Chapter 7 The Cat's Bargain

Without warning, the heavens opened up and rain came down in sheets, drenching me within seconds.

"Shit!" I gasped, my white sundress instantly plastered to my body.

I spun around, searching frantically for shelter as the downpour intensified. The gazebo where Blake and I had been sitting was too far away now. Another flash of lightning illuminated a winding stone path ahead, and I ran toward what looked like a covered patio in the distance.

My sandals slapped against the wet stones as I sprinted forward, one hand futilely shielding my eyes from the deluge. The warm summer rain had already soaked through to my skin, making my dress nearly transparent.

That's when I heard it—a desperate, high-pitched wailing that cut through the storm's roar. I paused, straining to locate the source. There, by an ornate arched doorway set into a stone wall: an orange tabby cat pacing anxiously, pawing at the door while making heartbreaking sounds of distress.

"Hey there," I called softly, approaching the drenched animal. "You're stuck in this mess too, huh?"

The cat looked at me with desperate yellow eyes, then returned to scratching frantically at the door gap. From inside, I could hear the faint mewling of kittens.

"Are those your babies in there?" My heart instantly melted.

The tabby meowed more urgently, as if confirming my suspicion.

I hesitated, suddenly remembering Blake's warning: "That's the West Wing. My uncle Ethan's place. We'd better keep our distance." But the cat's pitiful cries tugged at something inside me. I couldn't just walk away.

"Okay, I'll help you find your babies," I whispered, scooping up the soaking wet cat. "Then we're getting out of here, I promise."

The heavy wooden door creaked as I pushed against it with my shoulder. It swung open surprisingly easily, and I stepped into what appeared to be a private courtyard. Spanish-style architecture surrounded a central fountain, with meticulously maintained flowerbeds lining cobblestone paths.

Following the increasingly loud kitten cries, I crept forward, the mother cat wiggling impatiently in my arms. We passed through a columned walkway into a larger interior courtyard. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls revealed glimpses of a stunning minimalist living room beyond—sleek furniture, abstract paintings, and a massive stone fireplace.

"Hello?" I called out tentatively. My voice echoed in the empty space. "Is anyone here?"

No response came except for the more insistent mewling of kittens from somewhere inside. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the glass door and stepped into the house.

The living room was even more impressive up close—soaring ceilings, a wall of windows showcasing the storm outside, and that enormous fireplace with a fire crackling despite the summer weather. The soft glow illuminated Italian leather furniture and what looked like original artwork on the walls.

Then I heard it—a soft mechanical whirring coming from a darkened corner.

A wheelchair slowly rotated toward me. The man sitting in it wore a black button-down shirt, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal muscular forearms. Despite being seated, everything about him radiated power—broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and piercing gray eyes that seemed to look straight through me.

I froze. This had to be Ethan Bennett.

More shocking than his sudden appearance were the three tiny orange kittens curled up on his lap. The mother cat in my arms immediately began meowing frantically, straining toward him.

My throat went dry as those intense eyes examined me from head to toe. I became acutely aware of my rain-soaked appearance—wet hair plastered to my face, transparent dress clinging to every curve.

"I—I'm sorry to intrude," I stammered. "This cat was outside your door crying, and I heard kittens inside. I think... I think those might be her babies?"

Ethan's expression remained impassive, but his eyes never left mine. "And how exactly would you know they're hers?" His voice was deep, almost hypnotic in its controlled smoothness.

I swallowed hard. "She was scratching at your door, crying. Now she's getting even more upset seeing the kittens in your lap. They must be hers."

After what felt like an eternity of scrutiny, Ethan picked up one of the kittens and placed it on the floor. I carefully set down the mother cat, who immediately rushed to her baby, nudging it with her nose and beginning to groom it. But she continued meowing plaintively toward the other two kittens still in Ethan's possession.

"It seems the other two are also hers," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Could you... would you mind giving them back too?"

Ethan released another kitten without comment. The mother quickly gathered this one alongside the first, but her distressed cries didn't stop.

"The last one too, please?" I asked, attempting a polite smile.

His long fingers stroked the remaining kitten's fur. "This one stays with me."

"But that's not fair—she needs her mother."

"Life rarely is fair, Miss...?"

"Olivia. Olivia Reed," I replied automatically.

"Life rarely is fair, Miss Reed." His eyes glinted. "This kitten amuses me. I'm keeping it."

"What if you keep the mother cat too?" I suggested desperately. "Then they could stay together, and you'd have company."

"Too noisy. One is sufficient."

"I could find you another cat—"

"I want this one," he cut me off. "We've bonded."

The mother cat's cries grew more frantic. I wrung my hands, searching for a solution.

"I might consider returning it," Ethan said suddenly, his voice deceptively casual. "But I have one condition."

Hope flickered. "What condition?"

His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You stay instead, and keep me company."

My smile froze. "I... what?"

Panic flooded through me. I took a step backward, then another. "I should go."

As I turned to flee, he moved with shocking speed for someone in a wheelchair, intercepting my path and catching my wrist. With one swift motion, he pulled me onto his lap.

I landed awkwardly against his chest, his arm securing me firmly around the waist. My heart hammered against my ribs as I found myself face-to-face with him, close enough to feel his breath.

"Already blushing?" he murmured, amusement in his tone.

I struggled weakly. "Please let me go. I'm sorry I came in without permission."

Just then, my phone rang. The screen flashed Blake's name like a lifeline.

Ethan's gaze dropped to my soaked dress. "Don't make a habit of wandering into strangers' homes in transparent clothing," he said, releasing his grip. "Not everyone would be as restrained as I am." Then he let me go.