Her breath hitches, and I notice other things. The way her nipples have tightened against her uniform, visible even throughthe fabric and the linens. The flush spreading across her chest and up her throat. The way she presses her thighs together like she's trying to hide something.
Arousal.
She wants me. Doesn't want to want me. Horrified by it, perhaps. But her body doesn't lie.
"I'm not lying." But her voice wavers. Unconvincing.
"You're terrible at it." I let my eyes drop deliberately to her mouth, then back up. "But that's alright. I enjoy puzzles."
"I'm not a puzzle." She's shaking now. Small tremors running through her whole body. "I'm just—"
"Just what? A girl who ended up in my bathroom by accident? A girl who asks too many questions about my schedule? A girl with a burner phone hidden in her bag?"
The color drains from her face. "I don't know what—"
"Don't." My voice drops lower. Dangerous. "Don't insult my intelligence by pretending you don't understand what I'm saying."
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again like a fish drowning in air.
"Who sent you?" I ask quietly.
"No one."
"Try again."
"I'm just a maid who needed a job—"
"And I'm just a man who enjoys watching liars squirm." I lean close enough that my breath ghosts across her face. "But I'm getting bored of this game, Valerie. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to keep doing whatever it is you're doing. And I'm going to keep watching. And eventually, you'll slip. Make a mistake. And when you do—"
I let the threat hang there. Unfinished. More terrifying for what I'm not saying.
"I'm not—" Her voice breaks completely. "Please, I'm not doing anything, I swear—"
"Shh." I reach up with my free hand and brush my thumb across her cheekbone. She flinches but has nowhere to go. "The more you lie, the more interested I become. And you don't want my interest, little mouse. Trust me."
I push off the wall and step back, giving her space to breathe.
She gasps like she's been underwater, clutching the linens tighter.
"Pick up the sheet," I tell her. "And get back to work."
She scrambles to obey, dropping to her knees to gather the fallen linen with shaking hands. When she stands, she won't meet my eyes.
"Valerie."
She freezes.
"Next time I corner you, try not to look quite so aroused. It's distracting."
The flush on her face deepens to crimson, and she flees down the corridor without another word.
I watch her go, satisfaction curling in my chest.
Fear I can work with. Fear mixed with unwanted attraction? That's leverage.
But I'm still no closer to understanding where that flash of darkness came from. The moment in the bathroom when she stopped being a terrified mouse and became something cold and sharp.
I need to see it again.
