Bound to Him

"You will never belong in this place as long as Nolan Miles is here. Mia Brock, this is only the beginning!"

...

Mia's eyelids squeezed shut as her face twisted in anguish, trapped within the throes of a tormenting dream-one that replayed a memory she would rather forget.

Crack!

A sharp snap echoed through the dim room-the unmistakable sound of porcelain shattering against the floor.

The noise yanked Mia out of her nightmare, her eyes shooting open with a start. She sat upright, heart pounding, her breath ragged.

She took a moment to collect herself, then remembered: she had been at this villa for three days now.

Her role?

To care for Henry Carter-once a vibrant man, now confined to a bed following a harrowing accident.

Nearly two weeks ago, Mr. Carter had been returning from a remote work assignment when a landslide struck the mountain pass.

His vehicle had plunged into a frozen river. Rescue had come too late to prevent serious spinal trauma.

Despite undergoing multiple surgeries, his recovery had stalled. Aside that, Henry had a notoriously difficult temperament, and it was no surprise that two caregivers had already resigned. Mia was the third to step into this role.

"Mia, get in here! Now!" a biting voice rang out from the bedroom down the hall, laced with frustration and authority.

She flinched at the sound, scrambling to grab her thick-rimmed glasses and flick on the nightlight. Without delay, she pushed herself out of bed and hurried to the room.

The soft glow of the lamp revealed Henry Carter lying squarely on the massive bed. His dark, penetrating eyes were wide open, gleaming with fire even in his weakened state.

The blanket only reached his waist, leaving his torso exposed beneath a half-buttoned pair of deep indigo silk pajamas. The fabric hung loosely on his powerful frame, his bronzed skin gleaming with a stubborn vitality that made it hard to look away.

On the floor beside the bed lay a shattered clay mug-likely the culprit behind the sound that had jolted her awake.

Henry's eyes were as cold as ice.

"Did you lose your hearing or just forget your job? Do you know how many times I called for you?" he snapped.

"I'm really sorry. It won't happen again," Mia said quietly, bowing her head slightly.

This was her third sleepless night under his watch. He woke constantly, every few hours, demanding assistance. Three hours of rest had become a luxury. Tonight, exhaustion had finally caught up with her.

"Would you like some water?" she asked, her voice soft but steady.

He pressed his lips together in a hard line before replying, "Go wake Steward Mason."

She tensed slightly. She knew what that meant.

Even though she was technically the primary caretaker, Mr. Carter had insisted on Steward Mason helping him to the restroom every single time.

The older man had barely had a chance to rest himself lately-Mia had seen him coughing relentlessly earlier that day, fatigue written all over his pale face.

"Mr. Carter," she said after a pause, "Steward Mason's been unwell today. He looked feverish. I can bring the chamber pot for you instead, if you'd prefer."

His eyes narrowed with disdain. "Do I need to repeat myself? I'm not some decrepit fool using a chamber pot. I want to go to the bathroom. Get Steward Mason!"

"I can take you," she offered gently, unwavering.

He scoffed. "And how do you plan to do that? You're a woman-"

Before he could finish, Mia strode over, pulled back the blanket without hesitation, and, with a firm but careful grip, lifted him from the bed.

He was tall and lanky, but she held him against her with surprising ease, lowering him into his wheelchair and tucking a pillow behind his back for comfort.

Henry froze, utterly stunned.

He had endured months of surgeries and felt weaker than he'd ever been. Still, his physique was intact-lean muscle, strong arms, broad shoulders.

And yet... this woman had carried him. A woman who, by all outward appearances, seemed no match for such strength.

His face flushed an intense red-an awkward blend of embarrassment, surprise, and something he couldn't quite name. He stared at her, his eyes trailing her frame in disbelief.

She was barely five-foot-seven, slim in her plain nightwear. Her glasses were outdated and heavy on her delicate face, and her figure barely noticeable under the oversized fabric. Yet, she had carried him like it was nothing.

His pride stung.

His jaw tightened as he growled, "Who said you could touch me like that? What even are you? Some kind of... bodybuilder in disguise? Are you sure you're not a guy pretending to be a woman?"

Mia blinked, stunned speechless by the sheer absurdity of the insult.

He glared at her defiantly, expecting a reaction. But she remained quiet, her expression unreadable.

There was a long silence between them, broken only by the faint creak of the wheelchair as she gently adjusted the footrests.

Henry watched her with a strange expression-part wounded ego, part reluctant curiosity.

For a man used to control, to superiority, being handled with such ease by someone so unassuming-and a woman, no less-was nothing short of infuriating.

But Mia said nothing. She returned to her neutral expression, calm as ever.

That silence did more damage than words.

Henry Carter looked away, his pride scraped raw, his voice dropping as he muttered, "Next time, do what you're told."

Mia nodded quietly, her face unreadable.

Inside, though, her mind was racing. This was only the beginning. If she was going to survive here, she'd have to learn how to weather storms far worse than a bruised male ego.

Especially in a house haunted by the shadow of Nolan Miles.

Once inside, she parked the wheelchair beside the toilet and waited for further instruction.

"Help me up," Henry said flatly.

Recalling his earlier request, Mia tried to help him stand without lifting him entirely. However, the injury to his spine made it nearly impossible for him to bear weight, and despite her best efforts, she couldn't get him settled on the toilet.

Henry grunted, tried again, and then suddenly shoved her backward in frustration.

With a loud thud, Mia's back slammed against the side cabinet. The impact was jarring, and for a moment, the world spun as her vision blurred.

A sharp buzzing filled her ears, and she instinctively reached for the back of her head. Fortunately, there was no blood, but the pain was fierce.

So this is why the last carers didn't last more than a week, she thought with a bitter smile. His temper is something else entirely.

Still, she had no intention of quitting. The pay was solid, and she was saving every cent for college. No matter how difficult he was, she needed this job.

Henry glanced at her from over his shoulder, his eyes cool and calculating. It was as if he were daring her to say the words he'd heard so many times before: "I quit."

But to his surprise, she didn't even flinch. Instead, she got up steadily, using the wall for balance.

Then she returned to him, hoisted him up again-this time more assertively-and finally managed to position him properly.

Humiliated and seething, Henry opened his mouth to lash out again, but Mia beat him to it.

"Mr. Carter," she began in a composed voice, "I've dealt with a number of patients like you. Some have had amputations, some have faced permanent paralysis.

You've suffered a spinal injury, yes, but you're expected to recover. This is temporary.

I understand that you're frustrated, but you can't let anger control how you treat people. And shoving someone while in your condition? That's a real risk-you could make your injury worse."

Her tone was firm but not scolding. Just even enough to make him feel small without screaming.

"Besides," she added with a small, almost teasing smile, "if you keep holding it in, you might end up with a nasty urologic complication. And wouldn't it be awkward explaining that to a urologist?"

The words hit harder than he expected. Her smile wasn't mocking-it was patient, understanding, and oddly disarming.

Henry looked up at her again, this time more closely. She wore oversized black-rimmed glasses that covered nearly half of her face, and her thick bangs cast a shadow over her eyes.

She wasn't beautiful in the conventional sense, but there was something quietly magnetic about her. A centered calmness and an inner strength that piqued his curiosity.

Then suddenly, as if testing her limits, he ordered sharply, "Alright, then take off my pants."