Employing His Heart.

Episode 1: The Intruder in the Rose Garden ​ The morning sun always hit the grand staircase of the Vance manor with a blinding, pristine perfection. Kira adjusted the silk cuffs of her cream blouse, her heels clicking a rhythmic, demanding beat against the polished marble as she descended. ​Today was supposed to be a standard, quiet Tuesday. Her father was away on business, leaving her with the suffocating silence of the massive house. Seeking a distraction, she headed toward the glass doors of the conservatory that led out to the western gardens. ​As she stepped onto the stone terrace, the sharp, metallic snip-snip of shears cut through the quiet morning air. ​Kira paused, her brow furrowing. Her father’s usual gardener, Mr. Abernathy, was a frail, soft-spoken man in his late sixties who moved with the patience of a snail. This sound was aggressive, fast, and coming from the prize-winning English rose bushes—her father’s absolute pride and joy. ​She walked down the stone steps, ready to dismiss whoever was tampering with the landscaping, but the words caught in her throat. ​Standing by the high stone wall was a stranger. ​He was trimming the overgrown branches of the white roses, and he certainly wasn't sixty. He was older than her—perhaps late twenties—with a mature, grounded presence that made the manicured garden suddenly feel a bit too small. He wore a faded, dark green t-shirt that clung to a broad frame built from actual, grueling labor, not a luxury gym. His jawline was sharp, shadowed by a few days of dark stubble, and a stray lock of thick, wavy hair fell across his forehead as he worked, glistening slightly with sweat. ​For a second, Kira just stared. He was devastatingly handsome in a raw, unbothered way that felt completely out of place on her family’s manicured estate. ​Then, she saw what he was doing. ​Snip. A massive, perfectly healthy bud fell into the dirt. ​Kira snapped out of her daze, her temper flaring. "What do you think you are doing?" she demanded, crossing her arms as she marched over. ​The man didn't startle. He slowly lowered the shears, turning his head to look at her. His eyes were a piercing, cool hazel, and they swept over her—from her pristine silk blouse down to her expensive designer shoes—with an expression that bordered on amusement. ​"Trimming the roses," he said. His voice was a deep, low gravel that sent an annoying shiver down her spine. ​"I can see that," Kira said, her voice dripping with ice. "What I mean is, who authorized you to butcher them? Those are imported. My father has an exact science for this garden, and Mr. Abernathy knows better than to let a... a stranger hack away at them." ​The man wiped his brow with the back of his gloved hand, completely unfazed by her tone. "Abernathy’s back threw out yesterday. Your father hired my company last night to take over the estate's grounds. I'm Kaelen." ​He extended a gloved hand toward her. Kira looked down at the dark soil smudged across the leather, then looked back up at his face, keeping her hands firmly at her sides. ​Kaelen let out a short, dry chuckle, pulling his hand back. "Right. No shaking hands with the help. My bad." ​"It’s not about that," Kira lied, her cheeks flushing slightly at being called out. "It’s about competence. You just cut off a prize bloom." She pointed sharply to the dirt. ​Kaelen looked down at the fallen rose, then back at her. A slow, infuriating smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "It had a fungal blight starting on the lower stem, princess. If I left it, the whole bush would be dead by next week. I’m saving your father’s investment. You’re welcome, by the way." ​Princess. ​The casual mockery in his tone made Kira’s blood boil. No one in this house, let alone an employee, spoke to her with that much casual arrogance. He was looking at her like she was a spoiled child throwing a tantrum in a sandbox he owned. ​"Do not call me that," she said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You work for my father, which means you respect this house. I want a different gardener on this property by tomorrow morning, or I'll have my father terminate your contract entirely." ​Kaelen didn't flinch. In fact, he took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Because of his height, Kira had to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. Up close, he smelled like damp earth, cedarwood, and clean sweat. It was overwhelming. ​"You can call your dad right now," Kaelen said softly, his hazel eyes locking onto hers with absolute confidence. "But he knows I’m the best in the district, and he cares more about his roses than your bruised pride. So, if you'll excuse me..." ​He turned his back on her, picked up his shears, and went right back to work, completely dismissing her presence. ​Kira stood there, her hands clenched into fists, her chest heaving with a mixture of rage and a strange, confusing adrenaline. She had never hated anyone so quickly in her entire life. ​Turning on her heel, she stormed back toward the manor, mentally swearing that she would find a way to get Kaelen fired before the week was over.