Half-asleep, Sophia Reed thought she heard the soft creak of a door opening.
A wave of unease crawled up her spine.
She blinked awake, eyes adjusting to the dim golden glow of the bedside lamp. There—standing in the middle of her room—was the teenage boy who had sneered at her the day before. His eyes were closed, his face blank, moving like some sort of automaton without a soul.
Sophia nearly screamed, but caught herself in time. Sleepwalking, she realized after a stunned second. She’d been through similar episodes before—back when her nerves were shredded by stress. People’s bodies had their own ways of purging emotion, she supposed.
Still, the sight of Ethan Kane wandering around her room in the middle of the night like a lost ghost made her heart pound.
Seriously, doesn’t anyone in the Kane Manor check on this kid? What if something happens?
Muttering under her breath, Sophia slipped out of bed and gently caught his wrist. Bit by bit, she coaxed him back to bed and tucked him in.
“Like father, like son,” she grumbled under her breath. “The older one’s a headache, the younger one’s a walking nightmare. I must’ve owed the Kanes something in my past life.”
The next morning, the storm over Manhattan hadn’t let up. Thunder still rolled distantly over the East River.
Sophia woke with a start—a cold, heavy sense of being watched prickled her skin.
When she opened her eyes, she nearly screamed again.
Ethan stood by her bed, hair tousled, face pale and grim.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she blurted.
“That’s my question!” the boy snapped back. “What are you doing in my bed? My dad told you to get out—why are you still here?”
Sophia yawned, snuggling back into her pillow.
“Sweetheart, open your eyes and look around. This is my room, my bed. And maybe—just maybe—you should be thanking the person who saved your life last night.”
She was still wearing last night’s sequin dress, now paired awkwardly with lounge pants she’d grabbed for warmth. The effect was… chaotic, to say the least.
“If it weren’t for me,” she added lazily, “you’d still be wandering the hallways half-dead in your sleep.”
Ethan’s face darkened. He looked like he wanted to bite someone. “You’re disgusting! Can’t seduce my dad, so now you’re trying me?”
Sophia found him adorable in his fury. “Your dad’s too old and cranky—an old man’s flavor just doesn’t appeal to me. But you? You’re fresh and tender. Way more tempting.”
“Gross!”
The boy bolted from the room, slamming the door behind him. Sophia collapsed into laughter—until she looked up and froze.
Alexander Kane was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Dark silk pajamas, tousled hair, eyes sharp as glass.
“Good morning, Mr. Kane,” she said weakly.
A long pause.
“Get dressed,” he said evenly. “Come to my study.”
Sophia’s legs were trembling as she approached the study. She was doomed, obviously. Last night she’d crawled into his son’s bed, and this morning she’d teased the boy within earshot. What else could he want except to fire her—or worse?
She stopped at a safe distance from the desk. The room was dim; the curtains were drawn. Alexander sat behind his desk, now wearing a loose cotton shirt instead of silk, collar slightly open to reveal the hard lines of his chest. A pair of rimless glasses framed his cool gaze.
He gestured for her to come closer.
“Mr. Kane,” she said carefully, forcing a smile. “I was just packing my things—”
“In such a hurry to leave? I thought you liked Ethan.”
He’d heard. Oh, he’d definitely heard.
“It was just a joke, Mr. Kane. The kid’s adorable, I was teasing him.”
“Oh? And the old man’s flavor?” His tone was mild, but every syllable was a blade.
Her face drained of color. “I—I shouldn’t have said that. My apologies, sir.”
“Come here.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried absolute authority.
Sophia hesitated, then slowly stepped forward.
Alexander’s long fingers tapped the desk, eyes glinting behind the lenses.
“Old man’s flavor?” he repeated, voice slow, dangerously amused.
“I was wrong,” she murmured immediately.
“Am I that old?”
His voice brushed against her ear—low, close, unsettling.
Sophia’s breath caught. Up close, his collarbone and chest were right there, tanned skin against white cotton. Old man, her ass.
“N-no, you’re not—”
Alexander chuckled softly, releasing her wrist.
“I don’t think you need to pack just yet,” he said. Then, calmly:
“Until Ethan’s sleepwalking is cured, you’re not leaving Kane Manor.”
Her heart jumped.
“The future heir of Kane Corporation,” he added coolly, “can’t afford to have a single stain on his reputation.”
Sophia understood immediately: he wanted to keep her silent. This wasn’t a request—it was an order.
As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her one last time.
“If you’re going to act like you’re fond of Ethan,” he murmured, “then act the part. Don’t half-ass it. Understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Kane.”
