The private task
1068 Words
Larissa woke the next morning with aching arms and sore feet. Her first full day had left her body screaming in protest, but quitting wasn’t an option. Rent was due, her mother’s medicine wasn’t free, and this job,no matter how humiliating or hard, it was her only chance.
The mansion was already alive with activity. The faint hum of the vacuum echoed down the long hallway, and the smell of coffee wafted through the air. She tied her apron a little tighter and slipped quietly into the kitchen, hoping to blend in.
“Morning,” one of the cooks said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Rough day yesterday?”
Larissa managed a weak laugh. “You could say that.”
But her moment of calm didn’t last. A voice from behind froze her in place.
“Larissa. In my study. Now.”
That voice. Deep. Commanding. It sent a ripple down her spine.
She turned, and there he was,the billionaire himself, impeccably dressed in a black suit, the faintest hint of stubble shadowing his sharp jaw. His eyes, dark and unreadable, didn’t linger long before he turned and walked away, expecting her to follow.
The cook shot her a wide-eyed look. “Good luck,” she mouthed.
Larissa swallowed hard and followed him down the corridor, her heart hammering louder with each step.
~~~~~
The study was dimly lit, heavy with the scent of leather and expensive cologne. The morning light streamed through tall windows, catching in the dust motes like golden rain. He stood behind his desk, flipping through papers before finally setting them down.
“Close the door,” he said without looking up.
She obeyed.
Silence stretched between them, thick and tense. Larissa felt every second crawl by.
Finally, he spoke. “You’ve lasted longer than I expected.”
“I… I’m trying my best, sir,” she replied carefully.
He looked up then, meeting her eyes. That gaze was unreadable—part curiosity, part calculation. “Trying isn’t enough here. I need staff who can adapt. Think. Anticipate what’s needed before I ask for it.”
Larissa nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
He studied her for a moment longer before walking around the desk, stopping close enough that she could feel the faint warmth radiating from him. Her breath hitched.
“I’m assigning you to a new task,” he said quietly. “You’ll be responsible for maintaining this study. Only you. No one else touches anything here.”
Her heart jumped. “Me?”
“Yes. You,” he said simply. “If I find anything misplaced… you’ll be dismissed.”
Larissa’s throat tightened. “Understood, sir.”
He turned slightly, reaching for a file on the table, and for a fleeting second, their hands brushed. Electricity shot through her—unexpected and sharp. She pulled her hand back instantly, eyes wide.
He noticed. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he said nothing.
⸻
For the next hour, she worked quietly—dusting shelves, organizing folders, straightening books. She could feel his eyes on her now and then, but she didn’t dare look up.
Her movements were careful, precise. Every motion deliberate. But when she reached for a stack of papers near the edge of his desk, one page slipped free and fluttered to the floor.
“Oh no…” she whispered, bending quickly to grab it—only to realize it wasn’t just a document. It was a photograph.
A woman’s face smiled up at her. Beautiful. Elegant. Holding a baby.
She froze.
Before she could process it, his voice broke through the silence. “Put that back.”
Larissa straightened immediately, heart thundering. “I—I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to—”
His expression was unreadable, but his eyes darkened. “That’s private.”
“I understand,” she said softly, placing it carefully back on his desk. But curiosity sparked inside her. Who was that woman? And the baby… his?
He turned away, his tone distant now. “You can go.”
Larissa hesitated, unsure if she should apologize again. “Sir, I really didn’t mean—”
“Go,” he repeated, his voice low and clipped.
She nodded and hurried toward the door, cheeks burning with embarrassment. But just as she reached for the handle, his voice stopped her again.
“Larissa.”
She turned.
His gaze met hers, steady and piercing. “You’re new. You’ll make mistakes. Just make sure they’re never the same one twice.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Something softened in his eyes then—barely perceptible, but real. “And… don’t touch the photograph again.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
She left the study quickly, her thoughts spinning. The image of that woman and child burned in her mind. Who were they? Why did he look so different when he saw it?
Her curiosity was dangerous, but she couldn’t help herself. For the first time, the billionaire didn’t seem untouchable. He seemed human—haunted, even.
⸻
That evening, Larissa found herself cleaning the main hallway again, lost in thought. She didn’t notice Amelia until the woman’s voice cut through the quiet.
“So,” Amelia sneered, leaning against the doorframe, “our little maid is getting private meetings now?”
Larissa stiffened. “It was just work.”
Amelia’s smirk deepened. “Of course it was. Don’t get too comfortable, sweetheart. He doesn’t like mistakes—and I’ll be here to remind him every time you make one.”
Larissa swallowed hard, refusing to show fear. “Then I’ll just stop making them.”
Amelia’s eyes narrowed, the smile fading slightly.
Larissa turned and walked away, her heart pounding. She didn’t know where this sudden confidence came from, but it felt good—dangerous, maybe—but good.
⸻
As the mansion fell quiet that night, Larissa lay in her small room staring at the ceiling, the day replaying in her mind.
The photograph.
His voice.
That faint flicker of emotion he tried so hard to hide.
He has secrets… and somehow, I’ve already touched one.
She didn’t know whether to be afraid or intrigued. But deep down, she knew one thing for certain:
Her life in that mansion was no longer just about work.
It was about him.
And that was the most dangerous part of all.
- Writer
