THE FIRST SIN IN THE VIEWFINDER
Grey clouds descending over New York had wrapped the city in a stifling humidity. Far from the noisy streets of Manhattan, as the iron gates of that magnificent mansion overlooking the Hudson River creaked open, Mia looked out of the taxi window at the golden cage she was about to enter. Standing at 1.55 meters, she might have looked like a child before this towering, cold stone structure, but within Mia’s soul lay a storm hidden, one capable of shaking the very foundations of this house.
As she stepped out of the vehicle, the sudden New York downpour drenched her silk blouse in seconds. The fabric sealed to her skin like a second layer of flesh, and Mia tucked her professional camera under her jacket to protect it. She didn’t care that her delicate nipples became prominent under the wet silk or that the blouse turned translucent; on the contrary, this was her first weapon. By the time she reached the door, she could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears.
When the door was opened by an elderly butler, the scent of the mansion wafted out—sterile, expensive, and concealing a lie in every corner. The heavy aroma of fresh white lilies and oak...
“Mia... You finally made it.”
Elena stood at the top of the grand marble staircase like an ice queen. Her thirty-two-year-old sister, in her black satin robe and porcelain-smooth skin, was the ultimate symbol of authority. As Elena looked at Mia, that familiar, condescending smirk played on her lips. Mia remembered the day years ago at a ballet competition when Elena had filled her shoes with shards of glass. Elena had been smiling exactly like this then, too, looking down at Mia’s blood-soaked feet.
“Sister,” Mia said, infusing her voice with that fake, needy tone. “Thank you for taking me in.”
“Your guest room is ready, Mia. But staying here comes with a price; you will abide by our rules and our peace,” Elena said, her voice as sharp as a blade.
Just then, the air pressure in the room shifted instantly with the heavy creak of the library door. When Alexander—Alex—stepped inside, Mia felt the oxygen fail her lungs. Standing at 1.85 meters, in a razor-sharp grey suit, he looked like an emperor. Alex didn’t just manage money; he commanded it. When his sharp jawline, slightly furrowed brows, and those freezing grey eyes settled on Mia, the mansion’s coldness was suddenly replaced by a scorching electricity.
Alex’s eyes caught the inviting curves beneath Mia’s rain-soaked, clinging blouse. A one-second pause... That tiny crack in the armor of a man like Alex was the first sign of victory for Mia.
“Welcome, Mia,” Alex said. His voice was as soft as velvet, yet just as distant. “Elena has arranged everything for you. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for here.”
Mia paused with a conscious clumsiness as she passed by Alex. Her wet shoulder grazed lightly against Alex’s firm hand. In that momentary contact of moisture and heat, Mia clearly felt the muscles in Alex’s hand tighten and his breath hitch for a split second. Looking deep into Alex’s eyes, she slowly licked her lips. “Peace, Alexander? I didn’t come here to find peace, but to capture new frames.”
Elena, acting as if she hadn’t noticed this silent war, brought the wine glass to her lips. “Mia is a photographer, Alex. She’s always looking for something with that damn camera of hers. Tell her not to go out into the garden; Paul is very busy today.”
Once Mia settled into her room and stripped off her wet clothes, she wrapped herself in a robe and went straight to the window. The massive garden stood like a mournful painting under the rain. And at the far end of the garden, in that misty area where the forest merged, she saw Paul.
Mia held her breath as she looked through the viewfinder of her camera. Paul, with his massive 1.90-meter frame and skin the color of charcoal glistening with rain and sweat, was like a force of nature. The sleeveless shirt he wore wasn’t enough to hide the rope-like veins in his arms and his broad shoulders. The raw and uncontrolled power he displayed while pruning the bushes with heavy garden shears was like a slap to the “noble” atmosphere of this sterile mansion.
When Paul lifted his head and looked toward the mansion, Mia pressed the shutter. Click. Paul’s wild, raw energy was now on Mia’s memory card. But there was something else Mia noticed. While Paul was working in the garden, the curtain of Elena’s room had been slightly parted. Was Elena there? Was she watching Paul?
Mia smiled. In this house, everyone was watching something; everyone was chasing something. Mia left her camera on the table. She generously sprayed her vanilla-scented perfume on her neck and cleavage. She could hear Alex’s authoritative voice from the library below.
“You set the rules of the game, Alexander,” Mia whispered, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “But through the viewfinder, only I will see who kneels to whom.”
Mia slowly loosened the belt of her robe. Soon, she would go down to the library to “ask Alex something.” As the rain intensified outside, she was ready to strike the first spark of the silent fire within.
