His Maid, His Obsession

"Bound by Rope, Freed by Rage"

Ken’s grip on her loosened for a second, but his dark gaze never left her face. There was something about the way she stood there—small, delicate-looking, yet completely unyielding. It pissed him off.

His lips curled into a smirk, but the words that left his mouth were anything but amused.

"That’s what you are, aren’t you? Just another desperate whore

SMACK!

The sound echoed through the hallway, sharp and merciless.

Ken’s head snapped to the side, his cheek stinging from the impact. For a second, there was complete silence. Even the air felt frozen.

Jennifer lowered her hand slowly, her expression calm—too calm. She didn’t step back, didn’t apologize, didn’t even seem rattled.

"If you ever speak to me like that again," she said, her voice quiet but firm, "I’ll make sure your father hears exactly what his son has turned into."

Ken, still stunned, turned his face back toward her, his cheek burning—not just from the slap, but from the sheer audacity of this woman.

No one had ever dared to touch him like that. No one.

And yet, Jennifer Davis just did.

Ken’s eyes burned with fury as he slowly turned his face back toward her, his jaw clenched, his cheek still stinging.

"I’ll ruin you," he hissed, his voice low, dangerous. "I’ll make sure you regret ever stepping foot in this house."

Jennifer, completely unfazed, simply brushed her hands against her apron as if dusting off something unimportant. Then, she looked up at him, her expression unreadable.

"You’re not the first man to threaten me, Mr. Williams." Her voice was calm, almost pitying. "And you won’t be the last."

Ken’s fingers twitched at his sides. Why the f**k did she talk like that? Like she had seen worse. Like he was nothing more than a spoiled child throwing threats he didn’t even understand.

Jennifer took a step back, fixing her apron. "Now, if you’re done with your tantrum, I have work to do."

And with that, she turned around and walked away—leaving Ken standing there, seething, furious… and, for the first time in his life, completely powerless.

The next morning, Ken woke up with a dull ache in his jaw—a reminder of last night’s humiliation. His father had left, the house was quiet, and yet, his mood was still f*****g awful.

With a groan, he ran a hand through his messy hair and sat up, only to freeze mid-motion.

Jennifer was in his room.

She moved silently, efficiently, completely focused on her work. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow on her as she adjusted the sheets, her delicate fingers smoothing out the fabric with practiced ease.

For some reason, Ken didn’t speak. He just… watched.

The way she moved—graceful but strong. The way her small frame carried an air of quiet authority. The way her lashes lowered as she concentrated, completely unaffected by his presence.

Something in his chest twisted.

He was used to women giggling, trembling, seeking his attention. But Jennifer?

She hadn’t even acknowledged that he was awake.

His grip on the sheets tightened slightly.

What the f**k is this feeling? It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t irritation. It wasn’t even the usual boredom that came after breaking someone.

It was something far more dangerous.

Before he could even process it, Jennifer finished her work, turned to leave—and their eyes met.

Ken’s breath hitched for just a second.

Jennifer blinked once, then spoke in her usual calm, unreadable tone.

"Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes."

And just like that, she walked out, completely unaware that, for the first time ever, Ken Williams had been left speechless.

Ken splashed cold water on his face, running a hand through his damp hair. Last night’s frustration still lingered, but something else gnawed at him—a feeling he couldn’t name.

Shoving it aside, he headed downstairs, his footsteps echoing in the silent halls. As he entered the dining room, his eyes instinctively searched for her—not that he’d ever admit it.

And then, he saw it.

Jennifer was at the table, carefully setting down dishes. Her hands moved with the same quiet precision as always, but this time… something was off.

Her fingers were stained with blood.

Ken’s brows furrowed. The crimson smeared along her pale skin, seeping from a fresh cut, but she didn’t even flinch. No hesitation, no complaint—she just kept working.

"What the f**k happened to your hand?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Jennifer barely spared him a glance. "It’s nothing."

Ken’s jaw clenched. Nothing? Her damn fingers were bleeding, and she was still moving like it didn’t even matter.

His grip on the chair tightened. "You’re getting blood on the dishes."

Jennifer paused, then wiped her fingers against the hem of her apron, completely unfazed. "Problem solved."

Ken’s eye twitched. What kind of woman was this?

He should’ve let it go. He should’ve sat down, ignored it, and moved on.

But instead, before he even understood why—he grabbed her wrist.

Ken’s eyes locked onto hers, something dangerous and unreadable swirling in their depths. His grip loosened, but he still held her wrist, his thumb hovering near the cut.

Then, with a scoff, he let go.

"Bandage it," he muttered, his voice laced with forced indifference. "I don’t need my food tasting like iron."

His words were rough, dismissive—but his eyes told another story.

Jennifer watched him carefully, the slight tension in his jaw, the way he had looked at her hand just seconds ago. For a man who didn’t care, he sure as hell was acting strange.

She wiped her fingers on her apron again. "I’ll handle it after finishing my work."

Ken’s expression hardened instantly. "Do it now."

Jennifer tilted her head slightly. "Are you ordering me, Mr. Williams?"

Ken clenched his jaw. Why the f**k did she talk like that? Like she was testing him? Like she knew something he didn’t?

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"If I have to repeat myself, you won’t like what happens next."

Jennifer simply held his gaze, calm, unaffected.

"Then I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?"

Ken exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustrated beyond belief.

Why the f**k was she like this?

The next morning, Ken was already in a foul mood. He barely understood why Jennifer’s attitude pissed him off so much, but it did. And now, to make things worse—Jack was here.

As Ken stepped into the grand living room, he found Jack Williams—his cousin, his childhood rival, and the biggest pain in his ass—sprawled lazily on the expensive leather couch.

Jack smirked as soon as he saw Ken. "Miss me, cousin?"

Ken rolled his eyes. "Like a bullet to the skull."

Jack laughed, standing up and stretching. Unlike Ken, Jack was more easygoing, always carrying that charming, reckless aura that made people love—and hate—him. But Ken knew better. Jack was just as ruthless, just as dangerous. He just hid it behind a grin.

"Dad told me to stay here for a few days," Jack said, brushing imaginary dust off his coat. "Something about ‘keeping an eye on things’ while he’s handling business."

Ken scoffed. "In other words, he wants to make sure I don’t burn the house down while my old man’s away."

As soon as Jack stepped inside, his sharp eyes landed on Jennifer.

For a moment, he just stared. Then, slowly, a smirk curled on his lips.

He turned toward Ken, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Well, well… Didn’t know you had such fine company here, cousin."

Ken’s jaw clenched. "Don’t start, Jack."

Jack ignored him completely, his attention still on Jennifer. He took a step closer, tilting his head slightly as if studying her. "Jennifer, was it?"

Jennifer, as always, remained calm, unreadable. She met Jack’s gaze with quiet indifference and gave a simple nod. "Yes, Mr. Williams."

Jack let out a low chuckle. "Mr. Williams? Damn. Haven’t been called that in a while. Sounds so… formal."

He glanced back at Ken, his smirk widening. "She always this serious?"

Ken exhaled sharply, already regretting not punching Jack at the door. "Stay out of it."

Jack ignored him again, turning back to Jennifer. "So tell me, angel—how long have you been working under my dear cousin?"

Jennifer blinked once. "I don’t work under anyone, Mr. Williams. I serve."

Jack raised a brow, clearly entertained. "Oh? So you’re one of those types?"

Ken snapped. "Jack, shut the f**k up."

Jack laughed. "Relax, cousin. Just getting to know the help." He glanced at Jennifer again, then back at Ken, eyes twinkling with something dangerous.

"But damn… I gotta say, Ken—you sure you’re not keeping this one for yourself?"

Jennifer remained unfazed. Ken, on the other hand, was dangerously close to putting a bullet between Jack’s eyes.

Jack leaned against the wall, his smirk never fading as his eyes slowly dragged over Jennifer.

"Damn," he muttered, tilting his head slightly. "Didn’t expect the maids around here to be this f*****g hot."

Jennifer, wiping her hands on her apron, didn’t even blink. "I’m married." Her voice was calm, firm—like she was stating a fact that should end the conversation.

Jack chuckled. "Yeah? That supposed to scare me off?"

Jennifer finally met his gaze, her green eyes cool and unreadable. "No. It’s supposed to inform you."

Jack let out a low whistle, amusement flickering in his expression. "Damn. You’re not just hot—you’ve got a f*****g mouth on you too."

The night was heavy with the scent of whiskey and smoke. Laughter and deep voices echoed through the grand halls of the mansion as Ken and Jack sat with a few other ruthless men—their mafia brothers, their drinking partners, their killers.

The expensive crystal glasses clinked together as another round of drinks was poured. Jack, half-drunk already, leaned back, watching Ken with a lazy smirk.

"So, cousin," Jack drawled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "That maid of yours… she’s got a f*****g attitude, huh?"

Ken, who had been silently sipping his drink, stilled for a second. His fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

One of the other men, Marco, chuckled. "Which maid? The little one?"

Jack grinned. "Yeah. The one with the ‘I don’t take sh*t from anyone’ face."

Marco laughed, shaking his head. "Didn’t think Ken would let something like that slide."

Ken exhaled sharply, setting his glass down with a thud. "She’s a f*****g worker. That’s it. Move the f**k on."

Jack raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Relax, Ken. No need to act all f*****g tense."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Jennifer worked in silence. The sound of the knife against the cutting board was steady, her hands moving with quiet precision.

The other maids whispered near the doorway, stealing glances toward the dining hall where the men were drinking.

One of them, Lia, hesitated before stepping closer to Jennifer. "You should be careful," she murmured.

Jennifer didn’t pause. "Of what?"

Lia’s eyes darted toward the hall. "Of them. The way they look at you… the way Jack looks at you."

Jennifer simply continued chopping, her expression unreadable. "Men look. That’s what they do."

Lia swallowed. "Ken, too."

At that, Jennifer did pause—just for a second. Then, calmly, she set the knife down.

"That’s not my concern."

Inside the grand palace halls, the air reeked of alcohol and sweat. Laughter echoed through the dimly lit corridors, but Ken wasn’t paying attention. He stood on the terrace, drink in hand, staring into the night—until something caught his eye.

Something was wrong.

Down below, in one of the long corridors, Jack and his drunk friends surrounded someone.

Jennifer.

Ken’s grip on his glass tightened as his jaw clenched. Jack had her tied to a chair, her dress soaked as he poured beer over her, laughing like it was some f*****g joke.

Jennifer didn’t flinch. Didn’t scream.

Jack smirked, leaning in. "Still so f*****g proud, huh?"

Ken moved.

Fast.

By the time Jack registered what was happening, Ken’s fist had already connected with his jaw.

The laughter died. The other men went silent as Jack crashed to the floor, groaning.

Ken’s voice was low, lethal. "Untie her. Now."

No one hesitated. The ropes fell away, but Jennifer didn’t move—just sat there, drenched, watching Ken.

Jack, wiping blood from his lip, chuckled darkly. "Didn’t know you cared, cousin."

Ken glared down at him, every muscle tight with rage. "Shut the f**k up, Jack."