Chapter 2Dreams Beyond the Stars

I saw him again three days later.

He showed up at my villa wrapped in bandages, standing in the center of the living room beneath a massive crystal chandelier.

I leaned back in my armchair, studying his face properly for the first time. It had been too covered in grime and blood before, but now I could see it clearly. He looked like a Shaw, especially like Logan—my so-called older brother.

Their eyes were nearly identical: a pale, light color, with an upward tilt at the corners. When they narrowed their eyes, they reminded you of a hawk hunting on the plains.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. If that had been Logan I was staring at so disrespectfully, he probably would have had my pants stripped off and thrown me in the family chapel to be disciplined.

“Logan,” I snarled, grinding my teeth.

“Who?” Caleb asked, frowning at me in confusion.

God, even the way he looked down on me was the same!

Catching him off guard, I hooked my foot behind his knees, sending him crashing to the floor in front of me. He tried to scramble back up, but I was already on my feet, my shoe planted firmly on his shoulder, holding him down.

“Caleb, my maid and my driver quit this morning,” I announced. “You’ll be taking their place. You’ll cook my meals and drive me to and from school. This arrangement will last for six months. During that time, you are on call, 24/7.”

He looked up, his pale eyes like clear pools of water, a faint hint of confusion in them. “That’s it?”

I raised an eyebrow and smiled, tapping his Adam’s apple with the toe of my shoe. “On paper, yes. But sometimes… I get in the mood for other things.”

My voice was a suggestive purr. I leaned down, my lips brushing against his cheek. “What’s the matter? Don’t want to?”

His head, which had been lowered, snapped up. His dark gaze met mine, and his eyes seemed to burn. Without any warning, he lunged forward and bit my lip.

“I’m always at your service,” he rasped.

I yelped and shoved him back. “Ugh, what the hell…” I spat, wiping my mouth.

“System, didn’t you say he was straight? Does a straight guy just bite someone like that? That bastard broke the skin!”

The System played dead, offering no response, leaving me to fume by myself.

Maybe my stunned silence went on for too long, because he finally broke it. “Does the young master have any other orders?”

I looked at him. He was still on his knees—a posture of submission—but his eyes held a defiant spark. A knot of frustration tightened in my chest. I told him to get out.

As he was leaving, he glanced back at me, his gaze falling on my bare feet on the expensive rug. I saw his throat work as he swallowed.

“It’s getting colder,” he said, his voice low. “You should… wear shoes.”

I was so enraged I hurled an ashtray, and it shattered at his feet.

Just like his goddamn brother. Both of them obsessed with whether or not I was wearing shoes.

Fucking psychos.