The morning light filled the mansion kitchen. The smell of fresh bread and spices hung in the air as the staff worked quietly. Pots clinked, water ran, and voices were low.
Elena stood by the counter, slicing vegetables. She liked working here. The kitchen was big, clean, and always busy. It kept her mind quiet.
She was lost in thought when the soft sound of footsteps made her look up. Lucian stood near the doorway, his hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on her. The black shirt he wore made him look colder, sharper.
“Can we talk?” he asked. His tone was calm but heavy, the kind that made people stop what they were doing.
Elena blinked and wiped her hands with a towel. “Yes, sir.”
“I told you to call me Lucian,” he said.
She nodded lightly. “Yes… Lucian.”
He moved closer until he stood
