Chapter 3 A new government

Nyx’s p.o.v

His lips curled only just a little as his eyes locked on mine. My heart hammered repeatedly in my chest. As he arched his brow, then his eyes swept over me slowly, something about it made heat crawl up my neck.

God, he was beautiful. The kind of fine that didn’t belong in this house or any mortal place, for that matter. Everything about him demanded attention. The quiet dominance in his stance, the faint roughness of his voice when he finally spoke. Even the way his shirt clung to him like it had been made for his body alone.

His hair was thick and dark, pulled into a loose bun that somehow made him look even more dangerous. The faint scruff on his jaw only added to it like he hadn’t bothered to shave because he didn’t have to impress anyone. And yet, here I was, fighting for breath.

He knew. I could feel it in the way his gaze lingered, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. He knew exactly who I was,what had happened and it terrified me that he didn’t look guilty.

If anything… he looked amused.

The silence between us stretched tight until it felt like the air might shatter. Then he broke it, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushing over bare skin.

“Good,” he said, glancing briefly at my mother before his eyes came back to me. “Now you’re here.”

That was the only acknowledgement I got from him.

Before I could respond, Kent walked in. His expression darkened the second he saw Travis. The scowl on his face was unmistakable the same one he wore whenever something didn’t sit right with him.

Travis’s mouth twitched again, like he found the tension entertaining. “You all should come to the living room,” he said simply, his tone firm but calm a command wrapped in civility. “We need to talk.”

He turned and led the way, not waiting to see if we’d follow. The confidence in his stride made my stomach tighten.

Kent moved closer to me, his jaw set. “Who the hell is that?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes never leaving Travis’s back.

“Uncle,” I whispered, the word tasting wrong on my tongue.

Kent frowned. “Since when do you have an uncle?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My pulse still hadn’t slowed. I followed them into the living room, each step heavier than the last.

Travis stood by the window, hands in his pockets, looking perfectly at ease like he owned the place already. The evening sun streamed through the glass, outlining him in gold. His blue eyes flicked to me again, sharp, deliberate.

Mom took her space on the couch, her earlier excitement seemed to have dissipated, now replaced with nerves. Kent on the other hand leaned on the wall while I sat on the side table.

“You might want to sit down boy,” Travis's hoarse voice rang out as he looked at Kent.

Oh no. Kent hates being called a boy.

I looked over at Kent, noticing the small tightening of his hand and the clenching of his jaw. But surprisingly he said, “I'm fine here,”

Travis shrugged, as he folded his hand in front of him, his eyes flickering between Mom's and Kent's but never to mine.

“I'm sure you all now know I'm Ethan's brother, Travis.” He began. “I've been away for a while but I'm back now.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Kent barked, pushing off the wall and staring him down.

Travis’ lips curled in a ghost of a smile but it never fully developed. “It simply means, I'm here to claim my inheritance.”

I heard my mother gasp like she had been expecting him to say otherwise. “He continues, that includes this house and the underground club,”

Kent’s jaw flexed, the muscle ticking in irritation. “You can’t just walk in here and claim everything like you own the place,” he snapped, stepping forward, his voice thick with anger. “Ethan built this from scratch. You disappeared for years,now you show up and think you can take over?”

Travis didn’t even look at him. He might as well have been talking to the wall. The way Travis stood there, calm and unbothered, made Kent’s fury burn hotter. His silence was an insult in itself.

“Travis,” my mother’s voice broke through the tension, soft and trembling. “Are you… are you going to send us away?”

Her hands clutched the edge of her dress, knuckles pale. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker across his face something almost human but it vanished before I could name it.

He finally turned his gaze to her. “Only if you refuse to work,” he said simply. “The bar could use familiar faces. Staff that already know the system.”

My stomach dropped. Work?

I didn’t want to work at that place. I loved the art house…its quiet, its colors, its stillness. The club was the opposite loud, dark, alive. The thought of being forced into that chaos made my chest tighten.

Kent barked out a humorless laugh. “Work? I’m the manager there. You can’t just turn me into some damn waiter.”

Travis’s lips curved barely. “Who said you’re going to be a waiter?”

Kent opened his mouth again, but Travis cut him off with a flick of his hand, his tone turning colder. “Monday. You all report to me in the office. I’ll assign your positions then.” He looked around, his presence heavy, suffocating. “Or,” he added, voice dropping lower, “you can pack your things and leave. Your choice.”

The room went dead silent. I could hear the soft ticking of the clock behind me and the faint creak of the old wooden floor under Kent’s shifting weight.

Without another word, Travis turned, heading down the hall toward Ethan’s old office…his office now. The sound of his shoes against the floor echoed like a verdict being passed.

But just before he disappeared behind the corner, he stopped. Slowly, he turned his head, and for the first time since his announcement, his eyes locked on me.

“You,” he said, voice low but sharp enough to slice through the air. “Come with me.”

My breath caught.

Every instinct screamed don’t move, but my legs betrayed me, pushing me up from the table as his gaze held me captive.

Kent’s hand brushed my wrist as if to stop me, but I shook my head faintly.

I followed him down the hall, he entered the office before I could reach him outside the door, my heart hammered so hard in my chest, it felt like I was about to go into panic.

What would he say?

Would he remind me about last night?

Oh God. This would be awkward.

“Are you done deciding if you should come in,” his voice rang out from the other end of the door. Prompting me to open the door and slip in.

He was half sitting,half standing at the edge of the desk. His hand folded before him. His muscles bulge out by the move. His eyes oh they are my undoing and those fingers,the same one which had brought me unexplainable pleasure. My gaze lowered,shame clouding my senses. I was attracted even after finding out he's my uncle.

We stood in silence like things for a minute before he said. “You didn't object to anything I said?” It was a question.

I shrugged. The will power to speak was still not building up.

“Why?you don't have anything to say?” He pressed.

I was used to keeping quiet when Mom, Kent and Ethan plan for the household. Kent always says ‘you have no choice but to do this Nyx

I shook my head and he pushed off the desk,I heard his footsteps approach. My breath quickened.

He stopped only a few steps away from me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. My pulse jumped wildly in my throat, every instinct telling me to take a step back, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.

Travis’s voice was a low hum when he spoke, his breath ghosting over the side of my neck.

“Look at me, Nyx.”

I swallowed hard. My fingers twisted against my skirt, but I did as he said, slowly lifting my gaze until it met his. The blue in his eyes looked darker now sharp, dangerous, deliberate. There was no warmth there, only quiet command.

“Good,” he murmured. “When I speak to you, you don’t look away. You listen. You see me. You answer.”

Something inside me shivered as I nodded. He tsk lightly with his tongue as he starts rounding me up. Then he stopped at my back, his heat melting into me.

I resisted the urge to lean backwards and rest on his broad shoulder. “Words,little cat, words” there goes the nickname. The one he called me yesterday when his fingers were ramming into me continuously.

“You had a lot to say last night when my fingers were inside you. Now you're a mute,” I gasp lightly. Not expecting him to talk so dirty to his step niece.

“Umm…ummm,” I tried to find my words, my cheek flushing in embarrassment.

“That's more like it,” he said, walking back to his desk and resuming his position like he didn't just affect my senses with just a sentence. “Tell me why you didn't say anything during that meeting?”

But I know I needed to talk, say anything before he comes closer to me again. “Nothing. I just…I just,” I stammered, my tone laced with uncertainty. What could I say?

“Go on,” he urged.

An idea hit me.

“Just that, the company I work for, have a notice period.” A lie by the way. I seem to be doing that more often.

“Interesting,” he hummed. “For how long?”

“Two months,”

Silence.

“You may leave,” he said abruptly, his eyes, pressed on mine wanting me to object him. A silent challenge.

But I didn't. I don't challenge.

“Okay,”

With that, I grabbed the door handle, I saw his hand dropped at my hand on the door but I didn't stick around to hear his thoughts on why I was using a left hand to open the door.

He might laugh at me like the others or even force me to use my right hand.

Now out in the hallway, I leaned on the wall.

I've committed a sin.

Not just any sin but a treacherous one.

I was fingered by my own step uncle. Uhhh.

No, I must seek forgiveness from God tonight.