Kian's POV
The house was too quiet at night.
Back at my old apartment, there was always some kind of noise to keep me company.
I could hear the distant sound of traffic from the street below, the low hum of the refrigerator, or the muffled voices of neighbors through the thin walls.
It wasn't perfect, but it felt alive. Here, there was absolutely nothing.
The silence was so deep that it felt heavy, like a physical weight pressing down on my chest.
I hated that I was starting to notice that.
I hated that my mind was already trying to adapt to this place, counting the seconds between the ticks of the clock.
Evan didn't feel like a normal person.
He didn't have any nervous habits.
He never tapped his fingers, he never sighed without a reason, and he never looked unsure of his next move.
He felt like a system.
A machine that had been programmed to look like a man, moving through life with perfect efficiency.
He was a controlled environment pretending to be human.
And yet…
There were moments.
Small ones.
Moments that happened so fast you could easily miss them if you weren't looking closely.
Little pieces of behavior that didn't fit that perfect, robotic image he presented to the world.
Like now.
I was walking down the long, dark hallway on my way back to my room, lost in my own thoughts.
The lighting was low, casting long shadows across the floor.
Because I wasn't paying full attention to where I was going, my foot caught slightly on the raised edge of the carpet.
It was a clumsy mistake. My body tilted forward before I could react or throw my hands out to catch myself.
The floor seemed to rush up to meet me.
"Ah—"
Before I could even finish the sound, a hand caught my arm.
It was firm.
It was steady.
The grip was tight enough to stop my fall instantly, holding me in place before I could crash onto the hard floor.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I realized how close I had come to falling flat on my face.
Evan was behind me.
He was standing too close. I could feel the heat radiating from him in the cool hallway, a sharp contrast to the cold atmosphere of the rest of the house.
"Careful," he said calmly, his voice right near my ear. His tone didn't sound panicked or shocked.
It was completely level, as if catching falling people in his hallway was just another part of his daily routine.
I pulled my arm back quickly, twisting away from his touch. I ripped my sleeve out of his grip, annoyed at myself more than him.
I hated feeling clumsy, and I hated being caught off guard even more.
"I had it under control," I snapped, brushing off my shirt as if that would erase the feeling of his hand on my arm.
"You were falling," he pointed out, his voice smooth and completely unbothered by my sharp tone.
"I was adjusting," I insisted, looking away from him.
"That's a creative way to describe losing balance."
I turned my head and glared at him, narrowing my eyes to show him exactly how much I didn't appreciate the comment.
He looked completely unaffected by my anger. He just stood there, his hands resting easily at his sides, watching me with those calm, analytical eyes.
Then, as if it meant nothing at all, he added:
"If you fall in my house, at least try not to break anything expensive."
I scoffed, a short, bitter sound escaping my throat. "Of course that's your concern. The furniture."
"It's a valid concern," he replied, and for a split second, I thought I saw a tiny glint of amusement in his eyes. "Some of these pieces are hard to replace."
And somehow…
That made it less annoying.
It wasn't likeable. I still didn't want to be here, and I still didn't want to deal with him. But his dry comment broke the tension.
It was just… less unbearable than his usual cold commands. It felt almost normal, like a real conversation instead of an interrogation.
A pause stretched between us in the dimly lit hallway. Neither of us moved for a long moment.
Then he stepped aside, clearing the path for me to continue walking.
"You're starting to get used to being here," he said softly.
"I'm not," I argued immediately, my defensive walls snapping right back into place.
"You are."
"No."
"Yes."
I sighed, running a hand over my face. It was completely useless to argue with him when he got like this. He always had to have the last word.
He smiled slightly at my frustration.
And for the first time…
I noticed it wasn't entirely sharp. Usually, his smiles felt like a warning, or a sign that he was three steps ahead of me in a game I didn't want to play.
But this one was different.
There was something softer underneath.
It was deeply buried, hidden away under layers of control and expensive suits. But it was definitely there.
And I didn't know why that bothered me more than his usual arrogance.
It would be much easier if he stayed a monster.
It would be easier if he was just a cold, heartless piece of stone.
Because people like Evan Leigh weren't supposed to have soft edges.
They were supposed to be sharp all the way through.
And I definitely wasn't supposed to be noticing them.