My Brother's Plaything

Chapter 4

De Ville Hotel

The car slowed to a stop, and I looked up.

My breath caught.

The De Ville Hotel rose before me like something carved out of ambition itself, towering glass walls reflecting the morning sun, polished marble steps leading to revolving doors framed by gold accents. Tall palms lined the entrance, fountains cascading in quiet rhythm, their water catching light like scattered diamonds.

“This will be such a beautiful view at night”, I thought.

Valets moved with rehearsed precision. Guests glided in and out dressed in confidence and money.

It was beautiful. Too beautiful.

For a moment, I forgot where I was coming from, until the weight of my worn clothes and tired body reminded me.

The driver opened the door. “This way, miss.”

Inside, the lobby stretched endlessly upward. Crystal chandeliers hung like constellations from the ceiling. The air smelled faintly of luxury; clean linen, fresh flowers, something expensive I couldn’t name. Soft music played somewhere above the hush of conversations and rolling luggage.

I followed the driver into an elevator, the doors sliding shut with a quiet finality.

Straight to the top.

The conference room was already full when we entered.

Men and women sat around a long, gleaming table, every one of them neat, composed, dressed in tailored suits and calm authority.

Laptops open. Folders aligned. Watches glinting. They all looked like they belonged here.

I didn’t. Then I saw him.

Dr. Jethro sat near the head of the table, relaxed, perfectly at ease, as if this were simply another extension of his world. When his eyes flicked toward me, his expression didn’t change, but something unreadable passed through his gaze.

The driver announced my arrival and stepped out.

I stood there alone.

Intimidation pressed down on me, heavy and immediate but I lifted my chin anyway. I refused to shrink. If this place was meant to swallow me, I wouldn’t make it easy.

“Good morning,” Jethro said smoothly. “This is Alina Georgewill. She’ll be joining us as part of the hotel staff.”

“Miss Rowland, please let's have her briefing,” he concluded.

The head administrator nodded and stood, flipping open a document.

“She’ll be assigned to room service,”she said. “This will include assisting with guest needs and running approved errands for administrative staff.”

I listened carefully, committing every word to memory.

Then she continued.

“And it has been clearly stated, nobody in this hotel is to maltreat her, order her around unnecessarily, or assign her to hard or degrading jobs.”

The last statement hit me like cold water. I blinked.

What?

A ripple of surprise passed through the room. Some staff glanced at one another. Others nodded without question.

I turned slowly toward Jethro. My confusion must have been written all over my face.

What are you doing? my eyes demanded. Acting all protective here while being the devil at home?

Our gazes locked.

And then—infuriatingly—he smiled.

Not wide. Not obvious. A subtle, flirtatious curve of his lips that sent irritation burning through my chest.

I looked away immediately.

Whatever game he was playing, I knew one thing for certain, this kindness wasn’t mercy.

It was control, carefully wrapped in velvet.

And I was standing right in the middle of it.

The uniform felt strange against my skin.

Well ironed. Clean. Branded with the De Ville insignia stitched neatly over the chest. It was a pair of dark blue trousers on a red short sleeves shirt.

When they handed it to me and told me to commence work immediately, I didn’t hesitate. I changed, tied my hair back, and stepped into motion before fear could slow me down.

The hours passed in a blur.

Corridors that never seemed to end. Doors opening and closing. Polite smiles from guests who never really saw me. Requests delivered, trays carried, messages passed between offices.

I worked quietly, efficiently, head down, heart guarded.

By the time my shift finally ended, my feet ached and my body felt heavier than it had that morning. Six in the evening never felt so far away.

Outside, the driver waited exactly where he had dropped me earlier.

The ride back to the mansion was silent. The city lights flickered past the window, and exhaustion dulled the sharp edges of my thoughts. I didn’t speak. Neither did he.

When we arrived, night had fully settled.

Inside the mansion, the silence felt deeper than before.

I walked down the hallway toward my room, my steps slow, my mind already drifting toward the thought of sleep. All I wanted was to close the door, lie down, and forget the day existed.

Then a door opened. The room directly opposite mine.

Dr. Jethro stepped out.

He was dressed differently now—joggers sitting low on his hips, a fitted T-shirt clinging to his frame, outlining his strong muscles built by wickedness and a bit of exercise or gym time, maybe. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d just finished a workout.

For half a second, just half—I froze.

He looked distractingly handsome. The thought unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

Then reality snapped back into place.

Opposite my room?

My stomach tightened.

Does he sleep there?

The idea made my chest feel tight, my skin crawl with unease. That kind of proximity wasn’t accidental.

It felt intentional. Strategic. Easy access.

I swallowed hard and kept walking, my pace slowing despite myself.

Halfway to my door, he stepped into my path.

I stopped.

He leaned in—not touching, not grabbing—but close enough that his presence overwhelmed my senses. His voice dropped, low and deliberate, right beside my ear.

“Prepare yourself,” he whispered. “We’re going out tonight.”

A chill ran straight down my spine.

Before I could respond, he straightened, walked past me, and disappeared down the corridor like nothing had happened.

I stood there, heart pounding, staring at my closed door.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

And the night suddenly felt very, very long.

I stood frozen for a second after Jethro’s whisper brushed my ear. “Prepare yourself, we’re going out tonight.” The words followed me like a shadow as I walked into my room.

I shut the door quietly behind me, leaning against it for a moment.

My chest felt tight—anger simmering beneath my exhaustion, fear curling in my stomach.

I didn’t bother to turn on the lights. I didn’t bother to bathe or change. Still in my work clothes, I reached for my phone and dialed the only number that felt like home.

The call barely rang twice before it was picked up.

“Alinaaaa,” May’s voice sang from the other end. “What took me so long? I was busy.” she said, laughing sheepishly.

I frowned weakly. “Busy enough to ignore the first ring?”

May scoffed. “Please. I just caught a new one. Tall, fine, smells like money. If I play my cards right, I might just upgrade my lifestyle by next week.” She laughed, clearly pleased with herself.

“Honestly, he looks like he could be my helper or… my sponsor. We’ll see.” she said, excitement so visible in her tone.

I didn’t laugh.

There was a little pause, then I heard May's voice again.

“…Okay,” she said slowly, her tone shifting. “You’re not laughing. That’s new. What’s wrong? How have you been coping since you got there? Are you okay?”

That was all it took.

“I know you’re nonchalant,” I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound firm. “I know you’re carefree and you don’t really care about people unless it affects you. But I’m literally in a lion’s den, May. You promised to check up on me daily. You said I was your only family. How can a little promise like that be so hard for you to keep?”

Silence.

Then, rushed words spilled out from the other end. “Alina… I’m so sorry. That was bad. Really bad. I didn’t mean to abandon you like that. I swear, I’m so sorry. I was insensitive and stupid.” She exhaled sharply. “Please forgive me. Tell me… are you okay?”

I swallowed hard and began to talk.

I told her everything. The mansion. The hotel. The intimidating staff. The strange protection clause. Jethro’s smiles that felt like traps. And finally, the encounter in the hallway—the whisper, the order, the certainty in his voice.

By the time I finished, May was already furious.

“Are you hearing yourself?” May snapped. “Alina, you can’t keep letting this guy toss you around like a rag doll. If you want to survive there, weakness is not an option. You need to grow claws.”

I closed my eyes as May continued. “You have to start thinking. Think strategies. Survival strategies. You need to show him there’s a line he can’t cross. Men like that push until you push back.”

Her voice softened suddenly. “Oh, my Alina… What if he wants to sleep with you tonight? You’ve already been through hell once. You can’t go through that trauma again.”

That was when I broke.

Tears streamed down my face as I curled up on the bed. “Please,” I sobbed. “Just tell me what to do. Give me something. I’m so tired, May. I don’t think my soft heart can survive this anymore.” I gave in, finally looking for something that could help me out of this distress.

May went quiet for a moment, thinking.

Then she said carefully, “Okay. I have an idea. A risky one but it might be your only way out.”

For some seconds, I felt the tears dry from my eyes, and I sniffed. “What is it?”

“A ninety-day trial,” May said. “You get Jethro to fall for you. For real. If he does, that debt disappears. He accepts you, and you’re safe.”

I frowned through my tears. “Fall for me? May, he’s never home. He’s always busy. And he’s… stone-hearted. Besides, I can't have any relationship with a guy like Jethro”

May chuckled dryly. “Men like that aren’t immune. They’re just bored. And trust me—you’ll start tonight.”

“Tonight?” I exclaimed, a bit shocked at the timing.

“Yes. The club,” May said firmly. “That’s your first move. Get him to look at you differently. Not as a burden. Not as a servant, or a poor girl tied to him through a contract but as a woman.”

The call ended shortly after.

I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. After a long moment, I let out a slow, shaky sigh.

“…The club it is then.”