"Yes, I’m twenty-five," I nodded, forcing my voice to remain steady while every muscle in my body coiled tight beneath her scrutiny. "I previously worked as a freelance cleaner for various agencies—stepping in whenever they faced heavy workloads or shortages among their permanent staff."
Offering a bright, nonchalant smile, I feigned complete indifference as she scoffed, shaking her head as if I had uttered the most naive nonsense imaginable.
"Listen closely, sweetie. Let a woman with some experience give you a bit of advice," she said, leaning back into her leather chair and crossing her arms over her chest. She eyed me with the condescending air of a matron delivering a stern lecture to an unruly child.
"You’re hardly the first pretty young female trying to slip into this household to get close to an eligible bachelor. But it’s a foolish game. Utterly brainless. Countless girls just like you have tried to crawl into his orbit, and every single one was sniffed out and thrown onto the street. So if you think—"
She cut herself off, catching the sheer astonishment frozen on my face.
I couldn’t hide my shock even if I tried. The revelation that Alpha Rainn hadn’t married his precious fated mate struck me like a physical blow.
It makes no sense.
He believed she was his true bond. Why delay the official union? Why postpone a marriage that should have been sealed immediately—an alliance that would unite powerful wolf packs and unlock endless political influence?
Gulping down the lump in my throat, I squared my shoulders and sat up straight, locking my hands over my knees so tightly my knuckles turned white.
"First and foremost, I am a professional, not just some arrogant omega," I declared, injecting every ounce of quiet authority I could muster into my voice, even as my nerves frayed underneath. "
And Alpha Rainn holds zero interest for me as a man. He is simply an employer willing to pay a fair wage for hard work without pulling petty stunts or demanding extra favors. I am an exceptional worker—thorough and reliable—and I expect to be valued for the quality of my labor, not judged because of my age or subjected to insulting assumptions."
The head housekeeper’s icy glare thawed slightly, though her nostrils flared as she tested the air between us, taking a subtle, cautious sniff. My stomach twisted into a knot. Askold and I hadn’t been entirely sure if the scented silicone compound applied over my concealed mate-bond would hold up against a trained wolf’s nose.
Satisfied that she caught only generic scents, the woman relaxed. She reached into her desk drawer, pulled out a stapled contract, and slid it across the polished mahogany toward me.
"Alright," she said, her tone taking on a softer, weary edge, as if repeating a script she had delivered a hundred times before. "For the first month, you will live on-site. It’s a strict requirement—we are severely short-staffed, but every minute of overtime will be compensated in full.
After that, you’ll transition to a two-weeks-on, two-weeks-off rotation. Staff quarters are on the ground floor. The room is modest, but it’s clean and heated. Meals are served on a set schedule at no cost to you—we don’t dock your wages for food."
Nodding, I picked up the pen and signed my name at the bottom of the pages. My hand trembled slightly, a cold chill washing over me as the realization set in: I was really doing this.
She swept the documents into an iron safe, stood up, and gestured toward the double doors. "Come along. I’ll show you around."
We walked through the sprawling estate, and I committed every hallway, grand staircase, and secluded alcove to memory. Every door, every shadow. I knew that before long, I would have to navigate these corridors in pitch darkness—moving swiftly, silently, and with zero room for error.
The mansion was breathtakingly immense, built with soaring ceilings, intricate plasterwork, and grand crystal chandeliers that cast dancing shadows across the walls. It smelled immaculate—a mix of wood polish, crisp linen, and a soft, elegant floral fragrance. For a terrifying second, the sheer normalcy of it all made my skin crawl.
Everything was so stunning, so pristine, so rich... a gilded cage built by a monster.
We toured the living rooms, the dining hall, the kitchen, the library, and the guest quarters, and everything was going smoothly—until we reached a secluded wing of the mansion. The corridor dead-ended at a massive, pitch-black door.
The housekeeper stopped dead in her tracks and turned to me with a sharp look.
"That area is strictly off-limits to everyone," she said, her voice dropping into a hard, uncompromising register that immediately set off alarm bells in my head. "That’s... well, the master keeps several private rooms back there, and from what I understand, he cleans them himself. No one has ever set foot inside, and no one knows what’s behind that door. Not even me."
Mental map clicking into place, I realized that wing corresponded to the massive glass dome attached to the mansion I had spotted on my drive up. A winter garden, perhaps? Or something else Magnus wants to keep entirely hidden from the world?
An Alpha lord cleaning his own quarters. What a headline. If I told anyone back in the Lower District, they’d think I had completely lost my mind.
Nodding with practiced detachment, I followed her away from the black door. She led me down to a modest room on the ground floor. It held only a bed, a desk, a single chair, and a wardrobe, but it was surprisingly cozy, warm, and fitted with clean linens. Sunlight streamed through a large window overlooking a quiet inner courtyard.
"This is where you’ll be staying," she said, her eyes sweeping the space critically. "If you need anything, let me know and I’ll get it approved. Do you have any allergies or specific toiletries you require? We supply basic essentials for the staff—within reason, of course."
"I’m severely allergic to industrial solvents," I replied smoothly. "I just ask that I’m not assigned to tasks involving them—or, if it’s unavoidable, that I’m provided with a respirator, goggles, and heavy-duty protective gloves to block chemical vapors and skin contact."
She blinked in mild surprise, then nodded slowly. "We don’t usually deal with solvents here—that’s usually left to outside contractors or construction crews. We won’t assign you to anything like that, but if cleanups ever overlap with renovation work... it’s good that you mentioned it. I’ll make a note in your file."
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