SLATE POV

Slate 

I felt the shift in the air before the main doors even opened.

Z Mansion was always silent in the mornings, the kind of silence that swallowed footsteps and echoed power. But today… I sensed something different. A ripple. A disturbance.

Zayden had warned me the boy would come by noon, but I didn’t expect this—the tightening in my chest, the strange anticipation, the way my fingers stilled on the tablet I was holding.

Then the doorbell chimed.

I straightened immediately, shoulders squared, expression locked back into the calm, unreadable neutrality I wore like armor.

My job was simple:

Protect the mansion.

Protect Zayden’s interests.

And never, ever get distracted.

But when I opened the tall, gold-lined doors, distraction punched me in the lungs.

He stood there.

Aaron.

A little breathless from climbing the steps, clutching a backpack strapped too tightly to his shoulders, wearing an oversized sweater that swallowed his frame. His curls were messy, falling over his forehead, and his eyes—God—his eyes were wide and hesitant, like he was stepping into a world he didn’t belong in.

But he did.

Far more than he realized.

“Uh… hi?” he said softly. “I’m here for the interview.”

My throat tightened. I hated that reaction. It felt… weak. Human.

I forced myself to speak.

“You’re Aaron, I presume.”

My voice came out smooth. Controlled. Impenetrable.

He nodded.

For a second, just a second, I forgot to breathe. I had seen photos of him—Zayden always checked backgrounds thoroughly—but pictures were nothing like this. Nothing like him.

“Follow me,” I said.

I asked him to sit while I laid down the rules, my eyes were on the tablet reading out the rules but my mind was not. My mind continuously drifted to the part of his skin that the clothes didn’t cover.

He stared at me like he knew what I was thinking.

“You can start tomorrow, that’s if it gets approved,”

“If,” he asked, defiance edging in his voice.

I just had to ask the obvious question, “Do you always dress like this?”

“What? Do you have a problem with it?” he asked with a lot of sassiness in his tone.

“Not that,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“If this is your way of saying I look hot, well thanks. I have more at home. This is my most decent clothes,” he said rolling his eyes.

God, I wanted to fuck that sharp mouth so bad.

I’ll inform Mr Blackwell and I’ll get back to you” I said, almost at the entrance of the house. If I stayed two more minutes with him, I might not leave.

“When do I get to meet Mr Blackwell,” he said.

“You don't,” my tone was firm.

“At least tell me what he looks like, I mean he might become my employer,” He said.

“Private” I’m your Employer” I responded.

“So I don’t get to see him?” He pressed on.

“Goodnight  Aaron” I replied.

“You too slate,” He said 

I sent him the email the next morning informing him that he had been hired. He arrived at the mansion the next day, early as expected, and he looked so beautiful as usual. I showed him his room to unpack.

Dinner was seven and I already communicated that to him, the moment he stepped out of his room for dinner, my self-control almost snapped, it was only hanging by a thread.

“I guess you don’t know where the dinner table is,” I said.

“I don’t know where anything is,” he responded.

“I’ll take you on a house tour tomorrow” I replied 

“Isn’t this a little too much? I said. Gesturing at his outfit, He wasn’t making things easier for me.

He looked at me head to toe, assessing me that screamed “Really.”

He was really sassy.

I held out my hands for him and he grabbed them.

“Such a gentleman,” he said 

“You’re expected to be discreet,” I said with the wine glass at the edge of my lips.

“Yeah you have mentioned that before,” he said taking a piece of roasted duck.

“You're a lot of things,” I said and I regretted it almost immediately.

“Really, what I'm I then?” he said stuffing a chunk of huge meat into his mouth.

I could just get full watching him eat.

“Talkative, observant, hot” I blurted out.

The last part made him raise his head like I just stated the obvious.

He leaned back on the chair smiling, hot was not enough to describe him, he was perfectly made, perfectly made for me.

“Wow,” he was teasing me while sipping his wine.

“I'll be in touch, Mr Aaron. Also, breakfast is by eight.”

My tone was tight.

“I have tattoos too you know,” he said standing up to show me. I wanted to touch them, to kiss them, and know what they mean.

Instead, I hummed while walking towards the door, the only thing I could think about was bending him over the dinner table.

“Goodnight slate, I'll be expecting you,” he said.

I stared back one more time, if I looked back longer, I would be tempted to stay.