Chapter 3 Be mine

I did not sleep that night.

I lay on the small bed in the staff quarters staring at the ceiling, the silver necklace box still under my pillow. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. The older one. The cold eyes. The way he said, "We have met."

He knew. He knew I was the girl from the penthouse. And he hated me for being in his house.

Or did he hate me because I was close to his brother?

At midnight, I heard footsteps outside my window. I held my breath. The footsteps stopped near my room. Someone was standing there. I could see a shadow under the door.

My heart pounded. I did not move.

After a long minute, the shadow left.

I finally slept at 3 a.m.

In the morning, the head housekeeper woke me at 6 a.m.

"New duty for you. Master wants to see you in his private study at 7 a.m. Don't be late. He does not like waiting."

"Master? Which master?" There were two.

"The older one," she said, as if reading my mind. "Don't keep him waiting."

At 6:55 a.m., I stood outside his private study. The door was massive and dark. I knocked lightly.

"Come in."

I pushed the door. The study was dark and smelled of wood and cologne. Books everywhere. A big desk. And behind the desk, him.

He was in a black suit again, reading a file. He did not look up immediately. He let me stand there for almost a minute. The silence was heavy.

"You called me?" I whispered.

He finally looked up. His blue eyes were colder than yesterday. He leaned back in his chair and studied me slowly, from my face to my old shoes.

"You lied on your application," he said calmly.

"What? I did not."

"You said you had no relationship with anyone in this house. But you clearly know my brother."

"I only knew him from college," I said quickly. "We were not close. I did not know this was his house. I swear."

He stood up and walked around the desk. He walked towards me slowly, hands in pockets, like a predator. I stepped back until my back touched the door.

"You think I believe you?" he asked, his voice low. "You appear in my hotel. Then one week later, you appear in my house as a maid, close to my brother. What do you want? Money?"

"No!" I said, tears coming to my eyes. "I just needed a job. The agency sent me. I did not know."

He stopped right in front of me. So close I could smell his cologne. He looked down at me, his jaw tight.

"Take off the necklace," he said suddenly.

"What necklace?"

"The one my brother gave you. Take it off."

I touched my neck instinctively. I was not wearing it. It was under my pillow.

"I am not wearing it," I said.

"Good. Never wear it. Never accept gifts from him. Do you understand?"

"Why? Why do you care?"

His eyes flashed. "Because you are living under my roof. Because you work for me. And because..." He paused, his eyes dropping to my lips for a second. "Because I said so."

That was not a reason, but my heart was beating so fast I could not argue.

He noticed my fear. His expression softened slightly, but only slightly.

"Liam is innocent," he said in a lower voice. "He falls in love quickly. He does not know what you are. What you did."

The words hit me like a slap. What you did. He meant the night in the penthouse.

I looked down, ashamed. "I am not a bad person," I whispered. "I was desperate."

"I know," he said, and his voice was surprisingly soft for a moment. He lifted my chin with one finger, forcing me to look at him. "I know you were desperate. I saw your eyes that night. You were scared."

His touch was warm. His eyes were no longer ice. They were conflicted, as if he was fighting with himself.

Then, as quickly as it came, the softness was gone. He dropped his hand.

"Liam cannot have you," he said coldly. "He is too good for this game."

"So what do you want me to do? Leave? I will leave if you want."

"No," he said immediately. Too quickly.

I looked at him, confused.

He walked back to his desk and picked up a paper. He held it out to me.

"New contract. You will no longer be a housekeeper. You will be my private chef. You will cook only for me. You will live in the room next to the kitchen, not the staff quarters. You will be available whenever I call you. Salary is triple."

I stared at the paper. "Private chef? But I don't know how to cook fancy food. I only know basic cooking."

"You will learn," he said. "I will teach you."

"Why are you doing this?"

He looked at me for a long time. His eyes were intense and possessive.

"Because I don't want you near my brother," he said finally. "Because if you are my private chef, you belong to me. You stay close to me. You cook for me. You don't smile at him. You don't talk to him. You are mine to watch."

Mine to watch. The words made my knees weak. It was wrong. It was possessive. But a part of me, a part I hated, liked hearing it.

"And if I say no?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"Then you leave this mansion today and I will tell the agency you are a liar and you will never get a job in this city again."

It was a threat. But also a promise. Stay and be his. Leave and lose everything.

What choice did I have?

I took the paper with shaking hands. "Where do I sign?"

He smiled for the first time. Not a kind smile. A victorious smile. The smile of a man who just won something he wanted.

"Smart girl," he said. He came close again and took the pen from my hand. His fingers brushed mine. He leaned down, his lips close to my ear.

"Sign here. And remember, from today, you don't belong to anyone else. Not even Liam."

I signed.

As I wrote my name, I felt his eyes on me, burning. I did not know if I had just saved myself or sold myself again.

But when I looked up, his younger brother was standing at the study doorway, watching us. His face was pale. He had heard everything. His eyes were on my hand holding the pen, and on his brother standing too close to me.

The door was open. He saw everything.

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