"Following our recent evaluation, it has been determined that Nix Dean is not yet considered completely stable. However, at this ti, he is deed to be ntally sound." The words echoed in my mind as I read the report for what felt like the hundredth ti. My hands trembled, a knot of worry tightening in my chest as I dropped the report onto the table.
Then, I picked up the accompanying letter. "Run! It’s either you die at my hands or at the hands of the one you feel the safest with," it ominously warned. A chill ran down my spine, and I unconsciously let the letter slip from my fingers, my heart racing.
I couldn’t shake the sense of unease as I stood, suddenly aware of every creak in the house. Making my way towards my bedroom window, I scanned the darkness outside, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of the mysterious ssenger. But there was no one, just the quiet of the night.
How had they gotten in? Despite the tight security, my room was a sanctuary high above the ground. It seed impossible.
"No, it can’t be an insider," I muttered to myself, thinking of the fear that seed to grip everyone in Mr. Dean’s presence.
"Carla! Carla, co downstairs!" Xavier’s voice rang out, a note of urgency piercing through the air. My heart leaped into my throat, and I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I made my way down the stairs.
"Car... oh, there you are," Xavier said, relief evident in his voice as he pulled towards the couch. His smile was wide, but it did little to ease the tension that coiled within .
"Do you rember your painting at the art exhibition?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded slowly, unsure of where he was going with this.
"Sponsors from Paris have decided to take the owner of the painting under their care," he explained, still smiling. "They’ll sponsor the painter until they’ve earned their degree and offer them a full-ti position."
I blinked, the news sinking in slowly. "You still don’t get it?" Xavier teased, but before I could respond, Luna swept into the room, holding a large brown envelope.
"Baby, you’re going to Paris," she announced with a grin, tapping my cheek affectionately. It took a mont for the words to register, and when they did, ti seed to stand still around .
"Ahhh!" I scread, jumping to my feet as the realization hit like a ton of bricks.
"Yes, girl, you’re about to fly higher," Luna said, enveloping in a hug. But our celebration was short-lived as Mr. Dean entered the room, his expression dark and stormy.
"N..." Xavier began, but Mr. Dean raised a hand, silencing him as he made his way towards the stairs. A chill swept through the room, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding that settled over .
"He’s in a foul mood, soone ruined his car," Ken’s voice broke through my thoughts as he entered the room, a smile tugging at his lips. "I heard soone screaming, what’s going on?"
Luna rushed to tell him the news, but I found my gaze drawn back to the stairs, wondering what was happening behind the closed door of Mr. Dean’s room.
"Congratulations, Carla, I always knew you were smart," Ken said, pulling into a warm hug. But my mind was elsewhere, consud by worry for Mr. Dean.
As we sat down to dinner, my eyes kept flickering towards the stairs, waiting for Mr. Dean to make an appearance.
"He won’t co for dinner," Luna said, her voice distant as she focused on her plate. "He never does when he’s in a bad mood."
I nodded, my appetite forgotten as I pushed my food around my plate. The worry gnawed at , growing with each passing minute.
"Carla, could you please take a glass of milk to Nix when you’re done?" Ken asked, breaking the silence. "I would have sent one of the maids, but I doubt they’d be able to get past the door. But I think he’ll let you in."
I looked up at him, a question in my eyes.
"I an, he ntioned sothing about ice cream," Ken explained, a small smile playing on his lips. "If you were able to convince him to... I an, never mind if you don’t want to."
My cheeks burned at the ntion of ice cream, mories flooding back from our ti on the yacht. Without a word, I stood and hurried to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of milk before heading towards Mr. Dean’s room.
I knocked softly on the partially open door, but there was no response. With a growing sense of unease, I pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened room.
"Mr. Dean?" I called, my voice barely a whisper. Still, there was no response. I fumbled for the light switch, relief flooding through as the room was bathed in light.
And then I saw him, wrapped tightly in his blankets, shivering uncontrollably. "Mr. Dean," I said, louder this ti, reaching out to wake him.
But he didn’t stir, lost in a troubled sleep. My heart hamred in my chest as I placed the glass of milk on the bedside table, a sense of dread settling over .
"What happened to you?" I whispered, the worry and concern weighing heavily on as I watched him sleep, oblivious to the turmoil that surrounded him.
"Beloved!" His urgent whisper caressed my ear as he swiftly caught hold of my hand, pulling closer to him. I could feel the warmth of his body as he rested his head on my shoulder, a mixture of romance and worry hanging thick in the air around us.
"I’ll..." His voice trailed off, interrupted by a cough that wracked his body. "Just sit like this with , I’ll be fine," he managed to say, his words barely audible yet laced with a plea.
Worry flashed across my face as I glanced up at him, seeing the feverish flush on his cheeks. "Mr. Dean, I don’t think..." My protest was cut short as I turned to find him already unconscious, his body limp in my arms. A heavy sigh escaped , heart pounding with concern.
Not wanting his condition to escalate further, I gently laid him on the bed, the suspense of the mont hanging heavy in the air. With a sense of urgency, I rushed to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of cool water, thankful that no one else was downstairs to witness this scene.
As I nursed Mr. Dean back to consciousness, tenderly wiping his forehead, I couldn’t help but wonder what troubles plagued his mind. Tracing the contours of his jawline with my fingertips, a soft smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
Indeed, he was a man of exquisite beauty, a man any woman would go to great lengths to have. But as my grandmother always said, "99% of stories gossiped are lies, and only one percent is the truth."
"What is your truth, Nix Dean?" I whispered softly, my gaze locked on his face, searching for answers in the depths of his features.
"Could the rumors about you be true? Could those scandalous reports truly belong to you?" The questions hung in the air, unanswered, leaving torn between the romance that enveloped us, the worry for his well-being, and the suspense of the mysteries that surrounded him.
I cupped his hands in mine still wondering what to do about the doubt I had built up but ca to the conclusion to neither think nor worry about the rumors
If they we’re true then I doubt a man of principles like Mr Dean would go out of him way to break his principles.
I went back to wiping his forehead with the wet towel and unconsciously fell into slumber..
"Carla" I could hear soone faintly call but I felt too lazy to open my eyes
"Carla" they called again and I opened my eyes to find Mr Dean staring at but my eyes felt too heavy for to keep them open
"How are you feeling?" I managed to ask with my eyes closed not expecting an answer before drift away back to dream land.
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