Chapter Two: The Dinner
The scent of roasted meat and rosemary wafted through the hallway as Elena followed Marla to the dining room. Her room had been simple but elegant, with dark wood furniture and burgundy curtains. A strange sense of luxury blanketed the air, stifling and thick.
Now, dressed in dry clothes lent to her—an ivory blouse and a black skirt—Elena felt like she was being paraded into something she wasn't prepared for.
The dining room was enormous. A long mahogany table stretched down the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting soft gold light onto the polished surfaces.
Lucien sat at the head of the table, a glass of red wine cradled in his long fingers. He didn't look up when she entered.
Marla pulled out a chair across from him.
"Sit," Lucien said simply.
She did, feeling his eyes finally land on her like a weight.
"You look... presentable."
"Thank you."
A quiet clatter of silverware. A second servant brought in plates—roast duck, potatoes, and a delicate salad sprinkled with pomegranate seeds.
They ate in silence for several minutes. Elena wasn't sure if she should talk first. Her stomach was grateful for the food, but her nerves buzzed.
Lucien finally spoke. "Tell me something real about yourself."
She hesitated. "What do you want to know?"
"Not what I want. What you want to share. What's the worst thing you've ever done, Elena?"
She almost choked on her water.
"I—excuse me?"
He watched her, unblinking. "Everyone has something they bury. What's yours?"
Elena placed her fork down. Her appetite vanished.
"I stole," she said softly.
He raised a brow. "What did you steal?"
"Money. From my old boss. He didn't pay me for three months, and I took what I was owed."
Lucien nodded slowly, as if cataloguing her answer.
"And did it make you feel better?"
"No," she whispered.
He leaned forward. "Good. Guilt is what separates us from monsters."
She didn't know what to say to that.
Dinner ended quietly. Lucien stood, his eyes flicking toward her.
"Be ready at six a.m. sharp. We begin tomorrow."
He left the room without a glance back.
---
Hours passed.
Elena lay in bed, staring at the carved ceiling above her. Every creak in the old mansion made her jump. Outside, wind howled against the windows.
She couldn't sleep.
Not with the way Lucien had looked at her. Not with the west wing pressing on her mind like a forbidden fruit.
Some doors shouldn't be opened.
But what was behind them?
She sat up.
No. Don't be stupid. Obey the rules. Keep your head down. Get paid.
Still…
Her feet touched the cold floor before she fully decided.
She crept into the hallway, the silence of the house wrapping around her like a second skin.
Her steps were quiet, slow.
She passed the grand staircase, the portraits, the flickering sconces, until she reached the end of the hall—the west wing. A heavy wooden door stood between her and whatever lay on the other side.
She stared at it for a long time.
Her hand reached for the knob.
Before she could touch it—
"You're not very good at following instructions."
Lucien's voice was like ice in her veins.
Elena turned slowly, guilt rising like bile. He stood at the other end of the hallway, barefoot, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His presence filled the space like smoke.
"I—I wasn't going to open it."
"No?" He walked toward her, slow and deliberate. "Then what were you doing, Elena?"
She couldn't look away from him. "I was... curious."
"Curiosity gets people hurt."
"I wasn't trying to—"
He stepped closer, now inches away. She could see the pulse in his neck, the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. His gaze didn't waver.
"I give you a place to sleep. Food. A job. And the first thing you do is break the one rule I gave you."
"I didn't mean to disrespect you."
His hand rose, and for a terrifying second she thought he might touch her. But he only pressed his palm to the door behind her, leaning in.
"You're a guest here, Elena. But this house? It remembers. It listens. It punishes."
The heat of his breath grazed her cheek.
"You don't want to be punished, do you?"
Her heart pounded. "No."
He stepped back. The cold air rushed between them like a gasp.
"Go to bed. You'll need your strength."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving her rooted to the floor, shaken and breathless.
---
The morning came too quickly.
A knock on her door pulled her from sleep.
Marla stood there, brisk and unreadable. "He's waiting in the study."
Elena dressed quickly and made her way down. Lucien sat behind his desk, reading. When he looked up, he said nothing, only gestured for her to sit.
"Your job starts now. I expect you to be efficient, organized, and invisible when needed. You'll manage my calendar, correspondence, and ensure no one disturbs me during my private hours."
"Private hours?"
"Between ten p.m. and dawn. Unless the house is on fire, do not knock. Understood?"
"Yes."
He stood and handed her a thick leather-bound planner. "Everything you need is in here. Marla will give you access to the office files."
She took the planner, hands brushing his. Electricity danced up her arm.
"Do your job, and you'll be well compensated. Fail me, and you'll be replaced."
A chill ran through her.
"Yes, Mr. Blackwood."
His mouth twitched. "Lucien."