CHAPTER 85: NOT QUITE MIDNIGHT, CINDERELLA

Merlina sucked in a breath like he’d struck her. Not because of the harshness of the words, but because of the truth in them.

Craig wasn’t Conor. And that was the problem. She knew it too well. Too intimately.

They were brothers, but that truth had never stopped her from slipping. From letting Craig in. From dropping her guard too soon, too easily.

She kept forgetting.

Forgetting who his brother was. Forgetting why she came to Belford in the first place.

Since day one, Craig had been a distraction, quiet and consuming. And not once, not when she found out he had a girlfriend, not when the darkest truths clawed their way to the surface, not even when she found about the affair—did her feelings stop.

They didn’t run. They didn’t retreat. Nothing was strong enough to shake him out of her heart.

And that terrified her.

Because she had tried. God, she had tried to kill whatever it was that kept pulling her back to him. Tried to drown it with logic and facts and whispered reminders spoken like prayers, hoping her heart would finally listen.

But it never did.

She told herself he was just like Conor. But he wasn’t. And that truth stung more than the lie ever did.

Because Craig wasn’t cruel, even when he was impulsive, even when he said the wrong things or masked his tenderness with sarcasm, he was still reaching for her.

Still offering something soft, even if sometimes it came wrapped in thorns.

Every time he reached for her, she kept tossing his hand back in his face. Over and over. Because it was easier than admitting what scared her most.

That she still wanted him.

Even now.

Merlina folded her arms tighter, as if that might hold in all the pieces trying to break loose. Her voice came out quieter than she meant, but she didn’t dare meet his eyes.

"I should probably go check on them."

Because if she didn’t move now, she wasn’t sure she could walk away at all.

Merlina climbed the stairs slowly, her thoughts still tangled in everything she didn’t say out loud.

Craig didn’t follow right away, but eventually, his footsteps sounded behind her, quiet and steady, like wasn’t done with their conversation. But neither of them spoke.

When Merlina reached the top stair landing, a wide and open balance space that bridged the stairwell and the bedrooms, it was already alive with motion.

Isabel was snapping photos beside a minimalist wall sconce like it belonged in an art exhibit. Carlos and Alistair were draped lazily across a sleek sectional sofa tucked to the side, making themselves at home as if they’d been invited to a private retreat.

To the left, one of the bedroom doors stood wide open. Inside, Melissa was sprawled dramatically across a queen-sized bed, inspecting her nails like she’d just checked into a five-star resort. The sheets were still crisp. She didn’t care. Immediately she saw Merlina, she stepped out.

"Okay, this place is sick," she declared, eyes gleaming. "I’m taking a hot shower before I pass out. The bathrooms have heated floors, Merlina. Heated. Floors."

Merlina blinked, barely through the doorway, and already felt like she’d stepped into the teen edition of Big Brother—minus the cameras, but definitely not the drama.

Craig reached the top of the stairs just a few seconds after Merlina. The hallway split into three rooms, and as soon as he stepped in, everyone slowed down.

"Okay," Isabel breathed, spinning in place. "This isn’t just a guest house, it’s an escape to paradise."

"Yeah, it’s like... a smart house," Alistair said, poking at a panel on the wall. "Everything’s voice activated or touch-responsive."

Carlos ran a hand down the smooth wooden banister. "This must’ve cost a fortune."

Craig only offered a small shrug. "Just try not to set anything on fire."

Isabel was already eyeing the rooms, her shoes clicking softly on the floor. "So...which one? I really need that hot shower."

Craig gestured to the two doors nearest each other. "You can pick between these two," he said to Isabel, then turned to the room at the far end of the hall...a little tucked away, a little too nice. His gaze lingered. "Merlina, that one’s yours."

Everyone suddenly fell silent.

The kind that wasn’t casual. The kind that noticed things.

Isabel blinked. Alistair raised a brow. Carlos tilted his head. No one said a word, but every single person in that hallway had the same thought at the exact same time.

Even the air stilled like it was in on it.

Melissa, with excellent comedic timing and an Olympic-level ability to deflect, clapped her hands once. "Right! Isabel and I will take this one," she said quickly, dragging her cousin like they were fleeing the scene of a crime. "Carlos, Alistair, you boys get that one across."

She shot a quick glance at Merlina. Then at Craig. Then back at Merlina.

And smirked.

Merlina didn’t say a word. But her ears were burning.

Everyone else nodded. Agreement passed in low murmurs. "Thanks, man," Alistair said to Craig.

Craig moved toward the nearest light panel, giving a short tour of the house’s features. "Okay, this controls lighting, heating, and privacy modes. Everything’s synced. If anything glitches, press the round button and wait. Don’t fight it—it wins."

He turned to Merlina last, fingers lingering just a second longer on the lock.

The soft beep sounded as the door slid open.

"Your lock resets once you’re in. Shower’s automated, but you’ll have to toggle the settings. It takes a second to learn, but it’s not hard."

Merlina blinked, trying to absorb it all. "I feel like I need a manual."

As he spoke, Merlina leaned in for a quick glance and stilled. Just a glimpse, and it felt divine.

This room wasn’t like the others.

Craig gave a faint smile. "Just don’t yell at the mirror. It listens."

And with that, he left descending the stairs again like he hadn’t just handed her something more than a room.

Merlina’s hand hovered on the door handle before she fully pushed it open.

She was greeted with warmer and quieter air as she stepped inside. The lighting dimmed to a soft amber glow, casting gentle shadows across a dark oak floor. Plush rugs, clean-lined furniture, a fireplace already glowing faintly in the corner.

But it was the balcony that made her stop.

Beyond the glass doors, through sheer curtains, was a private outdoor nook. A hot tub sat nestled in a wood-panel enclosure, steam curling up into the cold night air. The lights around it were low, almost romantic.

Isabel’s voice broke through the stillness as she and Melissa stepped into the room behind her—uninvited, of course. Immediately they both understood why this room had been the only one locked during their earlier house tour.

They both stared.

"Oh, no," Isabel whispered, eyes locked on the far wall.

Melissa followed her gaze and gasped. "Wait... is that a balcony?"

Before Merlina could respond, Isabel was already pulling out her phone, angling for the best shot. "It has a hot tub," she breathed, camera snapping away like she was documenting evidence.

Then Melissa turned slowly to Merlina, her voice half-accusation, half-awe. "You do know he gave you the best room, right?"

Merlina folded her arms tightly. "Can you two not?"

Isabel raised her brows. "We’re just saying, this is not a guest room. Look at the books. Look at the desk."

"Did you see the throw on that bed?" Melissa added, already halfway to touching it. "And the bath towels are rolled. Like a hotel."

"Seriously," Isabel said. "You sure this isn’t his room?"

Merlina didn’t answer. She glanced at the nightstand. A watch tray. A pen that looked far too personal.

A faint scent that still lingered in the air. Clean and woodsy, the kind she’d grown used to around him.

She turned to them with a dry look. "Didn’t you both say you were tired?"

Isabel grinned. "Fine, fine."

"We’re going," Melissa sing-songed, already backing out the door. "Enjoy your master suite, Cinderella."

When they were gone, Merlina stood in the middle of the room, suddenly still.

There was a soft luxury in the details, a Burberry trench slung with intention over the chair, a matte leather duffel tucked neatly by the nightstand—Hermès, of course. The way the desk chair was slightly turned, as if someone had just stood from it.

She felt her heart stumble, then steady itself.

"Did he... give me his room?"