SONG RECOMMENDATIONS: POKER FACE by lady gaga.
It had been a few days since the shocking scene with the master of the house, his advisor, and the child. The news naturally made its rounds, further spiking the curiosity of the estate's servants. After years of hearing nothing from their employer, they had suddenly received instructions to clean a wing for their master's arrival. And as if that wasn't enough, the master came with quiet some guests.
They all knew the rumors about their master. They wouldn't pretend otherwise.
But could it really be true? The sight they'd witnessed that day had them wondering.
How could a murderer—the devil, they called him—have such wild uncompusure? And even if his face hadn't betrayed the truth, they couldn't ignore the way he held that awfully pale, striking woman. With such possession. The shock had threatened to show their surprise.
Though many of them hadn't seen or heard much about the mysterious woman since her arrival, they had seen plenty of the boy child, whom they'd come to know belonged to the lady.
With the care given to the child, even without being told, the servants had begun addressing him as "young master."
Every day was a new spectacle. It was refreshing to have such a delicate, beautiful child running around the mansion. Today was no different.
Theodore chased after the dark feline that raced down the halls, darting from side to side to throw off the determined boy who refused to give up.
Theodore was determined to catch him today. The cat, at this point, was making a mockery of him.
Over the past few days, Theodore had noticed the cat's careful presence around him—hidden in the shadows, watching him but never attempting to draw closer.
What hadn't he done to catch that dark beast? He'd climbed trees, fallen into the pond, and even found the trickster in his bath. But the cat had topped it today: it had stolen his fish right off his plate. That was the final straw.
"Get back here, you feline!" Theodore shouted, racing after the cat. The servants stepped aside, giving the duo a wide berth, their amused gazes following the chaotic scene.
"Uh-huh! Got you!" Theodore's face was flushed, his lips pressed together in concentration as he cornered the cat against a wall.
Just as he lunged, the cat hopped to the side, darting around and lunging at Theodore with a ferocious screech.
Theodore scream at the claws in his hair, pulling at the cat. He wrench the cat away and it landed on it feet and darted away from him, slipping through a crack in a large doorway.
Theodore, more frustrated than ever, followed in hot pursuit, practically steaming.
He slammed the door shut behind him. "When I get my—" His words cut off with a tiny squeak as a glint flashed and a sharp thud sounded next to his head.
Silence. Except for the crackling fire.
Theodore froze, Theodore neck and muscles were taut as he slowly craned his head to his side.
The silver steel of a knife gleamed, lodged an inch away from his left cheek, its tip buried in the door.
"You've got quick reflexes, kid," a voice said.
Theodore's stunned, wide-eyed gaze darted around, searching for the voice's source.
Narrowed topez eyes stared back at him. The woman behind the counter wore a cape, its hood lowered. Voluminous curls framed her face, her red-painted lips stretched in a mischievous grin. A beauty mark rested beneath her left eye.
Her elbow leaned casually against the countertop. With a swift motion, she twirled a knife between her fingers before stabbing it into the chopping board with a thud, making Theodore flinch.
"Join me," she said, gesturing toward the counter. Only then did Theodore notice the array of cut vegetables on the board in front of her.
He sidestepped cautiously, keeping an eye on the dark-skinned woman as she turned back to her task.
She didn't look at him, her attention fixed on her work. A new set of knives gleamed in her grasp as she expertly ran their sharp blades against each other. She twirled one and resumed chopping.
Mesmerized, Theodore inched closer.
Morena's attention remained on the vegetables, oblivious to the child struggling to climb onto a high stool. A small snort escaped her as he finally reached the top, wobbling precariously before settling with a triumphant smile.
Theodore studied her as she worked. Her movements were precise, almost artistic.
She straightened momentarily, turning to the stove to retrieve something.
The scent hit Theodore's nose immediately as she set it on the counter: freshly baked goods, unlike anything he'd seen before. The aroma promised so many flavors, each one heavenly.
He grinned in boyish charm as he reached for one.
"Ow!" he exclaimed as her hand swatted his away.
He retracted his hand, nursing it with a pout.
The black cat suddenly hopped onto the counter, snatched one of the snacks, and leapt away before Theodore could blink.
Mouth agape, he watched the cat escape through an open kitchen window, snack in tow.
Theodore sighed dejectedly, gazing longingly at the remaining pastries.
"So… are you a friend of Papa?" Theodore asked, his curiosity piqued.
The kitchen door banged open, startling him.
"Young Master! Young Master!"
A servant rushed in, bowing deeply and panting.
"The mistress… she's awake!"
Theodore's eyes widened.
Theodore scrambled off the stool, nearly toppling it over in his haste. Morena leaned lazily against the counter, watching the boy dash toward the door without a word.
His tiny footsteps echoed down the hall as he sprinted toward the room where his mother rested. The servants in the corridors parted to let him pass, whispering amongst themselves.
_ _ _
The warmth of the sun caressed her cool cheeks.
Lucinda's body felt submerged in clouds, and the most light caressing touch and the soft, light touch almost brought a smile to her lips—before cold dread kicked in.
In an instant, a knife was in her hand, its blade pressed against someone's throat.
Her fight-or-flight instinct roared to life before her brain could fully process her surroundings.
Lucinda squinted against the harsh light, her gaze locking onto the most vibrant blue eyes, framed by thick, delicate lashes, narrowed at hers.
She had just woken up—one arm braced on the bed, the other holding a knife to Silas's throat.
The viscount's palm rested gently against her cheek, his knee sinking into the soft mattress. They were frozen, locked in a precarious position like participants in a deadly dance.
"Someone's thirsty for blood today," came Silas's amused tone.
"Where—" The words escaped her lips before the air rushed out of her lungs as Silas's arms wrapped around her.
"You're a stubborn woman, I tell you," his voice murmured, laced with breathy laughter and an indescribable emotion.
Lucinda blinked in his embrace, stunned by his actions. He wasn't one to shy away from physical contact, but this was the first time he'd done something so intimate.
And to her surprise, she found she… didn't dislike it. She could feel the firmness of his toned muscles around her, his warmth seeping into her. His signature spicy scent was there, but mingled with an underlying herbal aroma and something else that made her nose scrunch.
A sharp pain shot through her side, and she winced, causing Silas to immediately pull back. His hand moved to her shoulder, concern etched into his features as he assessed her.
"M-my apologies. It must still hurt."
"It does—" she admitted, stiffening as her hand hovered over the bandages on her stomach.
"Theo!?"
"Relax, Lucinda. I'll have someone fetch him," Silas reassured her, gently pressing her back down as she tried to sit up.
He called for a servant and instructed them to inform Theodore that his mother was awake. As he spoke, he couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face. Why was he so happy?
Once the servant left, Silas turned back to the woman, who was nervously chewing her lips on the bed.
Sensing his gaze on her, Lucinda immediately went on the defensive.
"You look horrible," she blurted, gesturing to him. Though his loose, clean clothes were neat, his tousled hair and the dark bags under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.
He needed sleep, urgently.
"You don't look too bad yourself, my lady," he quipped, raising an eyebrow as he rounded the bed.
Then, without warning, he climbed onto the bed and slid under the covers.
"W-what… are you d-doing?!" she stammered, her voice rising in disbelief.
Silas propped his head on his arm, a boyish grin playing on his lips.
"What does it look like I'm doing? Getting some rest, since my darling so kindly pointed out I look like horse dung."
"I did not say that!" she shrieked, momentarily forgetting the endearment.
"That's improper. Get off my bed!"
"Oh, Lucinda," he drawled, his smirk widening. "We both know you're not one for propriety. And in case you haven't noticed… this is my bed." He waved a hand around the room for emphasis.
"What—" Her words faltered as her gaze swept the room.
She suddenly felt foolish. In her haste to check on Theodore and to confront Silas, she hadn't realized this wasn't her room.
How could she have missed it?
The space was grander than hers, filled with unmistakable luxuries. Sunlight streamed through expansive windows, illuminating polished floors that gleamed under the light. A massive chandelier, adorned with sparkling crystals, hung majestically from the ceiling.
The bed was wide and impossibly soft, draped with rich, embroidered fabrics and adorned with exotic pillows.
Everywhere she looked, there were signs of opulence: intricately carved furniture, tapestries depicting historical scenes, and delicate porcelain vases filled with fresh, fragrant flowers. Gilded mirrors reflected the lavish surroundings, making the room seem even larger.
She had heard whispers of the viscount's wealth, but never to this extent.
This room alone looked fit for royalty.
Just how wealthy was this man?!