My CEO My Mistake

The encounter

Elira stepped cautiously into the room, her hand brushing against the polished brass doorknob as it clicked shut behind her. She had thought she was prepared for what she would find, but the sight before her stole the air from her lungs.

Astonishment bloomed across her face.

“It’s… huge,” she whispered inwardly, her eyes widening with disbelief.

What unfolded before her was not the simple arrangement of a guest room she had expected no modest bed by the window, no small dresser neatly tucked to one side. Instead, she found herself standing at the mouth of what looked more like a corridor than a bedroom. The space stretched forward at least three meters, its marble-tiled flooring gleaming faintly under the muted light. On her left, a small lavatory lay discreetly tucked into the side wall, its frosted glass door and a jar. On the opposite wall ran a wardrobe of impressive size a vast closet that stretched from where she stood all the way to the end of the corridor, polished wood glimmering with a dark sheen.

Elira swallowed hard. This was not what she had imagined at all.

Tentatively, she inched forward until the corridor opened into a grand chamber. Her gaze swept across the enormous bedroom that sprawled before her, and for a brief second she felt as though she had stepped into a dream or perhaps a world she was not meant to see.

The curtains were drawn tightly across towering windows, heavy fabric pooling onto the floor. The sun outside had only just begun to climb into the morning sky, yet in here, the world was swallowed in darkness. Shadows pressed in around her like watchful sentinels. The only reprieve was a single lamp mounted beside the bed, its warm amber glow spilling across the wall and casting faint flickers against the silk sheets. Without it, the room would have been indistinguishable from midnight.

She squinted into the gloom. The bed loomed large bigger than any she had ever seen. The blankets were disheveled, tossed aside without care, their folds and creases catching the faint light. She frowned. Clearly, the maids hadn’t yet come to tidy up.

A part of her, the well-trained, orderly part, made a note: once she finished washing, she would smooth the sheets and fold the blankets. Even if it wasn’t her room, it was wrong to leave it in such a state.

On that thought, she slipped quietly into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her. Moments later, the sound of rushing water filled the silence, echoing softly against the tiled walls.

Across the room, the man resting in the bed stirred. His brow furrowed, his sleep disturbed by the intrusive noise. But he did not rise. Not yet.

Meanwhile, Elira was trying to wash quickly. Her hands moved in hurried strokes, as if each droplet of water were a countdown against her nerves. The environment felt strange foreign. The polished fixtures gleamed too brightly, the mirror was too tall, the marble too cold against her bare feet. There was an unease gnawing at her chest, though she could not place why.

She scrubbed faster.

No matter what, the sooner she finished, the better.

Her breath came faster with every passing second. Finally, she rinsed away the last traces of soap and stepped out, skin flushed with heat. Ten minutes no more. That would be enough.

But as she reached for the towel, her heart stopped.

Her clothes.

They weren’t here.

A chill surged through her. How could she have forgotten? She pressed the towel tighter against herself, mind racing. She couldn’t possibly walk out like this and yet, she had no other choice.

Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. Heat crept up her cheeks, both from the steam and from humiliation. She bit down gently on her lower lip, gathering courage.

Finally, with trembling hands, she turned the handle.

The door creaked open.

Barefoot, she stepped out into the bedroom once more. The air felt colder against her damp skin, prickling goosebumps across her arms.

“I’ll just borrow one of Mrs. Lewiston’s dresses,” she assured herself silently, her footsteps light against the floor. “It should be fine. I’ll return it as soon as I get my own clothes back.”

The thought gave her strength. She strode quickly to the massive wardrobe, tugging one of its heavy doors open.

And froze.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes scanned the neat rows of clothing within. Not a single dress. Not a single skirt. Instead, white shirts hung in flawless precision, identical in cut and color, each one immaculate.

Her heart gave a sharp jolt.

Why were there no women’s clothes?

Her gaze darted nervously to the bed. A dreadful suspicion crept in.

“Unless… Mr. Lewiston doesn’t live with Mrs. Lewiston?” The idea landed like a thunderclap in her chest. If true, she had stumbled upon a secret far beyond her station to know.

Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for one of the shirts. “Whatever,” she whispered under her breath. “I’ll just wear it. Just for now.”

The fabric was cool against her fingers as she slid the hanger off the rod. But in her nervous haste, her grip faltered.

Clatter!

The hanger slipped and struck the wooden cabinet with a loud bang that shattered the silence.

Elira froze, wide-eyed.

From the bed came the sound of movement sheets shifting, a soft groan. A pair of dark eyes blinked open, glinting faintly in the dim light.

Panic surged through her.

She scrambled, lifting the fallen hanger and hooking it hastily back into place. Her breath was uneven as she slipped one of the white shirts over her shoulders, her fingers fumbling desperately with the buttons.

“Calm down. Calm down. There’s no one here. Why am I panicking?” she whispered, though the words offered no real comfort. Her fingers shook so badly that each button took effort, her chest tightening with every breath.

A voice broke through the silence, deep and velvet smooth.

“Ugh… who is it?”

Elira jumped as though struck. The shirt slipped between her trembling fingers, and two buttons popped free with a sharp snap, clattering to the floor.

Slowly, instinctively, she turned.

And there he was.

The man sat upright, his figure tall and commanding even in the dim light. His features sharpened as her eyes adjusted strong jaw, elegantly arched brows, lips curved faintly in irritation. And those eyes… dark, piercing, as though they could strip her of every secret she tried to hide.

Elira’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs.

“Why… why is he here?”

The man regarded her with quiet amusement. Folding his arms, he leaned back against the headboard, studying her for a long, unbroken moment. Then, with a slow curl of his lips, he asked in a voice that carried both teasing and accusation:

“Are you seducing me?”

Her mind went blank.

“I,I…” she stammered, words scattering like leaves in a storm.

He rose, each movement fluid, deliberate. His footsteps echoed softly as he crossed the room, closing the space between them with an ease that terrified her.

“This tutor is special indeed,” he murmured, his gaze lingering. “You even teach… showering?”

Her heart plummeted. She lifted her hands defensively, shaking her head. “N,,no… Uncle, please listen! It was Ethan. He… he spilled ink on me, and he said this was his father’s room. He told me to wash here, I… I didn’t know it was your room…”

Her voice grew smaller and smaller until it was barely above a whisper, fragile as the wings of a moth.

The man’s brows arched slightly. “Uncle?”

“Yes!” she blurted quickly. “You’re my uncle, aren’t you? My guardian’s close friend… so I… I should call you that.”

Even as she spoke, her tongue betrayed her, stumbling clumsily over words. She bit it once, then twice, wincing at the sting but refusing to cry out.

His lips quirked upward.

Elira lowered her head, her entire body trembling. She had almost forgotten how to breathe. His gaze lingered, sharp yet unreadable, and he stepped closer still.

Her back pressed suddenly against the door no escape.

The space between them vanished. She could feel his breath, warm against her skin. His eyes dipped lower, catching on the loose fabric of the shirt she had barely managed to fasten.

She stiffened. Heat bloomed across her cheeks as realization struck.

Her scent, fresh from the shower, carried upward in the still air. Unlike perfume, it was light, natural soap, water, and something else that was uniquely her. He inhaled subtly, and for the first time, his expression faltered, something flickering behind his gaze.

Recognition.

His eyes widened ever so slightly, recalling a night blurred, shadowed, half-forgotten.

Elira waited, terrified, but he did not move further. Seconds stretched into eternity.

At last, she dared to glance up.

The passion in his eyes struck her like a thunderbolt. Her breath hitched, and instinctively she wrapped her arms across her chest.

“A-ah!” she gasped, her face blazing.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and unhurried. “Have we met?”

Her heart jumped. “Of course not!” she snapped, her voice high-pitched, betraying her fear.

He raised a brow, amusement deepening. His gaze pinned her in place, leaving her palms slick with cold sweat.

No, he hadn’t recognized her. Not clearly. Relief and dread tangled inside her.

His hand rose, brushing gently across her forehead, pushing aside damp strands of hair. The gesture was intimate, deliberate. His voice dropped, low and teasing.

“Then why are you so afraid of me?”

Her heart nearly stopped. Heat consumed her face, crawling to the tips of her ears. She stumbled backward, though there was nowhere to retreat.

“No… no, Uncle, I… I’m not afraid,” she whispered, though the trembling in her voice betrayed her.

Her denial only exposed the truth more clearly.

A sudden knock startled them both.

“Knock, knock, knock!”

“Miss Dane?” a young voice called from the other side. “Have you finished washing?”

Ethan.

Elira’s eyes lit up in relief. She had been saved.

“I… I’m done! I’ll be right there!” she cried, almost too quickly.

The man before her narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile as he watched her frantic eagerness.

She bowed hastily. “Uncle… I’ll take my leave now!”

Before he could answer, she darted to the door, slipping past him with the speed of a frightened rabbit. Her bare feet padded against the floor as she disappeared, leaving behind only the faint echo of her scent and a man staring after her, intrigue burning in his dark eyes.