Amara Cross POV

"I went through two really terrifying situations... if it wasn’t for a strange man who showed up out of nowhere and saved me. He punched the attacker so hard his face was completely messed up."

Asla gasped and leaned closer, her curiosity burning. "Wait, wait! A mysterious hero? Handsome? Strong?! Don’t tell me your first day turned into a real-life drama!"

I groaned in fake annoyance. "It was almost a real crime, and you’re daydreaming! I want to cry."

Our laughter slowly faded as Asla stood and headed to the kitchen. "Come on, I’ll give you some of my clothes so we can deal with the bag situation... I have pajamas with beetle prints. A fair compensation!"

I lifted my head slowly, genuine fear on my face. "Asla, don’t do this... I don’t want nightmares tonight."

I let my hair fall over my shoulders after undoing the tie, gently rubbing my scalp with a deep sigh of relief. Then I straightened, searching for my phone in my bag... but my hand met nothing but emptiness.

"That’s strange... where did I put it?"

I searched under the cushions, turned the bag upside down... nothing.

"I didn’t use it in the director’s office... or in the taxi... could it be...?"

My eyes widened in shock, and I felt the blood drain from my face. "Oh my God, no, not again!"

I jumped up and rushed to the kitchen in panic. "Asla! A third disaster!"

She turned to me, placing a hand over her heart dramatically. "Oh my God, my heart just dropped! What is it now?!"

I said, my face pale as death, "I forgot my phone in Mr. Dorian’s car."

She slowly put the knife down on the counter and looked at me in surprise. "Who? Mr. Dorian? The man who helped you today?"

I nodded and dragged a chair to collapse onto it in defeat. "What am I supposed to do now?"

We exchanged miserable looks until Asla pulled out her phone. "Here, call your number. If he has it, he’ll answer."

I grabbed the phone, my fingers trembling as I typed my number. I pressed call and lifted it to my ear.

It rang... and rang...

No answer.

I sighed in frustration. "No one’s answering... I must’ve dropped it on the street."

I was about to hand the phone back, but before it even touched the table, it suddenly vibrated in my hand. I looked at the screen.

"Amor!"

"It’s him! It’s him!" Asla and I screamed at the same time.

Silence filled the air as I took a deep breath, then my finger rushed to press the green button. "Hello? Is this Mr. Dorian..."

I didn’t finish. His deep voice filled my ears, heavy and masculine in a way that sent chills through me. "Little one, is this a phone or a maze? I press answer, and it throws me into a hair styling game."

My mouth fell open in shock, and I slapped my forehead. What a disaster. This cursed phone!

I took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together, while Asla waved at me wildly, whispering, "Put... it... on speaker!"

I pressed the button nervously. "I’m really sorry, Mr. Dorian. My phone must have fallen in your car without me noticing."

"It’s fine. Do you want me to return it to you?"

I looked at Asla, who was practically bouncing like a rabbit and nodding excitedly. I tried to sound composed, but my voice came out stiff.

"Yes, if you don’t mind... but how will you return it?"

"I’m busy right now. We can meet tomorrow at three thirty at Señorita restaurant if you want, and I’ll give it to you then."

"Goodbye, little one. Don’t worry. Your phone is safe with me."

"Goodbye, Mr. Dorian."

Just before I ended the call, his voice came back, teasing. "By the way... your aggressive method of turning on that crazy phone works really well."

The call ended. I froze in place. What method? Then the memory hit me, me hitting the phone repeatedly in front of him to make it work. How humiliating.

I looked at Asla, who had collapsed on the floor, clutching her stomach from laughing so hard.

"Oh my God, did he see how you turn on your grandma’s phone?!"

She was coughing from laughter. I handed her a glass of water, pressing my lips together in embarrassment.

"I want the ground to open up and swallow me right now."

I pressed my forehead against the bus window, a shiver running through my bones like needles. I wanted to cry, sleep, or disappear for just two minutes away from this world. My head spun like a storm, and my temperature kept rising like I was burning from the inside in the middle of a freezing winter.

After a rough ride, I finally found myself in front of the university gate. My legs carried me unwillingly. The place was full of rich students. Everything around me felt slow, heavy, and blurred through the haze of sickness.

I felt like I no longer had a body, just a pile of exhaustion wrapped in a heavy coat. I decided to head to the clinic, hoping to find something to cool the fire burning through me.

I staggered as I walked, like I was drunk. The lights in the hallway danced in front of my eyes, until suddenly, a warm, strong hand grabbed my arm to support me.

I slowly lifted my head and saw a beautiful dark-skinned girl. Her wavy brown hair fell over her shoulders, and light freckles decorated the tip of her nose like scattered sugar.

"Are you okay? I saw you in the lecture hall earlier. You looked tired. No one noticed you, but I was sitting behind you."

She took me to the doctor. Inside the clinic, the doctor turned to me with a gentle smile. "Alright, I’ll take care of you now, little one. Come here, Amara."

My heart skipped at the word little one. I don’t know why Mr. Dorian’s image suddenly flashed in my mind.

"Let me check your temperature first," the doctor said, placing the digital thermometer under my tongue.

She frowned slightly. "Almost forty degrees... that’s high. You’ll stay here for a while. I’ll give you a fever shot and some medicine for your runny nose."

My body started trembling from the cold despite the warmth of the room. I extended my arm in surrender when the doctor approached with the needle, closing my eyes tightly when it touched my skin.

"You’re new here, right?" she asked while pressing cotton on the injection spot.

"Yes... it’s my first day at the university..."

I parted ways with the girl when she went to the restroom, and my feet carried me to the hall she had described. But a woman in her thirties stopped me with a sharp voice.

"Excuse me, are you Amara Cross?"

I stopped and turned slowly. "Yes, that’s me, ma’am."

Her right eyebrow lifted in a strange look, a mix of disdain and indifference, as if I had committed an unforgivable crime.

"Go to the director’s office immediately."

My eyes widened in shock, and I froze. What did I do? Why would the director want to see me on my first day?

"Why...?" I asked hesitantly, but she cut me off sharply, wounding my pride.

"There is no why. Move that ass of yours and go to the office!"

I gasped in shock and instinctively grabbed my backside, drowning in embarrassment I had never felt before. She ignored me and walked away. I searched for the office nervously until a student guided me.

I stood in front of the large door and knocked softly.

"Come in," a calm masculine voice said from inside.

I opened the door slowly, not daring to lift my eyes from the floor.

"Are you the student Amara Cross?" he asked, his tone assessing.

"Yes... that’s me," I replied in a barely audible voice.

Silence filled the room for a second, then he spoke more firmly. "It’s not polite to avoid looking at the person you’re speaking to, Miss Cross."

That tone... that voice... it felt familiar in a way that terrified me. I slowly raised my head, and the moment my eyes landed on the man behind the desk, I gasped sharply as if the air had been stolen from my lungs.

"Mr. Dorian?! Are you... the university director?!"

He sat there with a commanding presence, his hands clasped on the desk, his dark eyes fixed on me with calm intensity.

"We greet first, don’t we?"

I gasped again and quickly bowed, trying to gather my scattered dignity. "Hello, Mr. Dorian."

I stood there for a few seconds, lost, then turned to leave. Just before my hand touched the door handle, I turned back to him quickly.

"Mr. Dorian..."

He lifted his gaze to me calmly. I swallowed and asked in a low voice, "My phone... I mean... do you have it with you now?"

He didn’t speak. A simple hum confirmed he still had it. I took a deep breath and finally said with a bit more confidence, "Can you give it to me then?"

He watched me in silence that felt provoking, then spoke flatly, his expression unchanged.

"At three o’clock. Don’t be late."

Amara Cross POV

"Don't overthink it, Amara. It's just a normal car," I told myself, trying to push away the unease. But my steps started to quicken, then turned into something close to running.

I wrapped my scarf tightly around my neck until it almost covered my nose and kept walking steadily... until a strange feeling crept over me. The sound of a car engine behind me. It was quiet, moving slowly, matching my pace exactly.

The car didn't fall back. It got closer. A kidnapper? A lunatic stalking me? I swallowed hard and broke into a real run, but a violent coughing fit hit my chest and stopped me cold.

A sharp pain stabbed my side, forcing me to stop as I pressed my hand against it, gasping for breath. At that moment, I felt a warm hand touch my shoulder from behind.

I screamed with everything I had. I spun around and swung my bag at him, then started hitting his chest and shoulders with my frozen hands, shouting in panic, "Stay away from me, you kidnapper! Do you think I'm scared? You don't scare me!"

My eyes were squeezed shut, my voice breaking from fear. Suddenly, he caught both my wrists firmly. His broad chest blocked all my movement, his breath dangerously close to my face.

"You crazy girl... calm down."

I opened my eyes wide. Shock froze my tongue. "Oh my God... Mr. Dorian, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it. I thought you were..."

He raised an eyebrow slightly, his tone amused. "You're insane."

Without another word, he slipped his arm behind my back with a firm gentleness and opened the car door that had stopped right behind me.

"Get in."

He said it calmly. I hesitated for a second, about to protest, but his sharp look cut me off before I could speak.

I got in quietly and sat down, watching him walk around the car and take the driver's seat. His eyes never left mine.

I turned my face away, guilt heavy in my voice. "I'm sorry for hitting you... I didn't mean to. I just thought you were a kidnapper."

"It's not your fault... I scared you too," he said simply, a faint smile touching his lips, making me shift in my seat and place my bag on my lap nervously, waiting for the car to move.

But his voice came suddenly, low and teasing. "Do you always forget to wear your seatbelt, or do you do it on purpose so I can put it on for you?"

My brows furrowed in surprise, and before I could respond, he leaned closer, his body invading my space, his strong scent filling my lungs. He reached beside me and pulled the belt gently, fastening it with calm ease. My cheeks burned.

"No, no, don't take it that way. I just... forgot, that's all."

He hummed softly, unreadable. I couldn't tell if he believed me or was just pretending to.

"But... how did you recognize me from that far away in the snow?" I asked hesitantly.

"I was heading to the restaurant and saw a short girl in an oversized coat walking like the coat was moving on its own... not hard to recognize you."

My eyes widened at his blunt teasing, and I crossed my arms. "I'm not that short!"

He finally looked at me, one brow raised in challenge. "How tall are you?"

I leaned back confidently. "Asking a woman about her height or weight is rude. We consider those things very private."

We finally arrived at the restaurant after a few minutes of silence. I looked at him and asked, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

He gave a short hum of approval.

"How old are you?"

He set his fork aside and answered calmly. "I just turned forty."

"Wow! I thought you were in your mid thirties. You look really young!"

He watched my reaction with cool indifference and went back to eating.

"How though? Do you use creams? Face masks? Or... do you sleep in a fridge?"

"Genes," he replied simply.

I raised my brows, impressed. "Oh, then lend me some of those genes. Just a little..."

He shot me a sly look and cut me off with a smirk. "If I gave you any, you'd disappear, little one. You're barely visible on the road already, and you want more?"

Time passed quickly, and as we returned to the car, the snow started falling again. I rubbed my hands together, searching for warmth despite the heater. My temperature was rising, a cold shiver spreading through my limbs. My head throbbed painfully, and the tremor in my hands became obvious, but Dorian was focused on the road.

I grabbed my bag weakly and took out the medicine the doctor had given me. I swallowed two pills and drank some water. I just wanted the pain to stop.

His voice came softly. "Are you okay?"

I turned to him slowly and nodded, lying, while my face told the truth. He went back to watching the road but kept glancing at me from time to time.

I looked ahead again, but my head couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to sleep, but I shouldn't... I shouldn't...

"What number is your house?"

His voice was the last thread holding me to reality before my heavy eyelids dropped and I fell into deep sleep.

All I felt was heaviness pressing on my eyelids. I tried to open my eyes, but they refused, as if sleep was pulling my soul down.

I shifted on the bed and opened my eyes slightly. My brows furrowed in confusion. These weren't Asla's modest walls. I slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes.

My mind started to clear. My eyes widened in panic as I threw the blanket off my body.

"I'm still wearing my clothes!"

I pushed the blanket away completely and tried to stand, only to find my winter shoes placed neatly beside the bed. That kind of order was not like me at all.

"Was I... kidnapped?"

I moved toward the door, my trembling hand gripping the cold handle carefully, afraid it might creak and expose me. No guards. No whispers. Nothing but silence. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, breathing deeply, trying to calm my racing heart.

"If you're kidnapped, Amara, you need to escape now."

I stepped into the long hallway, walking on my toes until I found myself in a stunning place.

"Wow... this might be the kitchen my grandma used to dream of... it's amazing!"

I walked toward the double door fridge. The moment I pressed it, it opened smoothly with impressive technology.

"Technology," I whispered in awe, but my amazement doubled when I saw what was inside. It was filled from top to bottom with delicious food. I sat on the floor, staring at a large plate overflowing with bright red strawberries and green grapes, my eyes lighting up.

I reached out, but my pride stopped me. "Isn't it shameful to eat from a kidnapper's fridge?"

I turned to leave, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.

"I know, dear... I want the strawberries too, but..."

I didn't resist for long. My hand slipped into the fridge. I picked the biggest strawberry. It was cold, its scent filling my nose.

"I'll give in... just for the beauty of this fruit."

I bit into it and closed my eyes, savoring the sweetness melting on my tongue. I grabbed another, then another, with childish greed.

I quickly washed my hands, but suddenly... footsteps echoed closer. I froze. I looked around wildly for a weapon until I spotted a heavy pan in the drawer. I grabbed it with both hands.

I hid behind the wall, watching the shadow approach. The moment the person appeared, I raised the pan and swung it at his head with all my strength... but he dodged it smoothly, making me stumble. In a blink, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pinning my wrists behind my back with practiced ease, the pan flying away.

"Stay away from me, you disgusting bastard!" I shouted, biting my lip in anger, struggling hard in his arms. My back was pressed against his broad chest, his warm breath brushing my neck.

"Be quiet, Amara... you'll cause a disaster if you keep struggling, and you won't like the consequences."

I froze. That deep, rough voice...

"Mr. Dorian!"

I suddenly felt something hard press against my lower back, making my body tense in shock, every nerve on edge.

"You want to hit your kidnapper with a pan?"

His whisper near my ear felt like a drug that stole my strength. When his grip loosened, I turned quickly and pushed him toward the wall, but he didn't move. He simply matched my steps with calm ease.

"Mr. Dorian?! What are you doing here?!"

He looked at me with confusion and a hint of amusement, then grabbed my wrist when I tried to reach for the pan again.

"Amara, what are you saying? What kidnapper can walk freely in his own house? This is my house."

The fear vanished, replaced by shock that froze my thoughts. "Your house?... Then what am I doing in your house?!"

"Do you really not remember? You were exhausted yesterday. When we reached your neighborhood, I asked for your address, but you... passed out suddenly."

I covered my mouth, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. What a disaster. Why did I sleep like the dead?

"Didn't you try to wake me?" I asked, watching his face nervously.

He raised an eyebrow with a sly look. "I did. But... do you know what you did?"

My palms grew sweaty, tension eating at me. "What did I do? I didn't do anything. I'm sure of it."

He stepped closer and placed his hand on my head, messing with my hair in a teasing way before pulling back.

"It's better if I don't say."

I crossed my arms, annoyed. "See? I told you, I didn't do anything!"

He ignored me completely and poured himself a glass of cold water. When he turned back, I froze in place. He was shirtless.

His broad chest was fully exposed, sculpted muscles defined, tattoos tracing his arm. I couldn't look away from his body that defied his age.

"Do you like it?"

"What?" I stammered, my body stepping back as he suddenly moved closer.

"I... I mean the strawberries. Yes, the strawberries were really good..."

My words stumbled, the air between us heating in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. I leaned back against the cold counter behind me, but my body was clearly trembling.

"Mr. Dorian, what's wrong?"

He ignored my question, his eyes locked onto mine in a way that made my breathing uneven. Suddenly, I gasped when I felt his hands grip my thighs and lift me effortlessly onto the counter.

His hands were cold despite my clothes, but the heat of his touch burned through the fabric. He didn't move them away, and neither did I. His closeness stirred something inside me, something both thrilling and terrifying.

His gaze moved over my face before settling on my lips, and my cheeks flushed deeper. No man had ever cornered me like this before.