Elora's POV
The last time Elora saw Adrian was the day she signed the contract.
He had been composed then, distant in a way that felt intentional. He explained the terms, watched her read every line, and said nothing unnecessary. When she signed, he simply nodded as though sealing a business deal with no personal weight attached to it.
After that, he vanished.
Her first week at the house passed quietly. The estate manager communicated through email, and instructions were clear. Groceries were delivered twice a week. Security systems were already in place. Everything ran with mechanical efficiency.
The house itself was enormous, with five bedrooms spread across two floors. She cleaned them in rotation, leaving the master bedroom for last because it demanded the most effort. It felt different from the others. Larger. More intimate. Less like a guest space and more like somewhere someone actually belonged.
By Friday afternoon, she was finishing her routine.
She tied her hair back and slipped on her headphones before entering the master bedroom. Music softened the silence that always lingered there. She stripped the sheets, replaced them with fresh linen, wiped down the nightstands, and vacuumed the thick rug beneath the bed.
She barely noticed the faint warmth in the air.
Steam drifted lazily from the half-open bathroom door.
She turned to grab the laundry basket.
And froze.
Adrian stood a few feet away.
A white towel hung securely around his waist, resting low against his hips. His skin was still damp, water trailing slowly down the length of his chest. His hair, darker when wet, was pushed back carelessly from his forehead.
For a moment, her mind refused to process the image.
She pulled her headphones off.
Her pulse jumped.
"What the hell are you doing here?" The question came out sharper than she intended, edged with disbelief.
He did not look startled. If anything, he looked mildly curious, as though observing her reaction was more interesting than the situation itself.
"This is one of my houses," he replied. "A vacation home."
The words took a moment to settle.
Her brows drew together. "Your house?"
He nodded once. "I decided to spend some time here."
She glanced toward the door, calculating the distance. When she moved in that direction, he shifted slightly, not touching her, but standing just enough in the doorway to make passing him uncomfortable.
Her heartbeat quickened.
"You didn't tell me it belonged to you, why would you leave out such crucial information," she said.
"You did not ask."
That answer irritated her more than she expected.
"I would not have taken this job if I knew," she admitted before she could stop herself.
A faint smile touched his mouth. "Exactly."
Silence filled the room. The music from her abandoned headphones played faintly against the mattress.
He stepped aside eventually, giving her a clear path to the door.
"I will not interfere with your work," he said evenly. "You are here because you need the job. That has not changed."
The reminder of her financial situation felt deliberate.
She straightened her shoulders. "This is still a workplace for me."
"And it is still my house," he replied without hostility.
There was something steady in his gaze that made her skin prickle. Not anger. Not desire displayed openly. Something quieter. More certain.
"You will be seeing more of me," he added.
The statement was calm, almost casual.
She did not respond.
She meant to look at the hallway.
She really did.
But her eyes betrayed her.
For the briefest second, her gaze dropped. Over the defined line of his collarbone. Down the damp planes of his chest. Lower, before she caught herself.
It was not intentional. It was instinct. He was standing there, shirtless, water still clinging to his skin. Any woman with working eyes would have noticed.
Realization hit her a second too late.
She snapped her gaze back up to his face.
He had seen it.
Something changed in his expression. Not a smile. Not amusement.
A flicker.
Slow. Dark. Satisfied in a way that unsettled her.
The air thickened.
Her cheeks warmed, and she hated that he could probably see it.
"I said move," she repeated, sharper now, trying to reclaim control of the moment.
His eyes did not leave hers. But they were different now. More aware. As though he had just confirmed something he had been waiting to see.
"You looked," he said quietly.
Her jaw tightened. "You are standing half naked in front of me."
"In my bedroom."
"That does not make it appropriate."
His head tilted slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle he was close to solving.
"You are not indifferent," he observed.
The accusation stirred anger in her chest. "Do not twist this."
"I am not twisting anything," he replied smoothly. "I am observing."
Her pulse thudded harder.
There it was again. That look in his eyes. Intent. Possessive. Not lust in its rawest form, but something deeper. Something that felt less physical and more deliberate.
It made her anxious in a way she could not explain.
She moved past him with her cleaning tools, trying to keep her steps measured despite the rapid thudding of her heart. She focused on the basket in her hands, the vacuum, anything to avoid looking at him again.
But her foot caught on the edge of the rug. She stumbled, almost tipping forward, and collided with him.
He caught her instantly. His hands pressed lightly against her waist, steadying her, holding her just a moment longer than necessary.
Elora's eyes widened, and she instinctively pushed against him, her hands grasping at his chest and shoulders. "Let go!" she hissed, struggling to break free.
He did not move immediately, letting her struggle for just a second before his lips curved into that calm, smug smile. "Seems like you can't keep your hands to yourself," he said softly, amusement lacing his tone.
Her cheeks flamed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. With a sharp shove, she wrenched herself free and darted toward the hallway, her cleaning tools clattering behind her.
"I'll come back to finish the room," she called over her shoulder, her voice tight but firm. "When you're done."
Adrian watched her retreat, his composure intact. His eyes lingered on the doorway long after she disappeared from view, a flicker of satisfaction hidden in the calmness of his gaze.