Bound to the Billionaire: A Love that Cannot Be

CHAPTER TWO

“I assume you are Miranda,” the woman said calmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Miranda replied quickly, straightening her posture.

The woman’s lips curved into a polite smile. “I am Mrs. Reese. I am the housekeeper here—and the one you will be reporting to.” Her voice was firm but not unkind, seasoned with years of command. “Mrs. Alicia wrote to me about you.”

Relief flickered across Miranda’s face at the mention of her aunt. “How is she?” Mrs. Reese asked as she motioned for Miranda to follow her inside. “She has been my colleague and my friend for many years. The house is… noticeably quieter without her.”

“She’s healing,” Miranda answered as they stepped into the cool, expansive foyer. Marble floors gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers, and the air carried a faint scent of lemon polish and something floral. “The doctors say she’ll need time, but she’s in good spirits. She hates being idle.”

Mrs. Reese nodded knowingly. “That sounds like Alicia. Rest never suited her.” A brief softness crossed her otherwise composed expression. “Please tell her she is missed—and that her position remains secure.”

Miranda smiled. “She’ll be happy to hear that.”

They walked deeper into the mansion, their footsteps echoing down a long corridor lined with oil paintings of stern-looking men and elegantly dressed women—generations frozen in time.

“As for you,” Mrs. Reese continued, “your presence here is temporary, but the standards of this household are permanent.” She glanced at Miranda, assessing her once more, though this time with measured approval. “The Negasi family values loyalty above all else.”

Miranda nodded, listening intently.

“The Negasi name has stood for over a century,” Mrs. Reese went on. “What began as a modest trading enterprise became an empire—shipping, energy, private investments. Old money, yes, but earned through discipline and discretion.” Her voice lowered slightly. “They do not tolerate gossip, curiosity, or unnecessary familiarity.”

They stopped at the base of a grand staircase that curved upward like a piece of art.

“These are the rules you must follow,” Mrs. Reese said. “First—what you see in this house stays in this house. No conversations, no observations, no assumptions leave these walls. Second—never address a family member unless spoken to directly. Politeness is expected, familiarity is not.”

Miranda swallowed and nodded again.

“Third,” Mrs. Reese added, “certain wings of the house are off-limits unless you are instructed otherwise. You will be told where you may go and when. Do not wander.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Reese resumed walking. “Your duties will largely mirror Mrs. Alicia’s. Morning rounds of the east wing, assisting with household upkeep, overseeing linen changes, and tending to the private family quarters when required. Occasionally, you may be asked to assist the kitchen staff or accompany me during formal events.”

Miranda hesitated. “Formal events?”

“Dinner functions. Business gatherings. Charity affairs.” Mrs. Reese’s mouth tightened slightly. “On such occasions, invisibility is a skill. Learn it quickly.”

They turned into a smaller corridor, quieter, more intimate.

“One final thing,” Mrs. Reese said, stopping abruptly. Her gaze sharpened. “The Negasis are not an ordinary family. You will hear things, witness things that may confuse you. Your job is not to understand—only to serve.”

A chill slid down Miranda’s spine.

“I understand,” she said, though uncertainty curled in her chest.

Mrs. Reese studied her for a long moment, then gave a small nod. “Good. Mrs. Alicia always spoke highly of you. For her sake, I hope you live up to her words.”

She reached for a door and opened it. “This will be your room.

Mrs. Reese gestured for Miranda to step fully into the room.It was modest compared to the rest of the mansion, but still far grander than anything Miranda had known—soft cream walls, a neatly made bed, a writing desk beneath a tall window, and a small wardrobe polished to a gentle shine. Another bed sat across the room, equally tidy, its occupant notably absent.

“You will not be alone here,” Mrs. Reese said. “You will be sharing this room.”

Miranda turned back to her. “Oh.”

Before she could ask more, Mrs. Reese stepped aside as a young woman entered. She appeared to be around Miranda’s age, with warm brown skin, alert eyes, and dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She wore a simple black uniform and moved with practiced confidence.

“This is Sofia,” Mrs. Reese said. “She has been with the household for three years. She will be your roommate—and your guide.”

Sofia offered Miranda a small, welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, you can call me Mimi, ,” Miranda replied, instantly relieved to see a friendly face.

“Sofia,” Mrs. Reese continued, “please see to it that Miranda receives her uniform and work shoes. Show her the morning routine and ensure she understands her duties before dawn.”

“Yes, Mrs. Reese,” Sofia replied promptly.

Mrs. Reese turned back to Miranda. “You will rest for the remainder of today. No duties until morning. Consider it a courtesy—and a test. Tomorrow begins early. Very early.”

Miranda nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Mrs. Reese gave one last assessing glance before exiting the room, the door closing softly behind her.

The silence that followed felt different—less oppressive.

Sofia exhaled quietly and smiled again. “Don’t worry. She’s strict, but fair. You’ll get used to her.”

“I hope so,” Miranda said, lowering her bag beside the bed.

Sofia crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out a neatly folded uniform—black trousers, a crisp white blouse, and a fitted dark vest. She placed them on Miranda’s bed, along with a pair of polished black shoes.

“These are yours,” she said. “Wear them tomorrow morning. Hair neat, no loose strands. No jewelry—except a watch, if you have one.”

Miranda ran her fingers lightly over the fabric. “Got it.”

“I’ll wake you at five,” Sofia added. “We start with the east wing. Mrs. Reese does her inspection at six sharp.”

Miranda blinked. “Five?”

Sofia chuckled softly. “Welcome to the Negasi household.”

As the afternoon faded into evening, Miranda lay on her bed, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling. Her body was tired, but her mind refused to rest. Somewhere beyond these walls, powerful people lived their private lives—lives she was not meant to witness, only to serve.

Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that stepping into this house wasn’t just a temporary solution. It was the beginning of something far more complicated.And as sleep finally claimed her, one truth lingered quietly in her thoughts, Morning would change everything.