chapter 7

Chapter 7

Vincent’s POV

The night had been restless. The room felt too quiet, even with the hum of the house around me. The events of yesterday, the way her eyes locked with mine, lingered in the back of my mind. Lisa.

She was nothing special in the grand scheme of things, just another maid. But there was something in the way she stood in my presence, the way she tried not to look at me, that made her stand out. I couldn’t shake the thought of her.

The door creaked open, and she stepped inside, her eyes briefly meeting mine before looking away. She was holding a cleaning tray—broom, duster, and cloth, ready to do her job.

I watched her as she set the cleaning supplies down, the way her hands moved carefully, trying not to disturb the silence between us. She didn’t look at me directly. In fact, she kept her focus on the floor as if it was the most important thing in the room.

I couldn’t help but notice how graceful she was as she moved. Her long, dark hair fell in loose waves, a stark contrast to the crisp white maid’s uniform. Her figure was… distracting, though she didn’t seem to know it. Her waist was slender, her hips gently curved, and I had to force my eyes away from her to keep my thoughts in check.

“Why weren’t you at dinner last night?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.

Her fingers twitched as she began dusting the nearby shelf. “I wasn’t assigned to the kitchen, sir,” she replied, her voice calm but faintly nervous.

I leaned back slightly, studying her from my position near the window. “How long have you been working here?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“Two years,” she answered quickly, her focus still on her task.

“Two years,” I repeated, my eyes narrowing slightly. “And in two years, you’ve never tried to see me?”

Her shoulders tensed at the question, but she didn’t hesitate. “No, sir.”

She was honest. Or maybe just cautious. Either way, I appreciated the answer. She didn’t play games, unlike the others who lingered and hoped for my attention. She simply did her job.

what's your name?

"Lisa sir"

“Lisa,” I said, testing her name on my tongue.

Her head tilted slightly, her gaze flickering to mine for just a moment before she returned her attention to the task hand..

I stood there, watching her as she worked, caught in the strange mix of wanting to learn more about her and knowing I should stay far away.

She was almost finished, her movements deliberate and efficient, as if she wanted to finish and leave as soon as possible. But there was something else—something in the way she moved, a certain grace that made her stand out more than any of the other maids.

“Next time,” I said, my voice colder than I intended, “knock.”

Her head snapped up, startled by the command. For a brief moment, I saw something flicker in her eyes—embarrassment? Nerves? Then it was gone, replaced by the same polite, calm expression.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, she curtsied and made her way toward the door. As she turned the handle, I watched her. The way she held herself, that strange tension in the air whenever she was near—it was becoming impossible to ignore.

I was already irritated with myself for paying too much attention to a maid. But something about Lisa made it harder to just forget about her, and that bothered me more than I cared to admit.

As she disappeared through the door, I leaned back against the wall, the silence of the room settling over me once more.

I had to get control of myself.

But I didn’t want to.