Violet had just mastered clipping the cufflinks, following Cain’s precise and annoyingly ticulous instructions, when a loud knock echoed through the room. It wasn’t the kind of knock one could mistake—a heavy, commanding sound that belonged to only one man in the mansion.
"Co in," Cain said, his tone calm, yet carrying the weight of unspoken authority.
The door opened, revealing Ravon, who entered with a line of servants trailing behind him. While Ravon bowed low, the rest fell to their knees, their submission an almost choreographed display of reverence.
"Lord Cain," Ravon began, but Cain’s raised hand cut him off before he could say more.
"I’ll be heading out in a couple of hours. The usual bar," Cain announced.
Ravon nodded deeply, signaling his understanding. "I will make the necessary preparations imdiately," he replied. A flick of his hand sent the servants scurrying, bustling to clean the room in preparation for the workers who would repair the damage.
Violet stood silently, her exhaustion weighing heavy on her. She couldn’t help but dread the possibility that she might have to accompany Cain, though she had no clue where he planned to go.
Her steps fell into rhythm behind him as they left the chaos of the room behind and entered another—nearly identical to the first, as if the mansion itself were mocking her efforts. But her attention was drawn to the trolley of food already laid out, a feast that seed almost out of place in this stark environnt.
Once the servants were dismissed, Violet moved to her usual spot behind Cain. Before she could settle, his voice, smooth yet edged with quiet authority, rang out. "You’re not hungry?"
The simple question held no room for argunt, and Violet quickly found herself seated, helping herself to a plate with careful movents.
Lack of sleep was one thing, but starvation was a tornt she refused to endure.
She took a cautious bite, then another, and soon found herself marveling at the al. The flavors were rich, the bread warm and soft, the sour cream tangy and decadent. Better than anything she’d eaten before. For a fleeting mont, she dared to think that maybe Cain wasn’t as terrible as she had believed.
Maybe he’s just misunderstood, she mused, her gaze flickering toward him.
But the thought soured in her mind as quickly as it had ford. This was the sa man who had killed without hesitation—who had been seconds away from ending her life before so mysterious whim stayed his hand. Her appetite dulled as her mories tightened their grip, and she found herself eating chanically, her gaze lowering to avoid his piercing eyes.
"When I’m gone," Cain said, breaking the silence, "I expect you to finish your assignnt. And two others."
His voice lacked threat, but the way his calm gaze settled on her was sharper than any blade.
"Stay here. There’s no reason for you to go anywhere else." The words were unspoken shackles, locking her in place, though she nodded mutely in response.
She forced herself to eat faster, worried that Cain’s al would end before she had her fill. The mont he put his fork down, the servants would sweep everything away.
When she finished, a quiet smile tugged at her lips despite herself. She rubbed her belly discreetly, savoring the fleeting sense of contentnt even as the servants began clearing the table. Cain had already moved to his desk, his focus shifting to the stack of papers transferred there.
anwhile, Violet climbed the ladder brought in for her task, her thoughts drifting to the parts of the ceiling she had already cleaned.
If only they could bring those pieces in too, she thought bitterly, her gaze flicking toward Cain. Would he even notice if I skipped a section?
"I expect you won’t cut corners, Violet," Cain said suddenly, his voice startling her.
Her head snapped up, eyes wide. He’d used her na—or at least a piece of it. A strange sensation blood in her chest, unbidden. How would it sound if he said her full na?
Shaking off the thought, she set to work, though her mind was elsewhere. Her plan to implicate Rane was half-ford, missing crucial details. But she had ti.
Cain finally left the mansion about an hour before noon, Ravon trailing after him. With their departure, the air felt lighter, and Violet moved to retrieve the folder of reports she planned to plant in Rane’s room.
Her steps were slow, uncertain. The plan was reckless, and she couldn’t figure out how to lure Rane upstairs where his presence could be noticed. But avoiding him forever wasn’t an option.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up one of the many knives from Cain’s desk, its cold weight a strange comfort as she slipped it into her pocket.
If he makes one wrong move, I’ll make him regret it.
The servant quarters felt suffocating as Violet approached Rane’s room. She intended to pass by unnoticed, head to her own space to gather her things, and avoid any confrontation.
Yet the muffled sounds from Rane’s room gave her pause. A low thump. A stifled noise. Her instincts scread at her to walk away, to mind her business, but a sharp cry—a sound too close to pain—stopped her dead.
Her feet carried her toward the adjoining door before her mind caught up. Pushing it open, she gasped at the scene before her.
Rane, shirtless, was pinning a young man facedown on the bed, his movents unmistakable as he thrusted his hips in a way that was unmistakable.
Violet’s breath caught, and for a mont, she was frozen in horror. Then rage took over thinking Rane was forcing the guy against his will.
"GET OFF HIM RIGHT NOW!" she scread, rushing forward to shove Rane aside only to be taken aback when the man on the bed raised his head, irritation flashing in his eyes. "What the hell? I didn’t agree to a threeso!"
He hurriedly scrambled to dress, glaring at both of them before storming out, slamming the door behind him.
Violet stood, stunned, her gaze locked on Rane.
"Well, that was rude," Rane said casually, leaning back in the lone chair in the room. He was entirely too relaxed for soone who’d just been caught doing such a thing.
"From the expression on your face, I’m guessing you’re quite inexperienced!’ he continued and Violet had heard enough as she turned around to leave but she had just done so when she heard him speak again.
"I heard a rumor about you," he said, his eyes sharp as they fixed on her.
"You don’t eat in the servants’ quarters. Makes wonder where you do eat... and what you eat. So people are even calling you the Lord’s pet," he said with a smirk, his tone dripping with mockery.
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