Chapter 6
2054 Words
The morning after the attack, Miguel Anguer discovered something he disliked even more than being injured.
Being treated like he was injured.
It started at breakfast.
He entered the dining room wearing a black shirt with his left hand carefully wrapped in bandages.
Anya noticed immediately.
She was standing beside the table, arranging the dishes.
Her head tilted slightly.
"Your hand."
Miguel glanced down.
"What about it?"
"You're still injured."
"It's nothing."
"You said that yesterday."
"Because it is nothing."
Anya walked toward him.
"You were punched."
"I've been punched before."
"That doesn't make it healthy."
Miguel sighed.
"I'm fine."
Anya reached for his injured hand.
He instinctively pulled it away.
She frowned.
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
"Liar."
"How would you know?"
"Because you're making that face."
"What face?"
"The face you make when you're pretending something doesn't hurt."
Miguel stared at her.
"I don't make a face."
"You do."
"I don't."
"You do."
Anya smiled.
"You're making it right now."
Miguel looked away.
"You're annoying."
"So I've been told."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Anya reached for his hand again.
This time, he allowed her.
Her fingers gently touched his wrist.
The contact was surprisingly soft.
Miguel became very aware of how close she was.
"Sit down," Anya said.
"I'm not a child."
"Then stop behaving like one."
Miguel stared at her.
She stared back.
Finally, he sat.
Anya smiled triumphantly.
"Good."
Miguel shook his head.
"You're enjoying this."
"A little."
After breakfast, Anya noticed that Miguel's bandage was soaked with blood.
She immediately frowned.
"You're bleeding again."
Miguel looked down.
"It'll stop."
"No."
"Anya."
"You're changing the bandage."
"I'm busy."
"So am I."
"Doing what?"
"Taking care of an idiot."
Miguel raised an eyebrow.
"Is that part of your job description?"
"It is now."
He sighed.
"Fine."
Anya led him toward the sitting room.
Miguel followed.
He could have gone to a doctor.
He could have called his private medical team.
But instead, he allowed his maid to take care of him.
He wasn't sure why.
Perhaps because he liked the way she worried about him.
Perhaps because he liked having her near him.
Perhaps because he had begun looking for excuses to be around her.
He didn't want to admit the last one.
Anya placed the first-aid kit on the table.
"Sit."
Miguel sat.
She opened the kit.
"Give me your hand."
He did.
She carefully removed the old bandage.
Miguel winced.
Anya immediately stopped.
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
"You're making the face again."
"I hate that you can tell."
"I have excellent hearing."
"Apparently you have excellent everything."
Anya smiled.
"Except eyesight."
The smile disappeared slightly.
Miguel noticed.
He had become more sensitive about the subject since learning how much danger she had faced.
He gently said:
"You don't have to joke about it."
"I'm not."
"Sometimes you are."
"Because if I don't joke about it, people start feeling sorry for me."
Miguel was silent.
"I don't feel sorry for you."
Anya looked at him.
"I know."
"I admire you."
Her fingers stopped.
Miguel hadn't intended to say that.
But once the words were out, he couldn't take them back.
Anya slowly continued cleaning his wound.
"Why?"
"Because you're stronger than most people I've met."
She smiled.
"You're becoming sentimental."
"Don't tell anyone."
"Your secret is safe."
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Anya wrapped a fresh bandage around his hand.
"Done."
Miguel looked at it.
"You did that well."
"Thank you."
"How did you learn?"
"I've had practice."
"Where?"
Anya hesitated.
"Different places."
Miguel noticed the hesitation.
He wanted to ask.
But he didn't.
Not yet.
Instead, he said:
"You're full of secrets."
"So are you."
"I'm an open book."
Anya laughed.
"You're the worst liar I've ever met."
Miguel smiled.
"You think you know me?"
"I know enough."
"What do you know?"
"You're arrogant."
"True."
"Stubborn."
"Also true."
"Impatient."
"Occasionally."
"Demanding."
"Necessary."
Anya shook her head.
"And secretly kind."
Miguel's smile faded.
"I'm not kind."
"You protected me."
"Anyone would have."
"No."
Anya looked at him.
"Not everyone would."
Miguel didn't answer.
She continued:
"You could have stayed away."
"I couldn't."
"Why?"
Miguel looked at her.
He had no answer.
Or perhaps he had one.
He simply wasn't ready to say it.
That afternoon, Miguel tried to work.
Anya had ordered him to rest.
He ignored her.
She found him in the study.
"You're working."
"Yes."
"I told you to rest."
"I have a company to run."
"You have a brain to protect."
"My brain is fine."
"Your hand isn't."
Miguel looked at her.
"It's just a hand."
"It's your hand."
"Exactly."
She sighed.
"You are impossible."
"And yet you keep coming back."
Anya paused.
Miguel smiled.
"Got you."
She rolled her eyes.
"I should charge you extra for emotional damage."
"You already got a raise."
"Then I'll negotiate another."
Miguel laughed.
"You're greedy."
"No."
She leaned closer.
"I'm properly compensated."
He looked at her.
"You're becoming confident."
"I learned from the best."
"Unfortunately."
Anya smiled.
Then she turned toward the desk.
She noticed several files.
"What's this?"
Miguel's expression changed.
"Company reports."
"Anything important?"
"Everything is important."
"That's why you're stressed."
"I'm not stressed."
Anya reached toward the papers.
Miguel stopped her.
"Don't."
His voice was suddenly serious.
Anya froze.
"Sorry."
He released her wrist.
"I didn't mean to."
"I know."
Their fingers remained close.
Neither moved.
Then Miguel slowly released her hand.
Something had changed.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Quieter.
That evening, rain began falling outside.
Anya was preparing tea in the kitchen when she heard Miguel call her.
"Anya."
She walked into the study.
"What happened?"
"I need help."
"With what?"
He held up his injured hand.
"I can't open this."
She walked toward him.
He handed her a small medicine bottle.
"You're helpless."
"I am not."
"You can't even open a bottle."
"My hand is injured."
"Excuses."
She opened the bottle.
Then handed it back.
Miguel smiled.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She turned to leave.
"Wait."
Anya stopped.
"What?"
"Stay."
She turned toward him.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
The honesty surprised both of them.
Miguel looked away.
Anya slowly sat in the chair opposite him.
For several minutes, they simply listened to the rain.
Then Miguel spoke.
"Do you ever wish you could see again?"
Anya's smile disappeared.
"Every day."
Miguel looked at her.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
"Do you remember what things looked like?"
"Some."
"Me?"
Anya laughed softly.
"I've known you for weeks."
"Still."
She tilted her head.
"I remember your voice."
"What does it tell you?"
"That you're arrogant."
Miguel laughed.
"Anything else?"
"That you're lonely."
His smile disappeared.
Anya continued.
"You pretend you don't need anyone."
Miguel looked at the rain.
"Maybe I don't."
"You do."
"How would you know?"
"Because I can hear it."
He looked at her.
"You're strange."
"So are you."
The rain became heavier.
Thunder shook the windows.
The lights flickered.
Anya stood.
"I'll check the generator."
Miguel stood as well.
"No."
"I know where it is."
"I'm coming."
"You shouldn't."
"I'll be fine."
"Your hand—"
"Is fine."
Anya sighed.
"Stubborn."
"Blind."
She froze.
Miguel immediately regretted the word.
"I'm sorry."
Anya smiled.
"It's okay."
They walked toward the basement.
Halfway there, the lights went out.
Everything became dark.
Anya stopped.
Miguel immediately reached for her hand.
"I'm here."
She felt his fingers close around hers.
"I know."
They continued.
But in the darkness, they moved slowly.
Anya's foot caught the edge of a step.
Miguel grabbed her waist.
She gasped.
He pulled her toward him.
For a moment, she was pressed against his chest.
His arm remained around her.
Neither moved.
Anya could hear his heartbeat.
Fast.
Very fast.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"You almost fell."
"I know."
His hand remained at her waist.
Anya could feel his breath against her hair.
She slowly raised her face toward him.
Miguel looked down.
Even though she couldn't see his expression, she could feel the intensity of his gaze.
Neither spoke.
Then Miguel whispered:
"You know, Anya..."
"Yes?"
"You're dangerous."
She laughed softly.
"Because I'm blind?"
"No."
His gaze dropped toward her lips.
"Because I forget how to breathe when you're near me."
Anya stopped breathing.
For once, she had no clever response.
Miguel slowly leaned closer.
His forehead almost touched hers.
Anya's fingers tightened around his shirt.
"Miguel..."
"Yes?"
"I think you're standing too close."
"I know."
"Then move."
"I don't want to."
Her heart raced.
He leaned closer.
Their faces were only inches apart.
Anya could feel his breath.
Warm.
Close.
Familiar.
She didn't move away.
Neither did he.
Miguel whispered her name.
"Anya."
She tilted her face upward.
Their lips were almost touching.
Almost.
Then—
"MR. ANGUER!"
A voice echoed from the hallway.
They jumped apart.
The lights suddenly came back on.
A young servant stood at the end of the corridor holding a flashlight.
He stared at Miguel.
Then at Anya.
Then at the very obvious fact that they had been standing extremely close together.
"Uh..."
Miguel immediately straightened.
"We were checking the generator."
The servant nodded quickly.
"Of course, sir."
Anya covered her mouth.
She was trying not to laugh.
Miguel glared at the servant.
"Is there something you need?"
"No, sir."
"Then go."
"Yes, sir."
The servant disappeared.
Silence returned.
Anya finally laughed.
Miguel looked embarrassed.
"What's funny?"
"Nothing."
"You are laughing."
"I know."
"You almost kissed me."
Anya stopped laughing.
"So did you."
Miguel's ears turned slightly red.
"I was checking if you were all right."
"With your lips?"
He stared at her.
She smiled.
"You're blushing."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm going upstairs."
Anya laughed again.
"Good night, Mr. Anguer."
He walked away.
Then stopped.
Without turning around, he said:
"Good night, Anya."
She listened to his footsteps disappear.
Then she touched her lips.
She could still feel how close he had been.
Her heart was still racing.
For the first time since she had entered the Anguer mansion, Anya was afraid.
Not of the enemy.
Not of the investigation.
Not of being discovered.
She was afraid of her own feelings.
Because she had almost kissed Miguel.
And worse...
She had wanted to.
That night, Miguel lay awake.
He stared at the ceiling.
He couldn't stop thinking about Anya.
The way she had looked at him.
The way her fingers had held his shirt.
The way she had stayed when he told her to move.
He touched his lips.
"Idiot."
He had almost kissed his maid.
His blind maid.
The woman who had somehow become the most important person in his daily life.
He turned over.
He tried to sleep.
He couldn't.
Meanwhile, in her room, Anya sat beside the window.
She removed her dark glasses.
The faint outline of the moon was barely visible through the glass.
Her eyesight had been deteriorating for years.
But recently, there had been something different.
A tiny flicker of light.
A blurry shape.
She wondered if her vision might someday return.
And if it did...
Would Miguel still look at her the same way?
She touched her lips.
She knew the answer she was afraid of.
She wanted him.
Not because he was rich.
Not because he was powerful.
Not because he had protected her.
But because beneath all his arrogance, she had discovered a lonely man with a kind heart.
A man who made her laugh.
A man who trusted her.
A man who had almost kissed her.
And perhaps the most dangerous part of all...
She was beginning to fall in love with him.
But neither of them knew that the interrupted kiss had been witnessed by someone else.
Someone standing at the far end of the corridor.
Someone who had seen everything.
And that person immediately reached for their phone.
"He's getting too close to her."
A pause.
Then a quiet reply came through the phone.
"Then we need to separate them."
The call ended.
And somewhere in the darkness of the mansion, another secret began to move.
Because the first almost kiss had changed everything.
Miguel could no longer pretend Anya was merely his maid.
And Anya could no longer pretend Miguel was merely her employer.
Their hearts had Picqueed a line their minds were still afraid to admit.
And whoever was watching them had just found their greatest weakness.
Each other.
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