His to Keep

Chapter 2: Arlo’s POV – Shadows in the HallThe hall smelled of polished wood and faint citrus, like every other evening. Arlo moved quietly, cleaning the lower wing as he always did, but tonight, every sound seemed magnified. The soft clip of his shoes on marble, the distant shuffle of servants in the kitchen—each noise startled him like it might signal a punishment.He couldn’t shake the memory of the stables. Julien’s hand. Julien’s lips. And the weight of blue eyes on him—Nikolai’s eyes—sharp, precise, lingering. Arlo’s stomach knotted every time he pictured them, like fire curling under his ribs.He pressed his hands harder against the mop handle, leaning into the rhythm to distract himself. It’s nothing. It was just a dare. It meant nothing.But that wasn’t true.Arlo had felt something—something he didn’t fully understand yet. His body had betrayed him, heat rising in places he shouldn’t think about. And now, the thought of Nikolai, standing silently in the doorway, had twisted

Chapter 4: Arlo’s POV – Eyes on MeThe morning sun crept through the high windows of the estate, scattering patterns across the polished marble floors. Arlo moved quietly, broom in hand, his thoughts elsewhere. He had barely slept last night, haunted by the memory of Nikolai’s gaze in the stables. It wasn’t fear anymore. Not exactly. It was… something he couldn’t name. Something tight and burning in his chest whenever he thought of the other boy.He tried to ignore it. Tried to bury it beneath the rhythm of sweeping and dusting. But even as he worked, he felt the weight of unseen eyes, the sense that someone was observing him, cataloging his every movement.No one watches the servants this closely.And yet, Nikolai had.He caught a glimpse of movement at the far end of the hall. Just a flicker, just a shadow. His stomach twisted. Not again.But it was real. Nikolai was there, leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed, blue eyes fixed on him. Arlo froze mid-sweep, heart hammer

Chapter 6: Arlo’s POV – A Weight in the AirArlo moved through the hallways like a shadow, careful and silent, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that the house had changed overnight. Every step he took seemed heavier, every breath measured. He could feel it before he even saw him: the weight of blue eyes tracing his every movement, precise, unyielding.He didn’t look up. He didn’t want to. And yet, he did.Nikolai was there, leaning casually against the doorway to the wing, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The moment their eyes met, Arlo felt it again—the pull, sharp and undeniable, like a tide dragging him under.Why do I feel like this?He shook his head, trying to focus on the task in front of him. Dusting the banisters. Polishing the steps. Straightening the small vases that lined the hall. But it was impossible. Every movement, every small adjustment, seemed amplified under Nikolai’s gaze.He caught himself glancing sideways, pretending it was accidental, but it wasn’t. He wa

Chapter 8: Arlo’s POV – Lines You Don’t CrossArlo woke before the bells.He didn’t usually. Not this early.But sleep had been thin, restless—broken by fragments of yesterday that refused to settle. A voice. A pause. The way the air had felt too tight to breathe in.Careful doesn’t mean correct.He pushed the thought away the moment it surfaced.There wasn’t time for that.The corridors were still dim when he stepped out, sleeves already rolled, cloth tucked into his pocket. If he started early, he could finish more. If he finished more, there would be less reason for anyone to look too closely.Less reason for him to look.Arlo moved quickly down the hall, setting his pace before his thoughts could catch up.Work first.Always work first.By the time the rest of the house began to stir, he had already finished the upper railings and moved on to the lower steps. His hands worked steadily, faster than usual, but not sloppy. Never sloppy.He couldn’t afford mistakes.Not now.Not when

Chapter 10: Arlo’s POV – The Weight of EyesThe morning sun had barely begun to stretch across the estate when Arlo arrived in the stables. His hands were already raw from polishing and cleaning, but there was no pause today—he couldn’t afford one. Not with Nikolai’s presence lingering in his mind, not after yesterday.He moved quickly, methodical, his focus sharper than ever. Each stroke of the cloth, each sweep of the broom, each careful step across the uneven floor was a small anchor, keeping him tethered to reality. Work first. Always work first.Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the thought persisted:He could walk in at any moment.Arlo had learned the pattern. Sometimes, Nikolai stayed in the east wing; sometimes, he vanished entirely for hours, training or meetings with his father and uncle. And yet, when he appeared…Arlo froze, even if subtly, every time.---“Arlo,” came the low, measured voice from the shadows.He stiffened. One moment, he was dusting the saddle racks; the