Chapter Two: From Frying Pan into Fire

Aria slowly blinked her eyes open, her head throbbing from the lingering effects of the drug. She found herself in a luxurious, unfamiliar room adorned with elegant furnishings that screamed wealth and power. Panic surged through her as she quickly checked herself, her fingers trembling as they traced her clothes. Relief washed over her when she realized she hadn’t been violated—her clothes were intact, and nothing seemed out of place. But where was she? And how had she gotten here?

She glanced around the room, taking in the lavish decor—the silk curtains, the expensive art on the walls, and the faint scent of fresh flowers that filled the air. This was no ordinary hotel room; it was a suite fit for royalty. As she tried to piece together what had happened, the sound of footsteps approaching the door jolted her from her thoughts. Without a second thought, Aria quickly shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep, hoping to gather any information she could from whoever was coming in.

The door creaked open, and she heard two distinct voices.

“Mr. Sinclair, I must remind you of your condition,” Lucas’s voice was respectful but cautious. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Aria’s heart skipped a beat. Alexander Sinclair. The name clicked in her mind, and she immediately recognized it. Sinclair Enterprises was one of the most powerful conglomerates in the city, and its reclusive CEO, Alexander Sinclair, was known for his gynophobia, an intense fear of women. What was she doing in his house?

“I’m well aware of my illness, Lucas,” Alexander replied, his voice deep and authoritative, yet laced with an unusual uncertainty. “But I need to test if there’s been any change. I want to know if I’ve been cured.”

“But why her, sir?” Lucas questioned, keeping his tone even. “There are so many other women to try it with. Besides, she’s not even awake yet—it wouldn’t be right.”

Aria’s breath hitched. What were they talking about? She kept her breathing steady, fighting the urge to react.

Alexander sighed, a trace of frustration in his voice. “You’re right. It’s not the right time. Let me know as soon as she wakes up.”

Aria stayed perfectly still, her heart racing as she listened to their footsteps fading away. Once she was sure they were gone, she bolted upright, eyes wide with fear and determination. “From the frying pan into the fire,” she muttered under her breath. She had narrowly escaped Ethan’s betrayal, only to land in another dangerous situation. She needed to get out of here—now.

Meanwhile, outside the room, Alexander glanced at Lucas, his expression thoughtful. “If I asked to touch her hands, do you think she’d agree?”

Lucas smiled, sensing his boss’s rare moment of vulnerability. “Tell her it’s because of your allergy, sir. She’ll help you if she understands.”

Alexander nodded, considering the suggestion as they walked away.

Back in the room, Aria sprang into action. She quickly spotted the maid’s attire hanging neatly on a rack near the closet. She didn’t have time to think twice; she pulled on the plain uniform, adjusting it until she looked the part. It was a slim chance, but her only way out of this gilded prison was to blend in. Keeping her head down and her steps measured, she slipped out of the room, blending into the bustling flow of staff who moved around the grand estate.

Aria maneuvered her way through the hallways, keeping her face hidden and her movements discreet. She could see the lush gardens through the large windows, and her heart lifted momentarily at the thought of freedom being just a few steps away. She had almost made it to the side entrance when she accidentally bumped into a middle-aged maid carrying a tray of linens. The woman stumbled, dropping the linens, and the clatter immediately drew the attention of the nearby bodyguards.

“Hey! You there!” one of the guards called out, suspicion lacing his tone.

Aria’s breath hitched, her eyes darting around for an escape route. She was out of time, and all eyes were now on her. She had to think fast if she wanted to avoid ending up back in that room—or worse, facing Alexander Sinclair himself.