They were curious.
Curiosity was worse. It meant she was paying attention.
And for some reason, that unsettled me more than her silence ever did.
I looked back at the road. Focused on the lines. The motion. Anything but her.
Because if I let myself stare back, I wasn’t sure what I’d do next.
And I needed to be sure.
Always.
I pulled up to the house.
Sleek. Modern. Black glass and matte steel nestled in the trees like a secret no one was supposed to find. It wasn’t built to impress. It was built to disappear. Quiet. Private. Efficient.
Like me.
Mina stared.
Her eyes swept over the façade, catching on the hard edges and cold angles. She didn’t say anything at first. Just stared like the house might explain something about me that I hadn’t said out loud.
Eventually, she asked, “This it?”
I didn’t look at her when I answered. “Temporary quarters.” Then I added, “Prison or palace. Depends on your mood.”
Dry. Flat. Truth with a smile’s edge.
She rolled her eyes. Sharp. Tired. Still defiant.
Good. She wasn’t broken.
“Very funny,” she muttered, arms crossing over her chest like armor. “Does this place come with a guard dog or just overpriced furniture?”
I smirked. Couldn’t help it. The bite in her voice was sharper than any chirp I’d heard on the ice this season. “Only if you behave.”
Her eyebrows lifted, mouth twisting into something dangerously close to a smirk of her own. “Behave? You think that earns me choices in here?”
I tilted my head, watching her. The air between us wasn’t just tense—it was alive. Something thrummed just under the surface, an unspoken dare.
“I treat royalty well,” I said. Then leaned against the car door, folding my arms. “Come in. Or don’t.”
A beat.
Then she stepped out of the car.
Her boots hit the gravel with purpose. Not hesitation.
She didn’t look at me, just moved toward the door like she owned her decision—even if it burned.
I followed, hands in my coat pockets, gaze fixed on her back.
“Why not get something cozy?” she asked, voice light but laced with skepticism. “Like a cabin. Something with soul.”
“Cozy doesn’t win championships.”
The answer came too easily. Too automatic.
