Chapter 5: Strange Warmth

IRIS

A loud, aggressive banging on the door jarred me out of sleep. I groaned, dragging myself up to sit as Agatha’s sharp voice cut straight through the wood.

"Get up! Come out here right now, Iris!"

My mind scrambled for a second before reality hit me. I wasn't at the orphanage anymore. I jumped out of bed, smoothed down my nightclothes, and yanked the door open. Agatha stood there, her face tight and annoyed.

"Maids get up by five AM in this house," she snapped, crossing her arms. "You need to set the alarm on your phone for it. I won't be coming down this hallway to wake you up every day. Everything in the main house has to be completely set and in place before the family wakes up. Breakfast is at seven AM unfailingly."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "I don’t have a phone, Agatha."

Agatha stopped. She stared at me, her eyebrows shooting up in pure shock. "You don't have a phone? Where on earth did you crawl out from?" She didn't even give me a second to answer. She turned on her heel and started walking away. "Join me in the sitting room. We need to clean the house. Now."

I rushed back inside my room, washed my face, pulled on my clean light blue uniform, and ran out to catch up with her.

By the middle of the morning, I had already swept and dusted the entire downstairs floor. I worked my way through the long hallways, the formal dining room, and finally into the massive sitting room where I was now pushing a heavy mop across the dark floor.

I hadn't seen Agatha since. I wondered where she was or what she was doing. She hadn't gone outside yet, which meant the yard work was going to fall on me. I looked out the massive windows. Thank the Lord the compound wasn't very dirty today—just light work—but the size of the estate land was exhausting to think about.

As I pushed the mop, the sharp click of heels and soft footsteps echoed from the grand staircase.

I looked up. Savannah and Agatha were coming down together.

A sudden spike of terror struck through my body. The moment I saw Savannah, my hands began to shake slightly against the wooden mop handle. I gripped the stick with desperation, trying to force my fingers to stay still. I still couldn't forget the intense pressure she put me through yesterday. My mind scrambled, praying silently that she wouldn't look at me, that she wouldn't have any reason to speak to me today.

Savannah reached the bottom of the stairs and instantly hissed, her eyes darting toward me.

"Be fast and get out of my sight," she snapped.

I managed a quick, submissive nod and immediately looked down, moving the mop faster across the floor.

Savannah didn't lower her voice as she turned toward Agatha. "My daughter’s birthday is in a few days. We need all hands on deck to give my princess the grandest birthday party." She paused, her cold gaze shifting back to lock onto me. "Hey. Church girl."

I froze, my heart stopped beating for a minute.

"Do not dare slack off and ruin my daughter's party," Savannah warned loudly, her tone sharp. "If you ruin it, I will have your head. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Madam," I muttered, my voice small.

Grateful that I was finally done mopping, I lifted my bucket, turned away from her glare, and fled the room as fast as I could.

Later on, Agatha and I moved through the rest of the morning duties in silence. I didn't see Eli at all that morning. He wasn't downstairs when I brought the trays to the dining room. Only Madam Paisley was sitting at the long table, and she treated me like I was air, never once acknowledging that I was there.

As the hours passed, I felt a deep sense of relief that Savannah hadn't assigned me another impossible task like the garden beds. I made sure to stay alert, actively avoiding the woman and making sure I never appeared in her presence without a cloth or a broom in my hand.

The day was turning out to be much better than the previous one, except for the afternoon when I had to slice some fruit for the old woman.

Later that night, the kitchen was finally quiet. I wiped down my hands after washing the last of the dinner dishes and was just about to leave the kitchen to retire for the night when Agatha’s voice called me back.

She gestured toward a cup of hot, steaming coffee sitting on a silver tray. "Take this to the Master’s study."

My stomach dropped. I stared at the tray, wanting nothing more than to say no.

"I can't stand that man’s intense gaze at me," Agatha admitted, her voice dropping into a stressed whisper. "I'm too tired to function under that kind of nervousness tonight. Just do it."

The rejection formed clearly in my mind. “I am terrified of him too,” I told her silently. “I can't stand under his gaze without melting.” But I couldn't say the words out loud. I was the junior maid.

I swallowed my fear, stepped forward, and lifted the tray.

Following Agatha’s previous directions, I walked down the long, quiet hallway beneath the grand stairway. This was the exact same corridor where Eli had stepped out of the room last night and caught me. Just thinking about the memory made a sudden, fierce heat rush straight to my cheeks.

I gripped the handles of the tray tighter, mentally repeating my plan. I was going to walk in, drop the coffee on his desk, and walk right back out without looking at him.

I stopped at the door, took a breath, and knocked gently. "Sir, I brought your coffee," I announced.

I pushed the door open. Eli wasn't sitting down. He was standing only a few feet away from the entrance, right by the edge of his massive desk. His back was turned to me, a phone pressed hard against his ear.

The moment I caught sight of him, my eyes automatically devoured his frame. Against everything I had been taught, my gaze tracked down his back, staring at the round, firm shape of his buttocks beneath the dark fabric of his trousers. The material was held tight by a thick leather belt, his crisp shirt tucked perfectly into the waist.

Eli suddenly turned around. His dark eyes hit mine, but he didn't stop talking into the phone. He simply waved a hand toward a nearby leather couch, gesturing for me to sit while he continued listening to the person on the other end of the line.

“No,” I protested silently, my mind screaming at me to just put the cup down and run. I don't need to stay. I just want to leave the coffee on the desk. He doesn't need me here.

But my body wouldn't listen to my panic. My legs moved on their own, walking over to the couch. I sat down on the edge of the cushion, trying desperately to look at the carpet, trying not to stare at him.

Eli walked around the massive wood desk, sliding into his leather executive chair. His profile was right in front of my face now. He wasn't looking at me—his attention was entirely on his phone call, and because he wasn't watching, I found myself staring. This time, the pull was too strong. I couldn't look away.

“He is so handsome,” the thought popped into my head, unbidden and sinful.

My eyes traced every single line of his face. I looked at his straight nose, the thin, firm line of his lips, and the sharp jawline that carried a dark dust of freshly shaved hair. Then my gaze moved to his eyes—those impossibly black eyes that looked like they could see through everything, and up to his thick brows and full, dark hair.

A sudden, intense heat pooled deep in my belly. My private parts clenched painfully hard, a sharp ache throbbing inside me. I wasn't even moving, I wasn't doing anything, but I didn't know how to control the sensation. My nipples hardened instantly, tightening against the thin light blue fabric of my uniform.

Then, I felt it. That strange, warm wetness began to slick against my underwear again.

God, what am I doing? What is wrong with me?

Just then, Eli muttered an "okay" into the receiver and pulled the phone away from his ear, ending the call. He tossed the device onto the desk and turned his full attention directly toward me.

The moment his dark eyes locked onto mine, my entire body came alive, a fresh wave of warmth blooming between my thighs.

"Iris, right?" he said, his voice deep and rumbling in the quiet room.

I nodded quickly, a small, choked sound escaping my throat. "Yes, sir."

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," Eli said, his tone blunt. "Place the coffee on the desk and leave."

I stood up immediately, my knees shaking. I carried the tray over to the desk, focusing every ounce of my energy on my hands, praying so hard that the liquid wouldn't spill and embarrass me. I set th cup down onto the desk. No spill.

I turned around, taking a step toward the door. “I'm almost out,” I told myself, a spark of relief hitting my chest. “Almost out.”

"Fuck."

The sharp, angry curse cut through the air behind me. My entire body tensed up. I stopped in my tracks and began to turn my head back around, but Eli’s hand shot out, his palm facing me.

"Don't move," he ordered.

I froze instantly, my back still facing him, my eyes glued to the wooden door just a few feet away.

"Is that a dampened wetness spot on your dress?" Eli asked.

My breath caught. I frowned, lost for words, my mind scrambling to understand what he was looking at. But he didn't wait for me to find my voice.

"Are you that horny and aroused from watching me, Iris?"

“What?” The word screamed inside my brain. Shock and a sudden, fierce panic made me whip around to face him, but the moment I saw his expression, my head went dizzy. Eli pushed his heavy leather chair back. He stood up, his massive frame towering over the desk.

My eyes widened in horror.

"W—what... what are you... talking about, sir..." I stuttered, my voice trembling badly as he stepped around the desk and started walking directly toward me. My legs retreated on instinct, my shoes backing up against the floor as he closed the distance.