The warning

The security gate slid open with a low hum as Elara stepped through, holding her small handbag close. It was only her second day in Damien Kael’s estate, and she had been trusted to run to town for errands. Trust. Or maybe a test. Either way, she wanted to do it well.

On her way back, the guards at the booth turned to look at her. Both wore black uniforms, their badges glinting in the late sun. One was older, tall, with dark hair and sharp eyes that lingered too long. The other was younger, broad in the shoulders, and his stare never left her legs.

“Miss Elara,” the older one said smoothly. “Back already?”

Elara gave a polite smile. “Mr. Kael asked me to collect the dry cleaning before seven.”

The younger man said nothing, but his gaze was heavy. The maid dress she wore felt too fitted now, the heat of the sun making her skin prickle.

“You’re very beautiful,” the older guard added, his tone was too casual.

Elara blinked. Her smile stayed, but her chest tightened. No one had ever called her beautiful. At the convent, no one noticed her at all. She had been hidden under dull dresses and silence. Now, in heels and silk, she felt exposed.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, meaning it, though unsure how to take it.

He grinned wider. She walked away without noticing the hunger in his eyes.

~~~~

Inside the mansion, the halls were still. Elara’s steps echoed on the marble. Her heart beat faster and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the guards or because of something new rising in her chest—an awareness that she was no longer unseen.

~~~~

She entered Damien’s study with the dry cleaning draped over her arm. Three black suits, neat and well pressed. She knocked gently.

“Come in.”

His voice was low, smooth but commanding. It made her stomach twist.

Damien sat behind his desk, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled back. A glass of whiskey in one hand, papers in the other. He didn’t look up until she hung the suits on the rack.

“Any trouble?” he asked.

“No. The cleaners had it ready.”

His gaze lifted and locked on hers.

“You walked back alone?”

“Yes.”

“And the men at the gate? Did they say anything?”

She hesitated. She didn’t want to sound dramatic. “One of them said I was… beautiful.”

Damien’s jaw grew firm. He leaned back, swirling the drink in his glass.

“And what did you say?”

“I thanked him. I thought he meant it kindly.”

A sharp look flickered across his face. Half amused, half cold.

“You think men like that mean kindness?”

Her lips parted. “I… I don’t know.”

“No.” His voice dropped, louder. “They don’t.”

He stood, slow and deliberate, and stepped toward her. Every step felt harder.

“You still believe this is the convent. That words are just words.” His eyes bored into her. “But you need to understand something, Elara. A girl like you doesn’t go unseen.”

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I didn’t say it was your fault.”

He reached out, catching a strand of her hair between his fingers. The simple touch stole her breath.

“You need to learn your effect,” he said softly.

Then he let go and turned to the window, his back to her.

“I’ll deal with those securities,” he muttered. “But you’ll change after dinner. Wear something less inviting.”

Elara glanced down at the uniform. Was that why the men stared?

“Yes, Damien,” she whispered.

But Inside her, something moved. She could still feel his fingers in her hair, a touch that refused to fade.

Later, she bathed in scented water, the silk robe she slipped into too soft, too rich. Passing a mirror, she froze. The reflection wasn’t the girl from the convent. This girl was something else.

At dinner, Damien’s eyes were already waiting when she entered.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I was bathing.”

He gestured for her to sit beside him. His hand brushed the back of her chair, a small but clear sign of ownership.

Dinner was quiet, but the air between them was thick. Every move she made—the lift of her glass, the cross of her legs—pulled his eyes to her.

“Did you wear the perfume I left for you?” he asked suddenly.

Her heart skipped. “Yes. I thought you left it for me.”

“I wanted to see if it suited your skin.”

She flushed. “And?”

He leaned closer, breathing her in. His voice dropped, rough and deep. “Too sweet. Too innocent.”

Her pulse hammered as he leaned back again, calm, as if he hadn’t just unraveled her.

___

That night, as she walked back to her room, her legs felt heavy. Not with tiredness, but with the weight of him—his eyes, his voice, the way he made her feel wanted and watched all at once.

And that scared her most of all.

Because Damien Kael was the one man she thought would never notice her. And yet, he was noticing too much.

And Elara? She wasn’t sure she wanted him to stop.