Serving his desires

Chapter 3

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself noticing the small things about him. The way he preferred his coffee strong and black, the way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was frustrated, the way his jaw tightened whenever his ex-wife was mentioned.

Lucian Vale was a man of few words, but the silence around him spoke volumes.

I wasn’t sure if he truly saw me, or if I was just another part of the house—another fixture, another thing to keep in place. But there were moments when I caught his gaze lingering just a little too long. Moments when his presence felt heavier than it should.

Like tonight.

I was in the kitchen, finishing up for the night, when I heard footsteps. I turned and saw him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"You're still awake," he said, his voice smooth but distant.

I nodded, setting down the dish towel. "Just cleaning up."

He walked inside, heading straight for the whiskey decanter. I watched as he poured himself a glass, his fingers steady despite the tension in his shoulders.

I hesitated before speaking. "Long day?"

Lucian let out a low chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "Something like that."

I bit my lip, unsure if I should pry. He didn’t seem like the type of man who wanted company, but at the same time, he hadn’t left the kitchen yet.

Instead, he leaned against the counter, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

"You’ve been here for a while now," he said suddenly, his gaze flicking to me.

I swallowed. "Yes, sir."

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he took a sip of his drink.

"You don’t have to call me that," he murmured.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter. "What should I call you, then?"

Lucian smirked, but it was subtle, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should be amused. "Just Lucian."

Just Lucian.

It felt too intimate. Too personal.

But I nodded anyway. "Okay."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was heavy—not uncomfortable, but charged in a way I didn’t quite understand yet.

Finally, he pushed off the counter, setting his glass down. "Get some rest, Mara."

He walked past me, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of whiskey and something darker—something purely him.

And just like that, he was gone.

I exhaled, realizing I’d been holding my breath.

I wasn’t sure what this was between us, but I knew one thing.

It was growing.

And sooner or later, something was going to break.

I stood there for a moment, gripping the counter as if it could steady me. The weight of his presence still lingered, his scent—whiskey and something unmistakably masculine—clinging to the air.

Just Lucian.

I shouldn’t have liked the way it sounded. But I did.

Shaking off the thought, I rinsed my hands and wiped them dry before heading upstairs. My room was small but comfortable, tucked away in the servants' wing. It was nothing compared to the luxurious guest rooms or even Lucian’s master suite, but it was enough for me.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the dim glow of my bedside lamp. My heart was still beating a little too fast. It was stupid, really—getting worked up over a simple exchange.

But there was something about him.

Something that made me wonder what he was thinking when he looked at me.

I fell asleep with that thought circling my mind.

—

The next morning, I woke early, as always. The house was quiet, the soft hum of the city outside barely breaking the stillness. I tied my apron around my waist and started my usual routine—checking the kitchen, making sure everything was in place before the other staff arrived.

By the time breakfast was prepared, Lucian still hadn’t come downstairs. That wasn’t unusual. Some days he barely ate, other days he drank his coffee in silence before disappearing into his study.

But today, as I moved through the house, I found myself pausing outside his office. The door was slightly ajar, and from inside, I could hear the sound of ice clinking against glass.

At this hour?

I hesitated before knocking lightly.

“Come in.”

His voice was deep, slightly rough—like he hadn’t spoken all morning.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Lucian was sitting at his desk, a glass of whiskey beside him. His tie was undone, his sleeves rolled up. There was something almost unraveled about him, something I hadn’t seen before.

“You’re drinking already?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes flicked up to mine, cool and unreadable. “You sound concerned, Mara.”

I swallowed. “It’s just… early.”

Lucian smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Time is irrelevant.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I glanced at the untouched breakfast tray on the side table. “You should eat something.”

His gaze lingered on me for a beat too long before he exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “Why do you care?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question.

Why did I care?

I could have said it was part of my job. That I made sure everything in this house ran smoothly, including his well-being.

But that wasn’t the truth, was it?

“I just do,” I admitted quietly.

Lucian studied me, something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes. Then, without another word, he picked up the whiskey glass and took another sip.

I should have left then.

But instead, I lingered.

And for the first time, I thought I saw the faintest crack in his armor.

Lucian swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid move but not really looking at it. His expression remained unreadable, his posture relaxed yet somehow commanding.

“You linger too much,” he said after a moment, his voice smooth but distant.

I stiffened slightly, caught between the urge to step back and the strange pull he had on me. “I was just making sure you—”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Mara. That's not what you're here for."

I swallowed, nodding even though something inside me twisted at the way he dismissed me so easily.

“You should eat sir” I said again, a quiet insistence.

Lucian’s gaze lifted to mine, and for a second, the room felt smaller. His dark eyes held no warmth, no softness—just quiet calculation, like he was measuring my presence and deciding if it even mattered.

“I’ll eat when I feel like it,” he said coolly. “You’re dismissed.”

Something about the way he said it—so effortlessly, as if I was nothing more than an afterthought—made my stomach tighten.

I nodded and turned, walking toward the door. But just as I reached for the handle, his voice stopped me.

“You always do that.”

I glanced back. “Do what?”

His gaze flickered over me, indifferent. “Try to fix things that aren’t your concern.”

I frowned, gripping the doorknob. “I’m just doing my job.”

Lucian smirked faintly, but there was no humor in it. “Is that what you think?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to.

So I left,

closing the door behind me with a quiet click.

But even as I walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still watching me even if he wasn't....still trying to figure out what to do with the woman who cared too much.