Serving his desires

Chapter 9

I didn’t know why I stayed.

Lucian was still sitting in the same spot, the glass of whiskey in his hand, his expression unreadable. The weight of his words lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. His marriage was falling apart, his wife was gone, and yet, there was no sadness in his voice. Just exhaustion.

Maybe that’s what made me stay.

Or maybe it was the way he had looked at me—like he wasn’t sure why I was still here either.

"You said she wanted something you couldn’t give," I said carefully. "Is that why you married her? Out of obligation?"

Lucian exhaled slowly, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. "No. I married her because it made sense."

"Made sense?"

He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine. "She was from a good family. Intelligent. Beautiful. She understood the world I lived in. There was no love between us, but it was supposed to work."

"Supposed to," I echoed.

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Yes. Supposed to."

I wasn’t sure why I was asking so many questions. Maybe because I had never seen him talk this much before. Or maybe because, for the first time since I started working here, he didn’t feel so untouchable.

"You don’t seem like the type of man who lets people close," I said, watching him carefully.

"I don’t."

"Then why did you marry her?"

Lucian leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before answering. "Because I thought I could control it. That if I set the rules, things wouldn’t spiral out of my hands."

"But they did," I murmured.

His jaw clenched. "Yes."

Silence stretched between us, and for the first time, I felt something shift in the air. He wasn’t just exhausted—he was trapped. In a marriage that didn’t work, in expectations he never asked for.

And yet, he was still here.

I should have left. The conversation had run its course. But something in me hesitated, my fingers tightening on the edge of my uniform.

"Have you ever been happy?" The question left my lips before I could stop it.

Lucian stilled.

For a second, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. That he would brush it off the way he did with everything else. But then, he let out a quiet breath and said, "I don’t know."

I didn’t know what I had expected him to say. Maybe I had hoped for some glimpse of vulnerability, something that made him feel less like the cold, unreadable man I worked for.

Instead, all I got was the truth.

And for some reason, it made my chest tighten.

I stood up, smoothing my skirt. "You should rest."

Lucian watched me for a long moment before nodding once. "You should go."

I turned to leave, my heart beating just a little too fast.

But as I reached the door, his voice stopped me again.

"Mara."

I turned.

He was still staring at me, his expression unreadable. "Thank you."

It was just two words. Simple. Distant.

But coming from him, it felt like something more.

It made my heart flutter in my chest as I gave him a smile, I kinda liked the little conversation we just had and the fact that he expressed himself. I loved it.

I made my way back to my room, my footsteps soft against the polished floors. The conversation with Lucian still lingered in my mind, playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

Have you ever been happy?

His answer had been simple. Honest. And yet, it felt heavier than anything else he had said tonight.

I closed the door behind me, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My body felt tense, my muscles stiff from the weight of the evening. Without another thought, I peeled off my uniform and stepped into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

The water was scalding as it hit my skin, but I didn’t turn it down. Instead, I let it burn away the lingering tension, let it soothe the parts of me that felt too tightly wound.

Lucian Vale was a complicated man.

I had known that from the moment I met him, but tonight had given me a glimpse of something different. Something raw.

I leaned my head against the cool tiles, letting the steam wrap around me.

What was I doing?

This wasn’t supposed to be my problem. I was just a maid. A woman who needed a job. And yet, here I was—standing under scalding water, thinking about a man who barely showed any emotion, who only spoke when necessary, who had just admitted to me that he didn’t even know if he had ever been happy.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the heat.

Maybe it was the way he had looked at me before I left. Maybe it was the exhaustion in his voice.

Or maybe it was the fact that, for the first time, Lucian Vale had let his guard down.

Even if it was just for a moment.

After my shower, I stepped out, the steam curling around me as I reached for a towel. Droplets slid down my skin, tracing the curve of my waist, my hips, my thighs.

I stood in front of the mirror, my reflection hazy from the lingering mist. My bare skin glowed under the soft bathroom light, the heat of the shower still clinging to me. My eyes drifted downward, taking in the rise and fall of my chest, my perky boobs that hadn't been touched for quite a long time, the curve of my hips.

And then, my mind betrayed me.

I imagined Lucian standing behind me—his broad frame towering over mine, his hands skimming down my sides, his fingers tracing the dip of my waist. His lips would be at my neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses against my damp skin. His breath, warm and teasing, would send shivers down my spine.

A slow ache coiled in my belly, spreading lower as I used my hands to massage my boobs and slowly wrapped my fingers around my n*****s, making my inner thighs tingle with an unfamiliar need. My skin felt too hot, my breath unsteady as I let out a moan while biting my lower lip.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking the thought away.

No.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Lucian was cold. Detached. A man who barely acknowledged my presence unless necessary. And yet, my body reacted to the mere thought of him as if he had already touched me.

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the sink.

I needed to stop.

I needed to focus.

But even as I wrapped the towel around myself and stepped into my room, my pulse still raced, and my skin still burned with the ghost of a touch that had never even happened.