KEEP HER CLOSE

Unspoken Things

By noon, Louisiana's arms had officially betrayed her.Every muscle screamed. Her shoulders felt like stone, her legs wobbled like boiled yam, and her hands were raw from rubbing glass that never seemed clean enough. “This man must be allergic to comfort,” she muttered under her breath, pressing the damp cloth harder against the glass. “Twenty-four windows, floor-to-ceiling. Who lives in a skyscraper and doesn’t believe in curtains?”

She reached the sixteenth window, stretching up on tiptoes. The mop bucket sloshed behind her. She looked over her shoulder like the devil himself might suddenly walk in with another punishment for breathing too loud.

Louisiana Vale was not the kind of girl who complained. But she was very much the kind of girl who mentally insulted her boss for fun.

She wiped harder. “Tall, dark, and full of himself,” she muttered. “With eyes like hellfire and a heart made of refrigerator ice.”

As if summoned by her insults, a firm voice spoke behind her.

“You’re not using the right cloth.”

She jumped, elbow smacking the glass. The cloth fell.

A woman stood in the doorway short, solid, and unimpressed. Dressed in a neat navy-blue uniform, arms folded like she was about to list someone’s sins.

“I—uh—sorry?” Louisiana said.

“Don’t apologize. Just use the microfiber. You’ll leave streaks with that one.” The woman stepped in and took the cloth from her hand, replacing it with a cleaner, softer one. “This one. Always. Mr. Reign likes to see his reflection in every inch of this place.”

Of course he does, Louisiana thought. He probably flirts with his own reflection.

The woman offered a small smile. “I’m Gladys. Head maid. I’ve been here six years.”

Louisiana tried not to gape. “Six years?”

“No one lasts long with him,” Gladys said plainly. “But I know how to keep my mouth shut, and I don’t care about his money. That helps.”

“Louisiana,” she said softly. “I’m new.”

“I know,” Gladys said, glancing her over. “The girl with the green eyes and angel hair. I heard him describe you to the security team.”

That made her blink. “He described me?”

Gladys didn’t elaborate. Just raised a brow.

Louisiana turned back to the windows and continued cleaning, a little more cautious now. But she could feel the older woman’s eyes on her still.

“You found something, didn’t you?” Gladys said after a long pause.

Louisiana froze. The cloth stilled in her hand.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

Gladys stepped closer. “Yes, you do. You look shaken. Like someone who stepped into a pool and found it deeper than she thought.”

Louisiana swallowed. “I just… found something in the room. That’s all.”

“Then forget it.”

The calmness in her voice held more weight than yelling ever could.

“Forget it?” Louisiana repeated.

“Whatever it was. Pretend you didn’t see it. There are things in this house that don’t need your attention. Some answers come with prices.”

She turned to face the older woman. “You’re warning me?”

“I’m protecting you,” Gladys said, folding her arms tighter. “This house eats soft people alive. You seem… softer than most.”

Louisiana opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps down the hallway interrupted them. Another maid rushed past, phone pressed to her ear, whisper-shouting excitedly.

“I heard the fiancée is coming in three days. Can you imagine? She booked the guest suite herself. Full of designer boxes. Girl looked like a magazine cover.”

Louisiana blinked. “Fiancée?”

Gladys didn’t react. Just sighed.

“She’s coming here? To stay?” Louisiana asked.

“She comes and goes,” Gladys replied. “Likes to show up when she feels dramatic. You’ll know when she’s here. The whole penthouse starts smelling like fake roses and stress.”

That earned a short laugh from Louisiana, but it faded quickly.

Alexander had a fiancée. And yet… no photos. No hint. No sign of her existence in this building until now.

“You didn’t know?” Gladys asked quietly.

Louisiana shook her head, slow and stiff.

“Well,” the older woman said. “Then you’re already in deeper than I thought.”

Louisiana didn’t reply. She turned back to the glass, hand tightening around the cloth. She wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or fear sitting in her chest.

Maybe both.