Serving his desires

Chapter 4

The days passed in quiet tension.

Lucian barely spoke to me, and I returned the favor.

Our interactions became mechanical—short, efficient. I would bring his coffee, he would take it without a word. If he needed something, he would ask, and I would answer with a simple "Yes, sir" or "Right away."

He didn’t comment on it. If anything, he seemed to prefer it this way.

It should have made things easier.

But it didn’t.

There was a heaviness in the silence between us, like something unspoken hung in the air, waiting. I tried to ignore it, to focus on my work, but I was more aware of him than ever—his presence lingering whenever he entered a room, the quiet way he watched me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

One evening, as I was folding linens in the hallway, I heard the study door open. I stiffened instinctively, expecting him to walk past, but he paused.

I didn’t look up.

“Mara.”

His voice was steady, unreadable.

I gripped the fabric in my hands. “Yes, sir?”

A beat of silence. Then.....

“Never mind.”

He walked away, and I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Even when we weren’t speaking, he still managed to affect me.

And I hated that I let him.

The silence between us stretched for days.

Lucian no longer acknowledged me beyond the necessary, and I followed his lead. I kept my replies short, my presence unobtrusive. I told myself it was better this way.

One evening, after finishing the last of my duties, I made my way to the kitchen for some tea. The mansion was quiet—most of the staff had retired for the night. As I poured the steaming liquid into a cup, I sensed him before I saw him.

Lucian stood in the doorway, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable.

I turned slightly. “Do you need something, sir?”

His gaze flickered to the tea in my hands. “You always drink that before bed?”

I hesitated, surprised by the question. “Yes.”

Another pause. He didn’t leave. He didn’t step forward either.

I should have asked if he wanted some, but I held my tongue, unsure if this was some sort of test.

When I said nothing, he finally spoke again. “Goodnight, Mara.”

It was the first time in days that he had addressed me outside of an order.

I gripped my cup tighter. “Goodnight, sir.”

Lucian held my gaze for a second longer, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.

I stood there for a long time, the tea growing cold in my hands.

The following days passed in much the same way—short exchanges, lingering silences.

Lucian remained distant, and I didn’t push. I focused on my duties, keeping my head down, avoiding unnecessary conversation. It should have made things easier.

But it didn’t.

I found myself hyper-aware of his presence, of the way he carried himself, of the way his gaze would linger on me for a fraction too long before he looked away. It was like he was waiting for something. Or maybe I was.

Late one evening, I was in the library dusting the shelves. The fire in the corner crackled softly, casting shadows along the dark wood. The house was still.

Until I heard footsteps.

I tensed, knowing who it was before I even turned around.

Lucian stood near the doorway, watching me with that same unreadable expression. He didn’t speak at first, and I didn’t either.

I swallowed and turned back to the bookshelf. “Should I leave?”

His voice came, low and firm. “No.”

I hesitated before continuing to dust, feeling his gaze still on me.

Minutes passed in silence.

Then....

“You’ve been quiet.”

I stilled for only a second before resuming my work. “I didn’t think you cared.”

Lucian let out a soft exhale, almost like a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t.” Whaaaaat??? why did he even ask?

I nodded once, pretending that didn’t sting in some strange way.

More silence. The weight of his presence pressed against me, thick and heavy.

Then, just as quietly as he had come, he left.

And I realized that even in silence, he had a way of unraveling me.

Lucian’s presence lingered even after he left the library.

I tried to focus on my work, but my hands were unsteady as I placed the duster back on the shelf. My pulse thrummed in my ears, a frustrating reaction to a man who barely spoke to me, who made it clear he didn’t care.

So why did he come in just to say that?

Why was he watching me?

I let out a quiet breath, shaking the thoughts away. It didn’t matter. Lucian was cold, detached. That wasn’t going to change.

By the time I returned to my room, the house was quiet, everyone tucked away for the night. I changed into my nightgown and slipped under the covers, staring at the ceiling. Sleep came slowly, my mind unsettled, my body restless.

And when I finally drifted off, it wasn’t peace that greeted me.

It was him.

A dream, hazy and indistinct. Lucian’s voice, low and commanding. His hands brushed against my skin, igniting something deep inside me. He kissed me roughly while I moaned In response into his mouth. He went ahead to spread my legs and used his hard length to massage my extremely wet and hot skin.

I woke up startled, breathless, my body heated in a way that made my stomach twist. What was that? This is wrong.

I sat up, pressing a hand to my chest, trying to steady myself but a slimy feeling down there made me self aware. I used my finger to feel it and I was extremely wet and almost dripping.

This was dan

gerous.

Whatever this was....this pull toward him, this awareness....I needed to push it away.

Because Lucian was not a man to want.

And I was not a woman he would ever love. I was low class and most importantly, just a maid, his maid.