The maid

her mid-twenties, stepped out of the taxi, her breath visible in the crisp autumn air as she took in the sight. Sinclair Manor was more than she had expected-its stone facade, dotted wit

teps on the gravel, a rhythmic reminder of how alone she was here. The house had a presence, a kind of weight that made her feel like she had already step

tures and a carefully cultivated appearance that spoke of old money. His dark hair was immaculately combed back, and his tailored suit clung to a physi

carried the kind of confidence that came from a lifetime of

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair," she said, her voice quiete

nt? Curiosity? Desire? Whatever it was, it was enough to make her skin tingle. He stepped aside,

olden light over the room. Every inch of the place screamed wealth, from the intricate carvings in the walls

arlow show you to your quarters and explain your duties," he said, his tone businesslike but still carryi

quickening at his sudden se

a. You'll be expected to follow them-strictly." His voice lowered slightly, and

feeling an unexpected pu

o a small, almost pr

and professionalism. Tall and stern, her graying hair pulled into a tight bun, she greeted Victoria with a curt nod

rs. Harlow said, her voice sh

eyes on her, lingering longer than they should. Her pulse raced, and she couldn't help but