Elvie
The moment the heavy wooden door clicked shut, I pressed my back against it and cupped my burning cheeks with both hands.
What on earth was that?
Did I seriously just get butterflies from a two-second touch? I squeezed my eyes shut, groaning inwardly. Why on earth did I have to reach for the door handle at the exact same time he did? It was utterly mortifying.
I leaned my head back against the wood, trying to make sense of the storm in my chest. Was working here really going to be a good idea? Every time I tried to meet his gaze down in the kitchen, my mind went completely blank. His presence felt like an electric charge, buzzing right under my skin the second he stepped too close.
Out of all the scenarios I had run through my head before showing up here, I never could have guessed my employer would be Professor Reed. And I definitely didn’t expect him to be the kind of man who looked at me like he was slowly undressing my entire soul.
"Pull yourself together, Elvie," I whispered into the quiet room. "This is your chance to start fresh. Don’t mess it up."
Forcing my heavy legs forward, I took a proper look around. The room was massive, flooded with the soft gold of the setting sun. It was literally bigger than the tiny, forgotten storage room Asher’s parents had shoved me in for years. If you could even call that cold closet a room.
A quiet rumble in my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten since morning. He had mentioned food in the fridge, but the thought of going back downstairs and running into Cassian again was way too much for my fluttering nerves to handle. Going to sleep hungry sounded a thousand times safer.
I kicked off my worn-out shoes and dropped my small bag onto the floor. I would have to figure out a way to get the rest of my clothes from the mansion soon, because surviving on two oversized sweaters and a single pair of jeans wasn’t going to work for long.
Walking over to the queen-sized bed, I let myself fall backward onto the mattress. A soft, breathless smile slipped onto my lips. It was ridiculously comfortable, and the thick duvet wrapped around me like a cloud.
I sank deep into the pillows, pulling the covers up to my chin. Tonight, I was just going to sleep. I would keep my head down, do my job, avoid Cassian for the rest of my contract, and do my absolute best to ignore the crazy way my heart hammered every time his dark eyes caught mine.
**
It was ridiculous to think I was actually going to sleep in. The moment the clock hit five in the morning, my eyes snapped open. Years of being forced awake early at the mansion had carved the routine straight into my bones, and not even a cloud-like mattress could undo that.
I dragged myself out of bed, washed my face, and crept downstairs. The house was practically spotless. There wasn’t a single smudge on the stone counters or a grain of dust on the tables, but I found some cleaning supplies under the sink anyway. I spent the next hour recleaning surfaces just to keep my hands busy.
The place was massive, and walking through it made me wonder. How long had he actually lived here? Did he have a family? A wife, or kids tucked away somewhere in his past? There weren’t any personal photos on the walls just clean lines, dark wood, and high-end artwork.
By six-thirty, I found myself standing in front of a massive stainless-steel refrigerator. When I pulled it open, my mouth practically dropped. It was so well-stocked it looked like an entire grocery store was crammed inside—fresh produce, cured meats, juices, and imported jams.
"What am I even supposed to make?" I muttered to myself.
I had no idea what he liked or disliked. After going back and forth in my head, I settled on something safe: fluffy scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, toasted sourdough, and a small bowl of sliced berries.
I was just setting the last plate down on the dining table when the sound of heavy, footsteps echoed down the wooden stairs.
I turned around, wiping my hands on a dish towel, and completely froze.
He was freshly showered, his dark hair still slightly damp and neatly styled. He wore a crisp dark grey button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tailored trousers, and a watch that looked impossibly expensive.
He looked dangerously attractive. Sharp and commanding.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to break the spell before he caught me staring. "Good morning," I said, offering a small, hopeful smile.
"Morning," he replied. His voice was flat. Ice-cold. Completely stripped of the low, lingering warmth from last night.
I gestured nervously toward the set table. "I... I made breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you preferred, so I kept it simple, but—"
His eyes lingered on the table before he reached for the ceramic mug of coffee I had poured and set on the counter, and took a slow sip.
His brows pulled together for a fraction of a second before he set the cup down with a firm click. "I drink my coffee with a little bit of sugar,"
My eyes widened a bit. I hadn’t thought of that because usually I make Asher’s father coffee with no sugar so I automatically thought Cassian would like his that way too. My bad.
"And I don’t eat breakfast." He said surprising me more. I pressed my lips into a thin line, a quiet sting settling behind my ribs. "Okay... I’ll keep that in mind., Sir."
Cassian glanced down at his wristwatch, before looking up at me his face entirely unreadable. "Like I told you last night, you don’t need to do extra. Stick to basic cleaning, and handle dinner whenever your schedule allows. If I want something specific, I’ll let you know."
He picked up his leather briefcase, turning on his heel toward the foyer. Pausing at the doorway, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Turn off the lights when you leave, and don’t be late for class."
The front door opened, shut, and locked with a heavy click, leaving only the quietness of the house behind.
I stood completely still in the middle of the big living room, looking down at the warm, steam-fading plates on the table. My stomach twisted into confusion and bitterness.
What was that? Where on earth was the Cassian from yesterday?