Except there’s nothing to clean.
I run a hand down my apron and select the vacuum first. I’m still shoeless and haven’t felt any grit through my socks, so I’m confident the place is clean.
Which is surprising, considering no cleaners have been allowed in here before.
So Roan’s really been handling all of this himself. And hell, that revelation actually throws me.
A flicker of intrigue winds through me as I try to figure out what kind of man does that. I don’t know anyone in his position who would bother cleaning when he has maids at his disposal—unless he’s hiding something he doesn’t want others to discover.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
My heart rate picks up with anticipation as I start the vacuum and begin methodically working through the living area. I turn off the chandelier—the natural light coming in from those massive windows more than enough—and that’s when a glint of white catches my eye.
What the?—
My lips part in shock when I spot the tiny camera tucked right beside the chandelier. The clever placement means no one would ever notice it with the light on. I go still, a cold ripple sliding through me as I wonder where else there might be cameras.
I force myself to keep vacuuming casually, but now I’m hyperaware, cataloging every corner, every angle.
I drift into the kitchen like nothing’s wrong—studiously avoiding even glancing at the counter where I fell apart in his arms—and immediately spot two cameras positioned at different angles. Back in the living room, two more cover nearly every inch of the space. And upstairs it’s the same story: several cameras, careful placements, overlapping views.
What the hell? Even the main mansion doesn’t have thislevel of monitoring. Did he install all these before moving in, or did he add them specifically because I’d be living here?
Either way, this changes everything.
My heart pounds, every emotion I have tripping over itself. There’s absolutely no way I can snoop around without being caught on camera. Which also means I can no longer sneak out at night without him knowing.
Fuck.
The walls start closing in on me as I start to hyperventilate. I can’t do this. Can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.
Shaking, I switch off the vacuum and bolt upstairs to my room, slipping on my sneakers before racing back down and out the door, slamming it behind me.
I jog along the path without looking back, making a beeline straight for the main mansion. Just as I burst inside, Afrim steps out from the hallway leading to his office.
He takes in my disheveled appearance with a small frown. “Mia, what are you doing here?”
Desperation takes over, and my hand shoots out to grab his. “Can I come back here? Roan’s house is spotless—there’s literally nothing for me to do. I want to move back.”
Please. Please let me come back.
Afrim turns my hand in his, patting the back of it in that paternal way of his. “That’s our Roan. Did you know I never had to nag him to clean his room when he was a young boy? He likes his things in place and clean. You’ll enjoy working there.”
No. No, that’s not the answer I need.
I gulp, realizing he’s not going to let me come back here.Quick, switch tactics. “Then I can go from the maids’ quarters. I don’t need to actually live in his house. I can clean it perfectly well from my old room.”
“Mia,” Afrim’s frown deepens. “Did something happen?”
My cheeks burn when I think about what actually happened—the thing I should be worried about but my bodydefinitely isn’t complaining. I slip my hand out of Afrim’s and take a step back. “No, nothing happened. I–I just don’t like sudden changes like this.”
“You’ll get used to it in no time, you’ll see.” He smiles at me, warm and reassuring and completely unhelpful.
That’s the thing—I don’twantto get used to it. I can’t.
A feeling of crushing helplessness weighs on my shoulders like physical chains. When Kayla’s captor reaches out demanding results, what will I have to show? Still nothing. Still no new leads on her location either.
And what do I have? Just footage of me vacuuming… and making out with my target.
