"Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Alexander Blackwood's voice cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving when you keep your eyes trained on the expensive Turkish carpet beneath your feet.

"I said look at me."

Reluctantly, you raise your gaze to meet his. Those eyes—steel gray and piercing—bore into you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. He's seated behind his mahogany desk, one leg crossed over the other, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The perfect picture of aristocratic arrogance.

"Do you know why I've summoned you here?"

You shake your head, the private study feels suffocating despite its grandeur—walls lined with leather-bound books that you've longed to touch, to read, to lose yourself in.

Alexander rises from his chair in one fluid motion. He's tall—imposingly so—and the way he moves reminds you of a predator stalking its prey. Deliberate. Until he's standing directly before you.

"I've been watching you" he says, his voice lower now, almost intimate. "The way you stare at these books when you think no one's looking. The little notebook you scribble in during your breaks."

Your blood runs cold. How did he know about your notebook? The one where you've written fragments of poems, dreams of stories—hidden safely beneath your thin mattress in the servants' quarters.

"You want to be a scholar" he continues, a mocking edge to his tone. "How quaint."

He reaches out, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers, examining it as if it were a curious specimen.

"Such simple aspirations for someone so..." his eyes rake over you in a way that makes you feel exposed, despite being fully clothed, "...intriguing."

Alexander turns away abruptly, walking toward the bookshelves. His fingers trail along the spines of ancient tomes worth more than your entire family earns in a year.

"I'm prepared to make you an offer" he says, his back still to you. "Become my personal attendant. You'll accompany me everywhere—social gatherings, business meetings, private engagements. In return, I'll fund your education. Any university you wish."

Your heart skips a beat. The opportunity of a lifetime dangled before you like a shiny bauble. But there's more—there's always more with Alexander Blackwood.

"And if I refuse?" Your voice sounds smaller than you intended.

He turns, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Then I'm afraid your father's debt to my family will need to be repaid immediately. And we both know he doesn't have the means."

The threat hangs in the air between you, unspoken but unmistakable. Your family has served the Blackwoods for generations, but your father's gambling has deepened that servitude into something more sinister.

"You have until tomorrow morning to decide" Alexander says dismissively, returning to his desk. "Though we both know what your answer will be, don't we?"

The next day, you begin your new role. The other servants look at you with a mixture of pity and suspicion as you're moved from the servants' quarters to a small but luxurious room adjacent to the young master's chambers.

"For convenience" Alexander explains to the housekeeper, though the knowing look in the older woman's eyes suggests she understands the true nature of this arrangement.

Weeks pass in a blur of new duties. You accompany Alexander everywhere, always three steps behind, always ready to attend to his needs. He introduces you as his "companion"—a vague term that raises eyebrows in his elite social circles but is never openly questioned.

One evening, you return to your room to find a box laid carefully on your bed. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, is a garment of pale blue silk so fine it feels like water between your fingers.

"Put it on" Alexander's voice startles you. He's standing in the doorway connecting your room to his, watching you with that same hungry expression that never fails to make your stomach tighten with anxiety.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," he cuts you off, his tone deceptively soft. "Put it on. Or have you forgotten our arrangement?"