The grand ballroom sparkled under a thousand lights.
The Blackwell estate was hosting a formal cocktail gala for international investors, Lucien's first major public appearance since waking from the coma.
Ava wasn't supposed to be there.
Maids didn't mingle at billionaire functions. They moved like shadows, invisible, silent. But that night, she'd been summoned by Mrs. Quinn, the head maid, to assist in the west wing lounge.
A quiet job.
Or so she thought.
She was adjusting the cutlery on a side table when the crowd parted… and Lucien entered the room.
A hush fell.
He wore a sharp black suit and matching tie, his signature cold expression back in place. His presence commanded every gaze in the room and Ava's heart skipped a beat.
He didn't see her at first.
But when his eyes swept the room and landed on her… he paused.
Just for a second.
Then looked away.
Ava exhaled quietly and kept her head down, pretending to straighten a napkin.
She didn't expect to be cornered by anyone.
But a few minutes later, a man reeking of expensive cologne and entitlement strolled up beside her.
"You're new," he said with a smirk.
Ava straightened. "I'm working, sir."
"That's too bad," he drawled. "Pretty face like yours shouldn't be hiding in the shadows."
"I'm not interested," she said, trying to move away.
He blocked her path.
"You shouldn't speak to a Blackwell associate like that," he warned. "Do you know who I am?"
Ava clenched her jaw. "Do you care that I said no?"
He grabbed her wrist.
"Let go!"
"Is there a problem?"The voice was quiet… lethal.
Lucien.
He had appeared out of nowhere, like a storm rolling in.
The man dropped Ava's wrist instantly. "Mr. Blackwell, I was just"
"I saw what you were doing." Lucien's eyes were like ice. "Apologize."
The man laughed nervously. "She's just a maid"
"I said: apologize."
He did. Quickly. And then scurried off like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Lucien turned to Ava.
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, her voice caught in her throat. "I'm fine."
He stared at her for a long moment. Then, in a move that stunned her, he reached out and gently touched her wrist the one that had been grabbed.
His fingers were surprisingly warm.
"I don't know why," he murmured, "but I can't stand the thought of anyone touching you."
Ava's heart twisted violently.
She looked up at him. "You're my boss."
"I know," he said. "But it feels like I've known you longer."
She looked away. "Maybe it's just
The grand ballroom sparkled under a thousand lights.
The Blackwell estate was hosting a formal cocktail gala for international investors—Lucien's first major public appearance since waking from the coma.
Ava wasn't supposed to be there.
Maids didn't mingle at billionaire functions. They moved like shadows, invisible, silent. But that night, she'd been summoned by Mrs. Quinn, the head maid, to assist in the west wing lounge.
A quiet job.
Or so she thought.
She was adjusting the cutlery on a side table when the crowd parted… and Lucien entered the room.
A hush fell.
He wore a sharp black suit and matching tie, his signature cold expression back in place. His presence commanded every gaze in the room—and Ava's heart skipped a beat.
He didn't see her at first.
But when his eyes swept the room and landed on her… he paused.
Just for a second.
Then looked away.
Ava exhaled quietly and kept her head down, pretending to straighten a napkin.
She didn't expect to be cornered by anyone.
But a few minutes later, a man reeking of expensive cologne and entitlement strolled up beside her.
"You're new," he said with a smirk.
Ava straightened. "I'm working, sir."
"That's too bad," he drawled. "Pretty face like yours shouldn't be hiding in the shadows."
"I'm not interested," she said, trying to move away.
He blocked her path.
"You shouldn't speak to a Blackwell associate like that," he warned. "Do you know who I am?"
Ava clenched her jaw. "Do you care that I said no?"
He grabbed her wrist.
"Let go—!"
"Is there a problem?"The voice was quiet… lethal.
Lucien.
He had appeared out of nowhere, like a storm rolling in.
The man dropped Ava's wrist instantly. "Mr. Blackwell—I was just—"
"I saw what you were doing." Lucien's eyes were like ice. "Apologize."
The man laughed nervously. "She's just a maid—"
"I said: apologize."
He did. Quickly. And then scurried off like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Lucien turned to Ava.
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, her voice caught in her throat. "I'm fine."
He stared at her for a long moment. Then, in a move that stunned her, he reached out and gently touched her wrist—the one that had been grabbed.
His fingers were surprisingly warm.
"I don't know why," he murmured, "but I can't stand the thought of anyone touching you."
Ava's heart twisted violently.
She looked up at him. "You're my boss."
"I know," he said. "But it feels like I've known you longer."
She looked away. "Maybe it's just déjà vu."
"Maybe," he whispered. "Or maybe it's something I've forgotten… that I'm trying to remember."
He stepped back, adjusting his cuffs as though nothing had happened.
"Stay in the lounge tonight," he said. "You're not safe around people like him."
Then he walked away.
Leaving Ava stunned, breathless, and torn between relief… and heartbreak.
Because for one fragile moment…
Lucien had protected her, not as a maid.But as something more.
."
"Maybe," he whispered. "Or maybe it's something I've forgotten… that I'm trying to remember."
He stepped back, adjusting his cuffs as though nothing had happened.
"Stay in the lounge tonight," he said. "You're not safe around people like him."
Then he walked away.
Leaving Ava stunned, breathless, and torn between relief… and heartbreak.
Because for one fragile moment…
Lucien had protected her—not as a maid.But as something more.