both unreal and too real at the same time.
He held my gaze while he sent the message.
Delivered.
I inhaled sharply.
“Why did you write that?”
“Because,” he said, leaning closer, his tone low enough that the driver couldn’t possibly hear, “they wanted details.”
His fingers brushed the back of my hand, barely a touch, but it set every nerve alight.
“And you wouldn’t give them any.”
My heart pounded.
“Now you can’t just take them back,” he added softly.
My stomach twisted.
Before I could respond, the phone buzzed violently in his hand.
More messages from the girls.
And…
A different buzz.
A different notification.
The unknown number.
Riley saw the second banner flash across the screen.
His expression changed.
Subtle.
Cold.
Sharp.
He turned toward me fully this time, his knee pressing against mine, his body angling in.
“Luna,” he said quietly.
“Who,” his eyes dropped to the screen and back to mine, “is texting you now?”
Panic spiked through me, sharp, electric, instinctive.
I lunged for the phone.
Too fast.
Too thoughtless.
My fingers collided with his.
Then slid past.
And landed on his thigh.
Not low.
Not safe.
High.
Too high.
The heat of him burned through denim, straight into my palm.
Time fractured.
For a second, maybe two, neither of us breathed.
Riley didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t even pretend the touch meant nothing.
His gaze dropped to where my hand rested, small, tense, shaking, against the inside of his leg.
Then he looked at me.
Slowly.
Darkly.
Like I had just given him a gift wrapped in silk and stupidity.
“Luna,” he said softly, “if you wanted to touch me, you could’ve asked.”
Blood detonated beneath my skin.
“I—I wasn’t—“
His palm closed over my wrist.
Not harsh.
Not cruel.
Just decisive.
“For future reference,” he murmured, “that spot is… very persuasive.”
My breath hitched.
He didn’t let go.
He lifted my hand with obscene patience, inch by inch, until it lingered perilously close to the part of him no girl should touch unless he allowed it. And he was allowing far too much.
“Is this where you wanted to touch me?” he asked, voice velvet and smoke, as my fingers hovered so close to him that I could feel the heat radiating through the fabric. “Or was that your way of keeping me from your little secret?”
I swallowed so hard it hurt.
He smirked.
“There it is,” he whispered. “The truth.”
He finally released my hand.
I snatched my hand back just in time, fingers trembling at the edge of something I shouldn’t have been anywhere near.
Then he held my phone just out of reach, his other hand resting on his knee like he was considering letting me try again.
“Cute move,” he said. “But next time you try to distract me—“ his eyes dropped to my mouth, lingering, “you’ll have to commit.”
Heat shot through me, humiliating and sharp.
“I wasn’t trying to distract you,” I lied.
His laugh was low.
Dangerous.
“Princess,” he said, leaning in until his breath brushed my cheek, “you were willing to grab my thigh to stop me from seeing a single message. If that’s not distraction, then you’re flirting with me.”
My pulse convulsed.
“No,” I breathed.
“Yes,” he corrected, softly. “And you’re terrible at it.”
My heart hammered painfully.
His thumb brushed the edge of my phone.
“I’ll let you keep this secret,” he continued. “For now.”
Relief cracked through me, too visible.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
His smile sharpened.
“You should stop making it so obvious when you’re scared,” he murmured. “It makes me curious.”
Then, finally, he placed my phone back in my palm.
Warm from his touch.
Heavy with what almost happened.
“Be good,” he added quietly. “Or I’ll make you unlock it for me.”
The SUV slowed as it turned toward the long private drive.
He watched me all the way down the road.
Like he knew the unknown message was already burning a hole through my skin.
Like he knew I’d have to check it soon.
Like he knew exactly how far he could push me next.
And I had no idea how far I’d let him.
The driveway curved through a canopy of old oaks and redwoods, their branches knitting together overhead like a cage made by nature itself.
My breath caught.
I’d seen big houses.
Not this.
Not something that felt like it was studying me back.
The first glimpse of the mansion hit me like cold water.
Glass. Stone. Clean, brutal lines. A structure carved into the hillside, all sharp edges and impossible wealth. The kind of place that didn’t try to impress you.
It didn’t need to.
The house simply existed with the confidence of something that knew you’d never forget it.
A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the valley, reflecting the sky in fractured pieces. The second level jutted out over the first, supported by beams that looked too elegant to be that strong. Somewhere behind the glass, faint warm lighting glowed, gold against the cool gray stone.
And there, at the top of the steps leading to the entrance, a set of double doors towered like the entrance to a museum… or a prison.
My chest tightened.
This wasn’t a home.
This was a world.
Riley’s world.
Mine now, apparently.
“Breathe,” Riley murmured beside me.
I hadn’t realized I’d stopped.
“It’s just a house,” he added.
But there was something in his voice. Amusement, maybe, or something darker, that told me he liked my reaction.
Liked that the place overwhelmed me.
Liked that I didn’t quite know how to exist here yet.
The SUV rolled to a smooth stop near the front steps.
A single man in a black suit waited by the entrance. No smile. No wave. Just a quiet nod when he saw Riley.
Of course Riley Maddox had private staff standing outside his house waiting for him like a soldier reporting for duty.
I swallowed hard.
The house loomed higher when I stepped out of the car, its presence pressing against my skin like cold fingers.
My suitcase felt too small in my hand.
I felt too small.
And still, beneath all the awe and intimidation, something else curled low in my stomach.
Curiosity.
Fear.
A strange, unwelcome anticipation.
Because even from here, even from the front steps, the mansion felt like him, controlled, impossible to read, and hiding something dangerous behind all that glass.
Riley came around the car, reached past me, and picked up my suitcase like it weighed nothing.
“Welcome home, princess,” he said.
And the way he said it made the air around us tighten, like whatever waited for me behind those doors wasn’t something I could run from.
Not anymore.
The man in the black suit stepped forward to take the suitcases from Riley.
“Welcome home, Mr. Maddox,” he said with a respectful dip of his head. Then his gaze slid to me. “Miss Carter, if you’d like, I can show you the—“
“No.” Riley’s voice cut clean through the air.
Not loud.
Not sharp.
Just… final.
The kind of tone that didn’t need volume to enforce obedience.
The staff member froze mid-sentence. His spine straightened a fraction.
“I’ll take her,” Riley said. “You can go.”
The man hesitated for less than a breath, barely visible, but enough for me to notice, and then nodded quickly. “Of course, sir.”
“And,” Riley added, already turning toward the doors, “tell the household that my father and stepmother won’t be returning tonight.”
A flicker of surprise crossed the man’s face. “Understood.”
He disappeared through a side entrance, almost relieved to be dismissed.
My pulse drummed as the double doors opened in front of us with a soft hydraulic hiss, revealing the first glimpse of the Maddox estate’s interior.
Riley stepped ahead, his shoulder brushing mine as he passed. “Come on,” he said, not looking back. “You need to know where everything is.”
I followed because my legs didn’t seem to know any other option.
The moment I stepped inside, my breath caught.