That strikes a nerve. Not because I want her—hell, I barely know her—but because of how easily people decide who belongs where. I’m already marked, and I haven’t even been here that long.
Before I can say anything else, Mary, one of the housekeepers, steps into the kitchen. “Can someone help me move the linens to the west wing?” she calls out to no one in particular.
“I’ll do it,” I say way too fast, making Elise snort.
“Volunteering for laundry now? You must really be bored.” Elise is clearly enjoying my pain.
“Better than dishes.” I grin, wiping my hands on my apron. “Just trying to earn my keep.”
Rob mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot likeidiot, but I ignore him as I walk past him and follow Mary.
The estate stretches for what seems like forever, with endless corridors of polished wood and chandeliers that glow as if lit from beneath. Every step echoes beneath my shoes, and the air smells faintly of lemon polish.
I tell myself that I’m not looking for her. That I’m here just to do the damn linens.
But when I turn the corner and see her—everything in me stills.
Victoria stands by a tall window, sunlight slipping through the sheer curtains, turning her hair to gold. She’s laughing. It’s soft, real, and unguarded. It fills me with a sensation I haven’t felt in years.
Warmth.
She turns her head slightly, and our eyes meet.
The world goes silent.
For a heartbeat, it’s just her and me.
Two unlikely friends caught in each other’s orbits, staring at the other like we’ve known each other for a lifetime. Her expression is curious and cautious, but there’s a spark there, too. A flicker that shouldn’t be there at all. Not for a man like me.
And then she smiles.
It’s small. Hesitant. But it hits harder than it should.
Knocking the wind right out of my lungs. Something about her makes my chest tighten, makes me suddenly aware of every wrong thing about this moment.
I don’t smile back. I can’t. Not with Mary so close.
More footsteps sound down the hallway, and with that, the spell is broken.
Rob again.Of course.
He strides past, surveying me, and leans in close so only I can hear him. “I told you,” he says under his breath. “Stay away.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
He drills me with a stare that says I’m not fooling anyone. “You’re looking. That’s enough.”
I clench my jaw. “You sound like her bodyguard.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
He grabs one end of the linens, forcing me to pick up the other. I follow him down the hall, though my eyes still linger back toward her.
Victoria raises a hand in a soft wave—half shy, half brave.
But I turn away before she can finish it.
Not out of pride. Out of survival.
