Lethal Lilac

CHAPTER 6

Lilac

The garden had a strange quiet, the only sound being the whisper of the wind brushing past the flowers. I stood there, holding the lilac, my fingers numb as they traced its soft petals. Its color was delicate—lavender with hints of pale purple—that made it seem almost unreal against the dull backdrop of the gray sky. But even though it was beautiful, I felt nothing. It was just a flower, and I, just an empty shell, standing there with it in my hand.

I had come here for no reason, hoping to find something, but all I found was silence. The garden, the flower, the emptiness in my chest—they were all just distractions. I could hear my own heartbeat pulsing in my ears, but it didn’t feel real. The numbness that had settled inside me was like a thick fog, making everything distant.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring down at the lilac as if it could somehow fill the void inside. Then I heard footsteps behind me, sharp against the cobblestones, cutting through my daze.

“Miss Violetta,” the valet said, his voice calm but carrying a quiet urgency. “The master requests your presence in the parlor.”

The words barely registered. The master? Grant? It felt like a dream—a hazy, faraway thing that I had no power to control. My body moved on its own, my feet carrying me toward the house without a word. I didn’t even look at the valet as he led me through the mansion, my senses dull, like I was floating.

When we reached the parlor, the valet opened the door for me, stepping aside. I paused at the threshold, a cold chill running through me as I stared into the room. The air was thick with tension, a quiet weight pressing down from the moment I stepped inside.

And there he was.

Grant was seated casually on a dark leather couch, one leg crossed over the other in a relaxed, almost careless way. But nothing about his posture seemed unimportant. His body was tall, broad-shouldered, and every inch of him radiated a presence that demanded attention without needing to raise his voice. He wore a tailored black suit that fit perfectly, emphasizing the lines of his body. His hair, dark and slightly messy, fell just above his brows, giving him a rugged, yet refined appearance. His jaw was strong, the kind of jawline you’d see in portraits—sharp, yet undeniably attractive.

He was stroking a sleek black cat that was curled up in his lap, its eyes half-closed in contentment, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Grant. His face was set in a calm, neutral expression, though there was something about his eyes. They were dark, almost bottomless, like they were studying me. It was like he could see right through me, and the unsettling part was, I didn’t mind. I couldn’t look away.

When I stepped further into the room, he lifted his gaze from the cat, his eyes locking onto mine. There was no warmth there, no expression of surprise—just a quiet, almost dangerous calm. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came at first. He just observed me, unblinking, waiting for something.

I didn’t move. I was too numb to react, too caught in the stillness that seemed to hang between us. My fingers clenched around the lilac in my hand, and for a moment, I almost didn’t feel it. The flower seemed like it belonged to a different version of me, one that was whole. Not this... hollow person, standing there with it.

“You’ve brought a gift,” Grant finally said, his voice low, smooth. It was deliberate, almost taunting, though he didn’t seem to expect an answer. His gaze flicked briefly to the lilac in my hand before returning to my face.

I didn’t know how to respond. It was just a flower. Nothing more. And yet, in his presence, even something so insignificant felt heavy. I could feel the pull of his attention, but I couldn’t summon the will to speak. I was too distant, too numb.

Grant didn’t press me, though. He set the cat gently aside, the creature stretching lazily before curling back up on the couch. Grant’s movement was fluid, deliberate, like everything he did was part of a carefully calculated plan. He leaned back into the couch, his posture relaxed but still commanding. His body was solid, strong, with the kind of muscles that could be hidden beneath his suit if you weren’t paying attention, but I noticed.

His dark eyes never left me. There was something intense about his gaze, like he was peeling back layers I didn’t even know I had.

“Come closer,” he said softly, his voice deeper now. There was a subtle authority in his words, the kind that made my body react before my mind could process it. “We have much to discuss.”

I didn’t move at first. My legs felt like they were made of stone, unwilling to take a single step forward. But something about the way he spoke, the weight of his gaze, tugged at something inside me—something buried deep down, something that made me feel like I couldn’t remain in the doorway forever.

Slowly, almost against my will, I took a step forward, then another. The air between us seemed thick, and each movement felt like I was breaking through some invisible barrier. As I neared him, the numbness in my chest started to fade, replaced by something else. Something raw.

When I reached the couch, I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to sit, if I wanted to be this close to him. But there was no escaping the fact that the room, his presence, his gaze—they all seemed to envelop me.

Grant leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing, studying me with quiet intensity. He wasn’t rushing me, but I felt like I was being pulled into his orbit, unable to resist.

“I see you’ve finally come out of hiding,” he murmured, almost to himself, though his words were loud enough for me to hear.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer, couldn’t bring myself to move. The flower was still in my hand, but even the softness of the flower couldn’t mask the tension in the air. Grant leaned back into the couch, his gaze steady as ever.

Finally, his lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

“Lilac,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “A flower of secrets, isn’t it?”

The word hung in the air, and for a moment, everything felt still, as if the room had forgotten to breathe. And in that single word, in the way he said it, I felt the weight of his presence press down on me once more.