Eden Manor: The Pianist in a Gilded Cage

“The day he brought me back to the manor, I finally understood—salvation comes with a lock.”

Chapter 1

“Adrian, it hurts. Can you take it off?”

“Take it off, so you can run again?”

“Adrian, you want me to be your prisoner?”

“Why not. I can lock up your body and cage your soul, then you’ll be mine forever.”

My name was Sophie Jensen. When I was a freshman in high school, my dad died after a long illness.

After that, Mom brought her little tag-along kid with her and married a wealthy man. Adrian Sinclair was that man’s son.

Adrian’s mother had struggled with severe depression. When Adrian was ten, she took her own life, cutting her wrists right in front of him.

Blood soaked into the floor. The boy beside it went paper-white, eyes blown wide, so terrified he couldn’t even make a sound.

The first time I saw Adrian, he had just turned nineteen. His features were sharp, his gaze dark, his whole face set in a stormy gloom.

He stood at the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing, staring at me like I was something he couldn’t stand.

That look brought back a memory from when I was little. There had been a stray dog, all filthy and miserable, and one afternoon after school I felt sorry for it and held out half a hot dog.

It didn’t take the food. It lunged and bit me instead.

It hated me, and I couldn’t stand that.

Even with my hand bleeding, I grabbed it and hung it up. I jabbed at it with a stick, sliced at its fur and skin with a small knife.

It shrieked from the pain, and I felt a rush of excitement.

Maybe there had always been something wrong with me.

I made myself look intimidated under Adrian’s stare. My fingers trembled as I tugged on Mom’s sleeve and hid behind her.

Richard Sinclair saw me shrink back and smiled as he crouched down. He pointed toward the stairs.

“Soph, it’s okay. That’s Adrian.”

I kept my voice small and timid. “Adrian.”

He didn’t even look at me. He turned and went upstairs.

I smiled to myself. What a rude bastard.

Chapter 2

After that, I started sticking to Adrian Sinclair like glue. I walked to school with him, I walked home with him, and at the manor I kept showing up at his door with a textbook in my arms, asking him questions.

At first, Adrian looked like he couldn’t stand me. His face stayed cold, impatient, almost disgusted, but I always answered with a grin, brushed my hair lightly against him, and acted sweet as if I’d never learned what shame was.

Eventually, he would give in. He’d smile like he was helpless against me, then reach out and ruffle my hair.

“Good girl, Soph.”

See, who says no to a harmless little cat?

Other than class, we were almost never apart. After a while, even his classmates started calling me his little shadow.

Some of the girls who were just starting to get crushes took one look at his clean-cut, upright act and fell hard. They asked me to deliver notes to him.

I was happy to do it. Richard had mentioned that after Adrian’s mom died, he didn’t get close to girls, so I didn’t have to worry about him falling for anyone else.

But I still needed him to fall for me.

How was I supposed to make that happen?

When I turned eighteen, I stopped being satisfied with simply hovering at his side. One afternoon at the basketball court, he played with that same cool, distant expression, sinking shots like a machine and handling the ball like it belonged to him.

The girls nearby cheered and clapped like they were watching a show. Like always, I waited for him to finish so we could go home.

After the game, he waved at his friends and walked over to me. He was a little over six feet, built in that effortless way that made everything look unfair.

Standing in front of a boy who practically breathed testosterone, I kissed him before I could talk myself out of it. His lips were cold at first, then warmth bloomed under mine.

He clearly hadn’t expected it. He froze for a couple seconds, then pushed me back.

Heat rushed into my face, shame and hurt twisting together. “Adrian, I’m sorry. I, I didn’t mean to.”

I thought he’d be disgusted. I thought I’d moved too fast.

Instead, his hand slid behind my head, holding me in place and tipping my chin up, then he kissed me.

I looped my arms around his neck and met him halfway. The air between us turned sweet and thick, our breaths tangling until it felt like there was nowhere else to go.

But I’d clung to him for so long, it had started to feel normal to him.

If I let him believe I was his too easily, wouldn’t that make me cheap?

I’d played the gentle cat for too long. The darker part of me was almost drowning under the softness.

That day, I waited outside the main building like I always did, killing time until Adrian got out of class. I was still thinking about what might actually get under his skin when someone tapped me from behind and pulled me back to the moment.

Ethan Parker gave my head a light pat. “Soph, waiting for Adrian again?”

A sweet smile spread across my lips, innocent enough to fool anyone. “Yeah. Is he coming down yet?” (Right, isn’t my little trigger standing right here.)

“He should be out soon,” Ethan said. “Do you want to go up and find him?”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll wait here.”

He leaned in a little, the corners of his mouth lifting into a bright, warm smile. His thumb brushed lightly over my hair.

“You’re so good, Soph.”

Ethan was in the same grade as Adrian, and they played basketball together all the time. He was nothing like Adrian.

Ethan was the sunny, clean kind of boy, all easy smiles and white teeth, like he could bottle up sunlight and let it loose whenever he wanted. Adrian was the opposite, cool and shadowed, eyes deep as a black lake, like a predator moving through the dark.

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