He Doesn't Seem So Bad

Lydia

I woke the following morning with the strange realization that I had slept through the entire night without once expecting someone to shout my name. The mattress beneath me was softer than anything I had known, the room was warm, and sunlight filtered through the curtains in pale golden strips that made everything look almost peaceful. For several minutes, I remained beneath the blankets, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling while yesterday returned to me piece by piece: Magnus’s arms around me, his quiet voice promising that I would not be treated as property, and the humiliating truth that some part of me had believed him. That frightened me more than his reputation ever had, because trusting a man who had bought me felt like stepping willingly into a fire and hoping it would not burn.

I dressed slowly and spent far too long deciding whether I should leave the bedroom without waiting for permission. Eventually, hunger won the argument, and I made my way toward the dining hall with the cautious determination of someone entering a place where she had no idea what rules applied. Two omega maids were arranging flowers along the corridor when they noticed me, and their nervous smiles quickly became warmer as I approached. One of them was petite, with round cheeks and an expressive face that made it impossible to hide what she was thinking, while the other was taller, graceful, and carried herself with the confidence of someone who had spent years navigating the mansion. “Good morning, my lady,” the shorter one greeted me, dipping into an awkward curtsy that made me smile despite myself. “Please, don't do that,” I said, and her eyebrows rose before she laughed softly. “Then what should we call you?” she asked, and I found myself answering, “Lydia would be perfectly fine.”

“My name is Kiekie,” she announced, pointing at herself with a grin, while the taller maid gave another small curtsy and introduced herself as Ginny. I repeated their names, strangely pleased by how ordinary the exchange felt, and asked whether they had always worked at the mansion. Kiekie explained that she had been there for nearly three years, while Ginny had arrived shortly afterward, and their easy conversation made the enormous house feel slightly less intimidating. When I admitted that I still had trouble finding my way around, Ginny laughed and said that even some older servants occasionally took the wrong staircase when they were distracted. Kiekie immediately added that she had once carried fresh towels into Lord Magnus’s study instead of his bedroom and had been too embarrassed to admit her mistake, which made Ginny laugh so loudly that I had to cover my mouth to hide my own amusement.

“You are both surprisingly comfortable talking about him,” I remarked as we continued toward the dining hall. Kiekie glanced at Ginny before lowering her voice and explaining that Lord Magnus frightened people who did not know him, but the servants who had stayed with him for years understood that his reputation was not the whole truth. “He is strict, yes, and nobody wants to disappoint him,” she said, “but he has never allowed anyone to mistreat the servants simply because they are omegas.” Ginny nodded thoughtfully and added that Magnus had once punished a wealthy guest for insulting an omega maid in front of the entire household. I listened with unexpected interest, wondering how the same man could be feared as a ruthless Alpha while quietly protecting people who possessed far less power than he did.

Kiekie gave me a sideways glance before asking whether I had slept well, and something about the question made me hesitate. “Yes,” I admitted eventually, although my cheeks warmed when I remembered whose arms had surrounded me during the night. Ginny noticed immediately and smiled with barely concealed amusement, while Kiekie leaned closer and asked whether Lord Magnus had been kind to me. “He was,” I answered, surprising myself with the honesty. “He was much kinder than I expected.” Kiekie exchanged another knowing look with Ginny, and I narrowed my eyes at both of them before warning them not to start imagining things that did not exist. Their laughter followed us into the dining hall, and for the first time since arriving at Bridgevine, I felt something dangerously close to comfort.

Breakfast was already waiting, but I barely noticed the food because Magnus was seated at the far end of the table with several documents spread before him. His dark shirt emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, while his sleeves were pushed toward his elbows, revealing strong forearms that made my attention linger longer than it should have. He looked up when I entered, and the intensity of his gray eyes immediately reminded me that this was the same man whose presence could make an entire room fall silent. Yet when his gaze settled on me, there was something different beneath the authority, something quieter that made my stomach tighten in a way I refused to understand.

“You're late,” he said, though there was no real irritation in his voice. I glanced toward the enormous clock on the wall and then back at him, wondering whether breakfast had begun at some ridiculous hour. “I didn't know there was a schedule,” I replied, taking the seat nearest the end of the table. Magnus closed the document in front of him and studied me with an expression that made me suddenly conscious of every movement I made. “There isn't,” he admitted, and the faint amusement in his voice made me realize he had deliberately teased me. I frowned at him while Kiekie and Ginny quietly left the room, and his mouth curved into the smallest smile before he returned his attention to his papers.

“I spoke with your maids,” I said after a moment, partly because the silence was becoming unbearable and partly because I wanted to know whether he would object. Magnus looked at me again and said that he had noticed, then asked whether I had enjoyed their company. “They are the first people here who have made me feel normal,” I confessed, and his expression softened enough for me to notice. He told me that I was free to spend time with whoever made me comfortable, because he had no intention of locking me away merely because I lived under his roof. I lowered my gaze to my plate, embarrassed by how much his words affected me, and quietly admitted that I still did not know what being his mistress was supposed to mean.

Magnus leaned back in his chair, his attention fixed entirely on me as he explained that he did not expect me to suddenly become someone else simply because I had entered his household. He said the title existed because the arrangement between us had a name, but I was still Lydia, and he wanted me to keep the parts of myself that had existed before him. His words unsettled me because they were almost too considerate for a man I had spent my entire life hearing described as brutal. “You make it difficult to hate you,” I finally confessed, and a slow smile appeared across his face as he answered that perhaps he was not trying hard enough.

The heat that rushed into my face was unbearable, and I immediately became fascinated by my breakfast. Magnus rose from his chair and walked around the table until he stood beside me, close enough for his scent to surround me without him touching me. “Look at me,” he murmured, and although every instinct told me to resist, I lifted my eyes toward his. The quiet intensity between us changed the air, making my pulse race while his gaze moved slowly across my face. “You are still afraid of what this means,” he said, and I admitted that I was, because I had never been given a choice about anything important in my life.

His expression became unexpectedly gentle as he told me that he would not demand an answer from me today, tomorrow, or any day until I was ready to decide what I wanted from him. I wanted to believe him, yet the attraction I felt whenever he stood this close frightened me because it made the boundaries between resentment and desire increasingly difficult to see. “And what do you want?” I asked, almost whispering the question. Magnus's eyes darkened as he considered me, and when he finally answered, his voice was low enough to make warmth crawl beneath my skin. “For now, I want you to stop looking at me as though you expect me to hurt you.”

I should have laughed at the absurdity of that request, considering the stories I had heard about him and the circumstances that had brought me here, but instead I found myself studying his face. There was something deeply lonely about the man beneath all that authority, something I could sense without understanding, and my curiosity grew stronger than my fear. When he finally stepped away, the sudden distance felt strangely disappointing, which annoyed me more than anything else that morning. I watched him return to his documents, realizing that my new life at Bridgevine was not going to be simple, because the man I had every reason to resent was becoming the one person I desperately wanted to understand.

I hated that realization, yet I could not deny it. Somewhere between his gentleness and his commanding presence, Magnus had begun to occupy a corner of my thoughts that I was not ready to surrender.