Chapter 19
1102 Words
Geraldine’s Point of View
I swallowed hard, my gaze locked on him. Of all the missions I had taken in my life as an agent, this was the only one that had turned into something unpredictable—something that felt real. For the first time, I wasn’t just pretending. I was actually married to my subject. Married, and only now realizing the truth.
Yes, I had been married before, at least in appearance, but never with a contract—never with my real name and my true signature. Yet here it was. My name, written clearly on paper I couldn’t deny. My handwriting, my mark.
How did it come to this? Why had I gotten drunk that night? I could usually hold my liquor, but the drinks had been strong and my guard had been down. Fate had played a cruel game on me. God, I never imagined this would happen.
Think positive, Gerry. Just think positive.
“Master,” I started, forcing the words through my lips, “I didn’t mean anything else by it. I only wanted money, but not from someone like me—someone who was struggling too. I thought your company was bankrupt, that’s why I didn’t take the money you offered. I thought you might need it more. I’m really sorry.”
But the look on his face told me he wasn’t buying it. He wanted more from me.
I scrambled for another excuse. “I left that morning because of a family emergency. I had to be gone for a month to take care of them in the mountains. When we had nothing left to eat, I finally came down again.”
I summoned every bit of acting skill I had—my best performance, one that could win awards if this were a film.
“I applied here because they said the pay was good, even though people also whispered about how frightening it was to work here. I gathered my courage for my family’s sake. Please forgive me. Don’t throw me out of your mansion.”
But he only stared at me, those eyes cutting deep as though they could read everything inside me. I had nothing left but one desperate thought.
“If you can’t forgive me,” I whispered, “then divorce me. That way neither of us is tied down. You can marry the woman you really want.”
The line of his brow tightened, his eyes narrowing in anger. Oh no. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say.
“What do you think marriage is? Do you think it’s a joke?”
His voice shook me. My heart skipped. Don’t tell me… he was serious about that wedding?
“It was just an act,” I insisted weakly. “That’s what I told you, didn’t I?”
He stepped closer, every movement deliberate. My breath caught.
“So you would rather stay a maid in my house than be my wife?”
My eyes widened. That question hit harder than I expected. I swallowed again, remembering the warning never to reveal too much, never to let him think I wanted him, or else I’d risk losing my place here.
“Yes,” I said firmly, “I’d rather stay a maid. I want to earn money the right way, money I work for, not money given to me.”
He chuckled lowly, a sound that carried a dangerous edge. “Oh really? Then how about this—I’ll keep you as a maid, but with another job. You’ll also be my wife. I’ll pay you whatever amount you want.”
I froze. That… might actually work. Money from the agency and from him. A win-win deal, right?
“Alright,” I said carefully, “deal. But no one should know about this marriage. Not a single person.”
“You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Fine.”
I let out a shaky breath. I had no choice.
“If you’re feeling better, you can leave the room,” he said, standing.
He turned as if to walk away, but suddenly spun back and caught me off guard. In one swift motion, his lips pressed against mine. My eyes widened, my hands pushing against his chest, but he was too strong. The kiss deepened, pulling away all the energy I had left until I melted back against the bed.
When he finally broke the kiss, I gasped, trembling.
“You responded,” he whispered with quiet triumph.
“M-Master…”
He left before I could say more. I stayed frozen, stunned, my fingertips lifting to touch my lips. His warmth still lingered there.
He kissed me again.
Shaking myself, I tried to rise, but then saw the food he had left on the table. My stomach growled. Dinner. I hadn’t even cooked for him yet. I ate quickly, ignoring the dull ache in my injured leg. As soon as I finished, I carried the tray out of the room.
Walking down the hall, the hem of my maid’s dress brushed against my bandaged leg, making me wince. I slowed my steps, careful not to stain it with blood. My eyes caught the long staircase ahead, towering and empty.
Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, I sat at the top step, braced myself, and slid down like a child. At the last second, pain shot through my leg as I landed.
“Damn it,” I muttered, wincing.
I nearly fell sideways when strong arms caught me. Startled, I looked up—and for a moment, it felt like I was staring at an angel.
“Are you alright?” he asked gently, helping me to my feet. His touch was steady, his eyes soft, and I couldn’t help but smile at him through the pain.
Damn. He was exactly my type—calm, kind, like an angel come to earth.
“What’s your name?” I asked, curiosity and a flicker of attraction slipping through.
Surprised, he smiled again, and it lit up his face. “I’m Rafayel. You must be new here. I’m Michael’s best friend. And you are…?”
Michael’s best friend? Of all the people to meet, it had to be him. I bit my lip and started to answer. “I’m Ger—”
“Ehem!”
The sound cut sharp through the air. Both of us turned toward the top of the stairs.
Michael stood there, glaring down at us, his eyes like daggers especially when they fell on our joined hands.
Waaa… talk about bad timing.
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