Nineteen Lilies.
The garden had become mine. Or at least it felt that way, as if the roses and damp soil had claimed me in return.
The house was heavy, all stone and silence, but out here it loosened its grip.
I leaned against the trunk of an old tree, the bark rough through the thin fabric of my dress, and let myself breathe.
The air smelled of earth and rain, of roses bending under the weight of last night's storm.
I thought about his words more than I wanted to admit.
Friends. The sound of them was still warm inside me, soft as if they could mean something more.
He hadn't said much since then, not to me directly.
Logan kept his distance-I hardly saw him at all-and Adrian.
.. Adrian was everywhere without being near.
I felt him even when I couldn't see him, locked away in his office or moving through the house like a shadow of his own.
And still I hoped. Foolishly, maybe. But hope was hard to kill once it had taken root.
I sat curled at the base of the tree, knees pulled close, fingers pulling at blades of wet grass until they snapped between my hands. The sun was warm on my skin, lulling me into something close to calm. Then the light shifted. A shadow fell across my lap, long and unmistakable.
I didn't need to look up to know it was him.
His voice came from behind me, low and steady, almost catching me off guard. "When were you ever going to show me this, Lily? Didn't you say you would?"
I startled, heat rushing up my face before I even turned to him.
Adrian stood there with his hands tucked into his pant pockets, broad shoulders framed by the sunlight filtering through the branches above me.
He didn't move closer, but he didn't step back either.
We were already too close-close enough that my heart fluttered wildly against my ribs.
I scrambled to my feet, brushing the dirt from my skirt with shaky hands. "I-" I laughed, soft and nervous, a sound that broke in the middle. "I could... I could show you now, if you'd like?"
For a moment he only looked at me, his eyes unreadable, sharp as always. Then he gave a single nod, saying nothing, and the silence between us seemed to hum.
I stepped past him, my pulse loud in my ears, and led him along the narrow stone path I'd carefully swept the day before.
My words tumbled out, rushed and eager to fill the space, to show him everything I'd come to love here.
"These ones are tulips... and those are peonies-they've just started to open.
And over there, the roses-Mary says they're temperamental, but if you trim them the right way they behave. "
He followed silently, the sound of his footsteps steady and deliberate behind me. I stopped at the far edge of the garden, where the ground dipped slightly and sunlight caught on a cluster of soft blooms. Lilies.
Adrian crouched slightly, his large hand brushing over one of the petals with surprising care. His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Hm. Lilies."
My lips parted in a smile I couldn't hold back. I bent down beside him, my fingers almost grazing the same flower. "They've always been my favorite," I admitted in a rush, my chest lifting with excitement. "The pink and yellow ones especially. I don't know why, but they make me feel... lighter."
He straightened slowly, dropping his hand to his side, and when his eyes met mine his expression was unreadable but softer somehow. "They're mine as well."
I blinked at him, caught off guard, my smile tugging wider. "Really? I never would have guessed that." The words slipped out before I could think better of them, laced with quiet wonder.
His answer is low, almost dismissive, but it lingers in the air between us. Then his gaze shifts, traveling beyond the patch of lilies.
"Have you seen the rest of the backyard?" he asks.
I blink up at him, shaking my head before I can stop myself. "N-no... I wasn't sure if I was... allowed to."
He doesn't answer right away. His silence stretches, heavy enough to make me fidget with the hem of my dress. Then, finally, he says, "You live here. You're allowed to." A pause. "I'll show you."
I nod, not trusting my voice, and fall into step beside him.
It feels strange, walking with him like this-our strides so different, his legs carrying him effortlessly while I try to keep up.
I notice everything about him, as if my eyes can't help themselves: the breadth of his shoulders beneath his white shirt, the way the fabric strains around his arms when they shift in his pockets, the way his presence dwarfs mine without him even trying.
The path bends, and when we turn the corner, my breath catches. A pool spreads out before us, glassy and blue, the sunlight scattering diamonds across the rippling surface. I've never seen anything like it. My feet carry me forward before I think better of it, drawn like a moth to flame.
I step carefully to the edge, peering into the water. It looks impossibly deep, endless. My reflection wavers in the light. I've never been swimming-not once. The House never let me, never gave me the chance.
"Would you like to swim?"
His voice breaks into my thoughts, smooth and sudden, startling me even though I knew he was standing there. I spin around to look at him too quickly, my heel slipping on the smooth stone edge.
A sharp shriek rips out of me as my body tilts backward, gravity pulling me toward the water-but before the fall can claim me, strong arms close around my waist.
I gasp as I'm yanked forward, colliding with the solid wall of his chest. His grip is firm, unyielding, his heat searing through the thin fabric of my dress. My palms press against him instinctively, feeling the hard muscle beneath the shirt, the steady rise and fall of his breath.
We're too close. Too close.
But he doesn't let go.
Heat rushed to my face, a blush climbing up my neck. My lips parted, but no words came. I didn't know if I should thank him, apologize, or beg him to let go. Every inch of me was aware of his hold, of the way his fingers curled slightly, possessive without meaning to be.
He didn't move right away either. He just looked down at me, his jaw tight, unreadable. And in that silence, I felt small and trembling beneath the weight of him, but also something else-something warm that scared me even more than falling into the pool ever could.
Adrian's mouth curved, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "You're quite clumsy," he murmured, his voice low, almost amused.
His hands didn't drop me right away. Instead, they guided me a step back from the pool's edge, firm but unhurried, tugging me away from danger as if I were some fragile thing that might slip again.
When his grip finally loosened, it wasn't clean-his fingers lingered a second too long against my waist, brushing away with deliberate slowness.
It made my breath catch, made my heart stumble inside my chest like it didn't know how to beat right anymore.
"I-I'm sorry," I whispered quickly, heat crawling up my neck. My gaze darted to the water shimmering behind me, sunlight scattering across its surface. "I've never been swimming before. But I've... always wanted to."
Adrian's brow arched, sharp and questioning, as though he couldn't quite believe me. "You've never learned?"
The words felt heavier than they should have, pressing at my chest. My throat tightened, and I stumbled through the truth. "I just... I never had the chance."
He hummed, the sound thoughtful but edged with something that unsettled me. "Hm. Now that just won't do."
I blinked, uncertain, my hands twisting together at my waist. "What do you mean?"
"You'll have to learn," he said simply, as if it were already decided.
My heart skipped again, but not in the same way.
I shook my head quickly, my voice softer than before.
"That's okay. It's really not a big deal.
" My eyes flicked toward the water again, its surface glassy and bright, but all I could see was the memory that lived beneath it-the suffocating weight of hands holding me down, the burn in my chest as water flooded into my lungs, the soundless screaming inside my head.
I swallowed hard, fighting it back, dragging myself out of the memory just as his voice cut through it.
"Do you not like the water?"
The question froze me. My gaze snapped back to his, steady and searching, too sharp for comfort. I hesitated, words trapped on my tongue. If I told him, if I gave him that truth, would he use it against me? Would he find a way to twist it, to press on it, the way men always had before?
I couldn't tell. But his eyes didn't move from mine, waiting, daring me to answer.
"I had... an incident, when I was younger," I say at last, my voice thin. "It makes me a little nervous, that's all."
His gaze doesn't soften, but it shifts, like he's weighing my words. Then, after a long pause, he leans just slightly closer. "But do you want to learn how to swim?" His emphasis is deliberate, pressing the question into me. You.
Something loosens in my chest, a breath escaping as if I've been holding it for hours. I search his eyes, the weight of his stare steady against mine, and slowly-almost fearfully-I nod. "Yeah," I whisper. "I do."
“I’ll teach you,” Adrian said after a beat, his tone firm, unyielding, as though the matter had already been decided long before I’d even asked.
His gaze moved over me briefly, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “But not now. We’ve got something planned tonight.”
The words lingered in the air between us.
I blinked, my brow pulling slightly as confusion settled in my chest. Something planned?
“Something… here?” I asked cautiously, my voice softer than I meant it to be. The question felt misplaced the second it left my mouth, like I had reached too far into something that wasn’t mine to ask about. “What are you doing?”
My lips pressed together immediately after. Too much. Too many questions.
I could feel it before I even looked up.
That shift in him.
That sharp flicker in his eyes—the kind that made my stomach twist because I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, only that I must have.
His mouth curved slightly, but it wasn’t kind. Not quite a smile. Something more controlled. Something that made my chest tighten.
“You mean,” he said slowly, his voice lower now, deliberate, “what are we doing.”
The word landed heavier than it should have.
We.
My breath caught, just slightly. “Us?” I repeated, quieter this time, the word almost slipping as it left me.
He nodded once. Decisive. Like there was no other option.
“We’re having people over,” he said. “A small thing.”
People.
My fingers curled into themselves, nails pressing lightly into my skin. I tried to keep my face still, tried to keep the reaction from showing too much, but my heart had already started beating faster, louder, like it was trying to warn me.
“What… what’s it for?” I asked, more carefully now.
He paused this time. Not long—but long enough that I noticed.
“My brother,” he said finally. “It was his birthday yesterday.”
Brother.
The word echoed in my head in a way I didn’t expect. Something unfamiliar and distant, like a life I’d never been part of.
“He’s coming tonight,” Adrian continued, his tone even. “Him, his fiancée. A few friends. Nothing excessive.”
Nothing excessive.
But it didn’t feel small to me.
It felt like something I didn’t understand how to fit into.
His family.
His people.
His world.
I shifted slightly where I stood, my hands finding each other in front of me, fingers twisting together as I tried to think.
What was I supposed to do?
Where was I supposed to be?
The questions came quickly, stacking over each other until one slipped out before I could stop it.
“Well… I could stay in my room,” I said, the words rushing just a little. I forced a small smile, hoping it would soften it. “I’ll be quiet. I won’t bother anyone.”
I glanced up at him, then quickly back down again.
“It’ll be like I’m not here.”
The silence that followed felt… wrong.
Not empty—just heavy.
When I finally looked back at him, his expression had changed. Not angry. Not exactly.
But focused.
Like he didn’t like what I’d just said.
“You’ll be downstairs,” he said.
I blinked.
“With me.”
The words settled into me slowly, like they needed time to make sense.
“Oh,” I breathed.
Something in my chest shifted, uncertain, fragile. “Okay,” I added quickly, nodding once.
My fingers twisted together again, but gentler this time.
“When are they coming?” I asked, quieter now, but I kept my eyes on him. It made my cheeks warm, holding his gaze like that, but I didn’t look away.
“Six.”
I followed the movement as he checked the time.
“It’s twelve now,” he added. “You’ve got a few hours.”
A few hours.
My mind immediately started filling the space—what to do, how to act, what not to say, how to stand, how to—
“Do you want me to cook?”
The question slipped out before I could think it through.
I froze slightly after saying it, unsure if I should’ve.
“I mean—I can make dinner,” I added quickly, my voice picking up pace as I tried to explain it properly. “For everyone. If you want. I just thought maybe I could help and—”
“Lily.”
I stopped immediately.
My eyes lifted to his.
“Do you want to cook?”
The way he said it slowed everything down.
Not rushed. Not impatient.
Clear.
Simple.
Do you want to.
My mouth parted slightly, but no answer came right away.
Because I didn’t know how to answer that kind of question.
Want.
It wasn’t something I was used to being asked.
At The House, cooking wasn’t something you chose. It was something you did because you were told to. Because if you didn’t—
My stomach tightened.
I forced the thought away.
This wasn’t that.
No one was watching me like that here. No one was waiting for me to fail.
And still… a part of me hesitated.
Because wanting something meant it could be taken away.
But I did want to.
Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to do something right. Something good. Something that might make this… easier. Better.
For him.
For them.
For me.
I looked back at him, my voice quieter now, but steadier.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
He watched me for a second, like he was making sure I meant it.
Then he nodded once.
“Then you can.”
That was it.
No conditions. No correction. No expectation layered underneath.
Just… permission.
Something in my chest loosened, just slightly.
I let out a small breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my fingers finally stilling in front of me.
Six hours.
Dinner.
People.
His brother.
And me… downstairs.
With him.
The thought settled softly, but it didn’t feel as frightening as it had a few minutes ago.
Not completely.
Just enough to make my heart beat a little differently.
The thought settles in my chest for only a moment before something else slips in—practical, quiet, but important.
“I’ll need groceries,” I say, a little softer now, almost hesitant to add more. My fingers twist together again as I glance up at him. “For dinner, I mean.”
He doesn’t interrupt, so I keep going.
“Could… someone take me?” I ask carefully. “Maybe one of the security guards?”
I pause, then something lighter slips into my tone before I can stop it.
“Oh—Mason!” I add, a small smile tugging at my lips. “He likes my baking. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Or Logan—I could ask him—”
I stop.
Adrian’s arms have crossed over his chest.
The shift is immediate. Heavy.
My voice slows, faltering. “Or… someone else,” I finish quietly.
His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to make my stomach twist.
“Mason,” he repeats.
The way he says it makes it sound different. Like I’ve said something I shouldn’t have.
“First name basis with one of my men?”
Heat rushes to my face instantly. I let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to smooth it over.
“Well—yes—I mean, no—not like that,” I stumble quickly. “I just… I try to talk to them sometimes and he’s really the only one who actually says anything back…”
My words trail off as I watch his face.
It’s hard.
Unreadable in a way that makes my chest tighten.
Is he mad?
The thought hits fast—sharp and panicked.
“Oh—please don’t be mad,” I rush out, stepping forward slightly without thinking. “Or—or get him in trouble—I didn’t mean—don’t be mad at him, I mean.”
My hands lift slightly, unsure where to go, hovering between us.
“I talk to all of them,” I admit quickly, my voice softening. “When I get lonely. Or bored. I probably annoy them, so it’s not his fault, really. Don’t… fire him or anything.”
The words come out too fast, tripping over each other, and I can hear it—but I can’t stop.
For a second, he just looks at me.
And then—
A smirk pulls at his mouth.
Slow. Dangerous.
“You don’t want me to get him in trouble?” he repeats, his tone almost thoughtful now—but there’s something underneath it. Something that makes my breath catch.
“Fire him, Lily?”
The way he says my name makes my stomach drop.
“You know what I do with men who go against my rules?”
My lips press together, confusion flickering through me. I don’t answer—I don’t know how to.
He steps closer.
Too close.
My breath stutters as he leans down slightly, his voice lowering until it feels like it belongs only to me.
“I kill them.”
The words are quiet.
Flat.
Certain.
Not a threat. Not a joke.
A fact.
My breath leaves me in a small gasp, my eyes widening as I stare up at him.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.
“Don’t… do that,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Please.”
His head tilts again, just slightly.
“Mm,” he hums. “Telling me what to do, Lily?”
My heart jumps.
“Oh—no!” I shake my head quickly, panic rising. “No, not at all—I didn’t mean—I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Adrian, I just—”
My voice softens, falters.
“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
For a second, there’s nothing.
Then he chuckles.
Low. Deep.
The tension breaks just enough that I can breathe again as he straightens, stepping back, giving me space.
“For now,” he says casually, like we’re talking about something simple, “I’ll listen.”
A pause.
“But I won’t make any promises.”
I nod quickly. “Okay,” I breathe.
The wind shifts suddenly, brushing through the garden. My skirt lifts slightly around my legs, the soft fabric catching the air. I wrap my arms around myself instinctively, fingers finding the seam of my shirt, grounding myself.
My heart is still beating too fast.
But then—
“I’ll take you.”
I blink.
“What?”
“To the store,” he clarifies.
Something warm sparks in my chest, surprising and immediate.
“Really?” I ask, unable to stop the small smile that forms.
He nods once. “If you can be ready in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes.
I nod quickly, the smile growing without permission. “Okay. I just need to clean up a bit and I’ll be ready.”
I turn slightly, already thinking through everything I need to do—but the feeling stays.
That small, bright warmth.
Because I get to go with him.
It’s such a simple thing.
But it settles somewhere deep in my chest, lighting it softly.
I’ve spent time with him before.
But this—
This feels different.
And as I move to leave, I can’t help the quiet, fluttering thought that follows me, I get a little more time with him.
And for some reason—
that matters more than it should.