Chapter Three
1031 Words
It had been two hours since the maid left, and she never came back. Part of me was surprised—I thought Clifford would barge into the room, complaining about how I disobeyed his orders.
But I hadn’t heard a word from him. Maybe he wasn’t as intimidating as he thought he was.
I yawned, exhaustion settling in after the stress of the day. Pulling the blanket over me, I closed my eyes and let sleep take over.
The Next Morning
The rays of sunlight streaming through the windows disturbed my sleep, forcing me to wake up. I sat up on the bed, glancing around my new room with a sigh.
Dragging myself out of bed, I decided to explore the house. As I wandered downstairs, I stumbled upon the kitchen.
Perfect timing.
I stepped inside and immediately recognized a familiar face—Tilley, the maid who had led me to my room yesterday.
"Good morning, Tilley," I greeted her warmly, flashing the most cheerful smile I could muster. I needed to make a good impression.
"Oh, good morning, ma’am," she replied with a polite smile. "I was just about to come to your room, but you’ve saved me the trouble."
I frowned slightly, sensing something was up.
"Is something wrong?" I asked, moving toward the fridge to grab a bottle of water.
"Yes, ma’am. Your husband instructed that no one else is to prepare his meals from now on except you," she said.
I paused mid-movement, coughing slightly in disbelief. Thank goodness I hadn’t taken a sip of water yet, or I’d be choking.
"You’ve got to be kidding me. What if I don’t know how to cook? How’s he going to handle that?" I asked, irritation creeping into my tone.
"He said if you don’t prepare his meals, then you’re not allowed to eat either," Tilley replied with an apologetic shrug.
I rolled my eyes. What a fantastic way to start my morning.
Did he bring me here to starve me under the guise of marriage? This man was ridiculous. If he expected me to follow his rules, then he’d better be prepared to abide by mine too.
I uncapped the bottle of water, chugged half of it, and slammed it on the counter before storming out of the kitchen.
Just as I reached the stairs, a voice interrupted me.
"I thought it was a joke when I heard Clifford got married. What a pleasant surprise," a woman said.
I turned to see her standing nearby. She had long, dark hair and a stern expression. She looked to be in her late thirties but was undeniably beautiful.
"Umm... good morning," I replied hesitantly.
You don't need to spare me the greeting. I just don’t understand what Clifford was thinking when he got married to a lowlife like you. There are so many rich and classy ladies he could have chosen from. I would even prefer Marina in this case," she said, and I scoffed inwardly.
Maybe I forgot to mention—she has a rotten character. Who insults someone the moment they meet?
"I'm sorry, but I don’t think I’m the right person you should be telling this to. If you have a problem with me or Clifford’s choice, then keep it to yourself because your opinion doesn’t matter," I replied and walked away, leaving her alone.
Here I was, thinking of being nice to her when she clearly doesn’t deserve it.
I continued wandering through the mansion but still couldn’t find his room. Frustration was kicking in, and I was about to give up and return to my bedroom when I came across the third floor.
There was only one room there, and every instinct told me it might be his.
I knocked twice on the door, and a hoarse voice responded, "Come in."
Nervousness took over as I slowly twisted the door handle. When I stepped inside, there he was, in the middle of putting on his shirt.
He could have told me to wait until he finished dressing, but no. My eyes couldn’t stop staring at his muscular abs.
The way his muscles flexed as he buttoned his shirt had me drooling.
Sh*t! How could God create a man this perfect?
"Are you here to say something, or are you planning to stare at me all day?" his voice broke through my thoughts, and my cheeks instantly reddened in embarrassment.
Quickly folding my arms under my chest, I tried to look serious.
"What was that I heard from Tilley about me making your food? You have so many maids at your beck and call who can do anything for you. Why make me the one to prepare your food?" I asked, trying to sound firm, but he just stared at me.
"I also have to go job hunting today. I didn’t come back to sit around doing nothing. And just so you know, I’m not following any of those ridiculous rules you gave me yesterday!"
Still, he didn’t reply, and his silence was starting to irritate me.
Then, he began taking slow, deliberate strides toward me. I tried to remain firm, not allowing his presence to intimidate me, but it wasn’t working.
"Are you done?" he asked when he was just inches away, and I nodded, gulping.
The proximity was overwhelming. I could smell his intoxicating cologne—rich and alluring. It was the kind of scent that could keep me trapped for an entire day.
"Your father and I have an agreement," he began, his deep voice leaving no room for argument. "How well I keep to my end depends on how well you behave. So, either you follow my rules, or you deal with the repercussions of disobedience."
His tone was final, leaving no room for negotiation.
I opened my mouth, wanting to retort, but the words didn’t come. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I swallowed them down.
Still, I needed to find out what kind of agreement he had with my father.
"This discussion is not over, just so you know," I said, pointing a finger at his face fearlessly before turning and slamming the door behind me.
- Writer
