Linus parted ways with Mara, his mind already whirring with plans, making his way back through the corridors of the manor. But then he heard a distant hum of melody pulling him from his swirling thoughts.

It wasn’t loud, just a soft, lilting tune that seeped through the quiet corridors of the manor like a whispered secret. He followed the sound instinctively, his boots quiet on the polished stone floor. It led him to a door slightly ajar, light flickering faintly from within.

He stopped at the threshold and peered in. There she was.

Isabel stood near a high shelf, her back to him, reaching upward. Her lithe form arched with effort, toes barely grazing the ground as she strained to grasp something just out of reach. Her simple linen tunic, plain and practical, had betrayed her movements, slipping upward to expose a sliver of skin just above the waistband of her divided skirt. The soft, golden glow of candlelight fell across her, gilding the exposed curve of her waist and the smooth expanse of her midriff.

Linus froze, leaning against the doorframe as if tethered to the spot. His breath caught and held, a sharp intake that refused to release. Time seemed to slow as his gaze traced the olive-toned skin revealed with every stretch. She was unguarded, unaware of his presence, her humming unbroken as her fingers reached and flexed toward the shelf.

The rhythmic motion of her reaching—graceful, fluid—drew his eyes lower, then back up. The simple act of her body shifting and stretching was hypnotic, each line and curve framed perfectly in the flickering candlelight. Desire surged through him, hot and insistent, pooling in his chest and making his pulse quicken.

Her melody, the warm glow of the room, the soft rise and fall of her body—it all felt intimate, stolen. Linus swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came. He couldn’t look away, the moment too fragile to disturb. She was a vision, unselfconscious and utterly captivating, and he was caught in her orbit, helpless to break free.

Her hum was soft, almost like a lullaby, and it carried through the stillness of the room. Her body swayed gently with the melody, a natural rhythm to her movements that made her seem almost ethereal.

She stretched again, her tunic shifting further, revealing more of the smooth, unbroken expanse of her midriff. Linus’s breath hitched as his gaze followed the curve of her waist, trailing down to where the skirt rested low on her hips. The fabric, soft and worn, clung to her form, accentuating the subtle contours of her figure.

Something primal stirred within him then—a raw, unspoken desire that demanded action. For a fleeting moment, he imagined stepping forward, closing the space between them. His hands would find her waist, his fingers brushing the warm skin he had been silently admiring. He could almost feel the softness of her flesh beneath his touch.

But Linus held back. The forbidden thrill of simply watching her, of witnessing this unguarded beauty, was intoxicating in its own right. Each motion she made, no matter how small, carried a quiet sensuality that seemed almost deliberate, though he knew it was not. She was simply... Isabel.

Finally, her arm lowered, her task complete, and Linus felt the delicate spell of the moment beginning to unravel. He knew he could not remain there, silent and hidden, for much longer. So, he straightened up and gently knocked on the doorframe.

"Master Linus," Isabel exclaimed softly, spinning around. Her cheeks flushed the instant her gaze met his, her surprise mingling with warmth as she quickly smoothed down her tunic. The candor in her expression—open, unguarded—struck him. She was flustered, her voice a gentle lilt of recognition. “I didn’t see you there.”

Linus allowed himself a small smile. “I apologize for startling you,” he said. “I didn’t intend to intrude.”

Isabel’s blush deepened, the warm hue spreading across her cheeks like a sunrise, as she offered a slight nod. The candlelight caught the soft gleam of her eyes as she briefly glanced down, clearly flustered, before mustering the courage to meet Linus’s gaze again.

Linus stepped into the room, his movements unhurried, measured. A faint, amused smile played at his lips, though his eyes betrayed a sharper edge, one that lingered on her for a beat too long. “You seemed very focused,” he said smoothly, his gaze dipping briefly to the curve of her midriff before rising to meet her eyes again. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

The words, innocuous enough, carried a subtle weight, and Isabel’s hands instinctively moved to her tunic, pulling it down to cover the skin he had been admiring. “I was just organizing some old books,” she stammered, her voice light but tinged with nervous energy. Her fingers fidgeted with the fabric, her every movement betraying a quiet self-consciousness.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Linus’s smile grew just a fraction, his tone warm yet deliberately casual as he replied, “You’re doing an excellent job.” There was an undertone in his words, a thread of appreciation that felt more personal than professional. “Thank you, Isabel.”

Her lips curved into a shy smile, her blush deepening further as she dipped her head. “Of course, Master Linus,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, as though seeking refuge from the intensity of his presence, she turned back to the shelf, her focus shifting once more to her task.

But the moment didn’t dissipate—it lingered, thick as honey in the air. Linus watched her for a heartbeat longer, his gaze tracing the lines of her figure as she moved, the soft sway of her body captivating in its simplicity. The tension between them was palpable, a silent current that sparked and flickered, both thrilling and dangerous.

Desire churned in him, insistent and undeniable, growing stronger with every stolen glance. The sight of her—so unguarded, so effortlessly alluring—had ignited something deep and primal within him. The curve of her waist, the way her skirt clung to her hips, the gentle flush of her cheeks. And yet, Linus’s mind raced with warnings, the rational part of him warring with the pull of his emotions.

Isabel wasn’t just a woman. She was tied to Mara—a vital thread in the web he was spinning, a pawn in the intricate game of power he was playing. Mara was his ultimate prize, the key to everything he sought. To lose sight of that, to indulge even for a moment in the growing hunger he felt for Isabel, would be reckless. Dangerous.

When Linus arrived at his quarters, he immediately pulled the bell cord to summon Marcus. The response was swift; Marcus entered moments later, bowing slightly as he stepped into the room.

Linus wasted no time. “Send flowers and an expensive dress to Amy from the drama company,” he instructed, his voice clipped, cold, and precise. There was no trace of hesitation, no hint of sentiment. This was business, pure and simple. “Include a note. Something flattering but vague enough to keep her guessing.”

Marcus inclined his head, his expression as unreadable as always. “Anything specific you'd like the note to say, Master?”

Linus leaned back in his chair, one hand idly tracing the edge of the desk as a faint smile curved his lips. He considered for a moment, the words forming in his mind with the same careful precision he used for all his strategies. “Keep it simple. ‘Looking forward to seeing you in this. From an admirer.’” His smile widened slightly, though his eyes remained cold. “That should be enough to intrigue her without giving too much away.”

He rose from his chair and began to pace, the measured sound of his boots against the floor echoing in the room. His mind lingered on Amy—a timid girl, perpetually in Aria’s shadow, desperate for validation she rarely received. He could already see the threads he would pull to unravel her insecurities and draw her closer. A gesture like this—lavish, unexpected—would feed the yearning she tried so hard to hide.

She was perfect for his needs. Not bold enough to demand more than he was willing to give, yet eager enough to bask in whatever attention he chose to bestow. She would be his distraction, an outlet for the restless, consuming desire that had ignited in him. A brothel could have offered the same release, but Linus craved the control, the game. The satisfaction of bending someone to his will was far more enticing than any fleeting physical pleasure.

Marcus’s steady voice cut through his thoughts. “Understood, Master. I’ll see to it right away.”

Before Marcus could leave, Linus’s voice cut through the air with icy precision. “One more thing, Marcus.” His words halted Marcus mid-step, drawing his full attention. Linus stopped pacing, his sharp gaze locking on his aide like a blade poised to strike. “I need you to investigate the Kermes family.”

Marcus turned without hesitation, his expression calm and attentive, his stance perfectly straight. “The Kermes family, Master?” he asked, his tone neutral, free of doubt or curiosity. Marcus had served Linus long enough to know his master’s commands were not to be questioned, only carried out. “What would you have me look into?”

Linus’s voice dropped to a dangerous low, deliberate and razor-sharp. “There’s a strong possibility they were involved in the attempt on Eliza’s life today.” He paused, his fingers pressing against the edge of the desk, the motion deliberate, almost contemplative. “I want to know why they would take such a risk. What are they after? And more importantly, who else might be pulling their strings?”

Marcus agreed without hesitation. “Got it, Master. I’ll start right away.”

Without another word, Marcus turned on his heel and left the room, his steps brisk and purposeful. The door closed softly behind him, and the room fell into a heavy silence once again.

Linus leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him as his mind churned. Investigating the Kermes family was critical—knowing their motives, their connections, and their vulnerabilities would be another key advantage in the complex game of power he was playing. Eliza’s attempted assassination wasn’t an isolated act. It was a ripple in a larger tide of schemes and alliances, and Linus intended to steer those currents to his benefit.

But his thoughts didn’t linger on the Kermes family for long. His eyes drifted to the map spread across his desk, the weight of his true goal settling heavily on his mind. The Phoenix Blade. The name alone seemed to have stirred unease and fascination across kingdoms. The alliances, the political tensions, and the looming threats were all intertwined with its existence.

His lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. This was his game. His rules. And soon, his victory.