HAZEL

The kiss electrified me. It made me see things I hadn't before. I walked away with an answer I had been looking for: the master's name. But I also found something I hadn't expected: desire.

Being pressed against the wall by his hard body, feeling his breath on me, and hearing his foul words frazzled me. I'm never frazzled. Everything in my life is scheduled. I always know what to expect: my cleaning duties, people to meet with, and time to read. I have a dull, repetitive schedule.

I'm rarely surprised, but the hooded man took my breath away when he kissed me. He exploded my grey life with color.

I return to the mansion and wait by the wall for the next shift change. The kiss keeps replaying in my mind. His lips had been searing hot. Ferocious and experienced. His tongue curled around mine, dominating me in a way I never had before. It was exhilarating.

His body was strong, angular, and broad. I didn't know bodies could be built like that. There was no fear when I was surrounded by his power and felt small and vulnerable. Instead, I felt delicate. Sensual. I was overwhelmed by the strange desire to submit to him.

I've been rebelling this entire year: Plotting, sneaking out of the estate, walking the halls at night, lying to my mother, and kissing masked men. I haven't been submissive at all. But the kiss from the hooded man had me melting through his fingers, ready to do anything for more.

I'm in over my head. I thought discovering the secrets of the estate would be difficult. It's a massive world full of people, rooms, and secrets. But these two mysterious men are proving to be much more puzzling.

When a cool breeze blows, I put on the hoodie. I think of the man I made it for. Should I see him again? What would he require if I asked more questions?

I blush at the thought of him getting greedier. I'm not sure what comes after a kiss. Perhaps he would want to run his hands over my body. I'm playing a dangerous game, but I can't stop returning for more. I want answers about the estate, but I want his touch, too.

I peek into the estate through the hole and hurry onto the grounds when the guards switch and take their smoke break.

I tip-toe down the dark, empty halls, squinting, although I know the halls like the back of my hand. I also know every supply closet. I cleaned the closets and ensured there was no clutter. I could easily slip inside any closet and not worry about a mop falling and revealing my location.

I've prepared many things to avoid getting caught. But I didn't think to protect myself from the two colossal men who have been bringing plenty of noise to my life. My heart has never beat so loudly, and my breathing has never been so labored. I didn't expect this mess.

I successfully sneak into my room and gently shut the door.

Gwen sits up, and my blood runs cold.

"Hazel?" she whispers.

I don't move. Don't speak. Don't think.

She yawns and rolls over, falling back asleep. Hopefully, she won't remember this in the morning. Gwen is a deep sleeper, so I thought I wouldn't have problems, but I might run out of luck.

I pull the oversized sweater off and set it on my small nightstand. Then I take my shoes off and silently crawl into bed. My heartbeat is slowly calming, but my body still brims with energy. My lips are restless. I keep biting them, pressing them together, remembering the male lips that kissed them.

– • –

In the morning, I eye Gwen closely. We dress into our maxi maid uniforms but don't exchange much other than a 'good morning.'

She whistles as she checks the plants by the window and ties an apron around her waist. Then, she smiles and walks out of the room.

Thankfully, she has no memory of last night.

I stop by a closet to retrieve a duster and a bucket of supplies. I'm startled by Dakota's frowning face when I shut the door.

"I'm surprised, Hazel. I didn't think you had it in you."

The duster nearly falls from my hand. "What?" I whisper, looking away from her heated gaze.

She's technically my boss. I always try to avoid her in the kitchen, and she has never given me much attention. That's why I don't know why she sought me out today. I'm not scheduled to work in the kitchen for another four hours.

"Well, it looks like you're earning some stripes on your sleeves."

Stripes?

I glance at the sleeve of her maid dress. Two stitched frills on both sleeves mark her status. I have no stripes at all, and my mother only has one. I always wondered how Dakota is my age–much younger than my mother- but she has quickly climbed the ranks.

There are only two other maids with two stripes. Our superiors are older and don't wear stripes.

Seeing my confusion, she adds, "I thought you were just a bookworm, but never thought to ask which books you were reading. Clearly you were reading about strategy. But let me tell you this: you will never become one of the Lord's mistresses."

But I don't want to become the Lord's mistress. I don't want to wear stripes and get fucked in the halls at night. I don't want to climb the ranks by sleeping with my boss.

"You must be mistaken," I reply.

"Then why were you in the hall with the Lord at night?"

"Dakota, I answer to you in the kitchen. Only then are you my superior." I wave my duster, signaling to the hall. "You're out of your domain."

She grits her teeth, but I pick up my bucket and report to the library.

I curse myself. That was not the right thing to say. I was angry that Dakota was poking her nose in my life and accusing me of wanting to become a mistress. She's so protective of a man whose name I doubt she knows.

Ronan.

Calm down, I tell myself.

I take my anxiety on the floor as I sweep and mop it. The floorboards are shining by the time I'm done cleaning. When I report to the kitchen hours later, Dakota isn't there. This only makes me more anxious.

I decide to lay low for the next two days. I can't go out every night, especially if Dakota is onto me.

– • –

Two nights Later

I've been meeting with my mom every day. I don't want her to suspect that I've been getting distant.

We eat dinner in the garden together and sew clothes. I'm sewing another hoodie, hoping that this one is nice enough for the hooded man to take. Maybe he didn't like the colors on the first hoodie.

I wonder what I'll ask him next time I see him in town. I'm torn between two questions: What does Lord Ronan's face look like? What is the hooded man's name?

Work has been tense. Dakota keeps glaring at me in the kitchen. I've begun transferring to another kitchen, which will take weeks to process. I don't think it will do much good, either. All the mistresses know that the Lord caught me in the hall and suspect I'm trying to replace them.

"Goodnight," Gwen says as she turns in her bed.

"Goodnight," I reply and shut my book. I've been reading Robin Hood–inspired by the man who has robbed me of my focus. I can't forget him. As I sat beside my mother, I recalled the passion of his kiss. My panties were shamefully drenched every time I thought of him. He was right. I'm a blushing, squirming virgin curious about what else a man could offer to a starved woman.

I didn't even know this kind of hunger existed.

I exhaust the lanterns and slide under the sheets. I close my eyes and wait for sleep to take me, but I remain alert for the next hour.

When I hear footsteps outside, I sit up and stare wide-eyed at the door.

Someone is walking the halls. Someone is breaking the rules.

The footsteps stop outside my door. I glance at Gwen, who softly snores on her bed.

There's a single knock on the door. Firm, loud, careless.

With trembling hands, I push my sheets aside and pull a hoodie over my nightgown.

I cautiously approach the door. "Who is it?" I whisper.

When there's no reply, I open my door. There's a soft click and then my sharp intake of breath when I see the silhouette of the man at my doorstep.

It's the Lord.

"Ronan," I whisper.