Carlisle House was vast, and yet it always felt too small when Dominic was near. It wasn't just his physical presence—though that alone was impossible to ignore. It was the way he seemed to command every room without saying a word, the way his cold gaze lingered just a second too long, like he was stripping away all my defenses, layer by layer. And no matter how hard I tried to blend into the background, I could feel his attention, sharp and precise, like a match waiting to ignite.
I told myself it didn't matter. He was the master of the house. I was the maid. A complication between us would be dangerous—foolish. But my body betrayed me every time he was close, heart hammering in my chest, skin buzzing with awareness.
And Dominic? He wasn't making it easy to keep my distance.
The shift began as usual. I scrubbed down the hallways, polished the banisters, and dusted shelves without complaint. But that afternoon, Dominic found me in the greenhouse—a sprawling glass structure at the edge of the estate, filled with exotic plants and flowers.
I was kneeling in the dirt, trimming the leaves of a flowering vine when I heard the door click open. I didn't need to look up to know it was him; the air shifted the moment he entered, crackling with a tension that felt like static against my skin.
"You missed a spot," Dominic said, his voice smooth and low.
I glanced over my shoulder to see him leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest. The sunlight filtered through the glass panels, casting sharp lines across his face, making the coldness in his blue eyes seem even more striking.
"Care to show me how it's done?" I asked, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.
A flicker of amusement ghosted across his lips—gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "I'm not the gardening type."
"Didn't think so," I muttered, turning back to the plant.
Dominic didn't leave. Instead, I heard the crunch of his boots on the gravel path as he approached. He crouched beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, even through the layers of clothing between us.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly.
His words caught me off guard, and I turned to face him. His gaze was steady, piercing, as though he was seeing something in me that I hadn't even realized was there.
"I'm just a maid," I said, though the words felt wrong the moment they left my lips.
"No, you're not." His voice was low, almost like a secret. "You don't belong here. Not like this."
Something in the way he said it sent a shiver down my spine—not a warning, but a promise.
The silence between us stretched, heavy and charged. I could smell the faint scent of cedar and rain on him, mixed with the earthy aroma of the greenhouse. It was intoxicating. I should have moved, should have put more distance between us, but I stayed rooted in place, like the air between us was holding me still.
"Why did you come here?" Dominic asked, his voice soft but demanding.
"Didn't have a choice," I whispered. "Not after everything that happened."
He studied me for a moment, and I had the unsettling feeling that he knew exactly what I meant—maybe even more than I did.
"People like Nathan," he said slowly, "they take what they want and discard what they can't use."
The bitterness in his tone surprised me. It was the most emotion I'd heard from him since I arrived.
"And people like you?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Dominic's gaze darkened, a shadow passing over his features. "We don't take anything we're not willing to fight for."
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. My heart raced, and I felt a pull toward him—something deep and undeniable, like gravity drawing me closer to the edge of a cliff.
He shifted closer, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. I didn't move away. I couldn't.
"You should stay away from me," Dominic murmured, though his tone lacked conviction.
"Why?" I whispered, the word barely audible.
His eyes flickered, as if waging a silent battle within himself. "Because I'm not a good man, Liv."
"Neither am I the woman I used to be," I said, my voice low but steady.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The air between us was thick, suffocating, charged with something unspoken. Then, slowly, Dominic reached up, brushing a stray curl away from my forehead. His fingers were rough, calloused, but the touch was unexpectedly gentle.
"Your hair," he said softly, almost to himself. "It suits you like this."
The comment sent a strange warmth blooming in my chest—something fragile and dangerous. No one had ever told me that before. My hair had always been something to fix, to tame, to hide. But the way Dominic looked at me now, it was as if the wildness of it was exactly what he wanted to see.
For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to close the distance between us, to let myself fall into him and forget, just for a little while, the mess my life had become. But before I could move—or he could—we both heard the sound of footsteps approaching from outside the greenhouse.
Dominic pulled away, the spell between us broken, though his gaze lingered on mine for a heartbeat longer.
"Go," he said quietly, his voice rough. "Before someone sees."
I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding, and slipped out through the back door just as another servant entered the greenhouse from the front.
That night, I lay awake, my mind spinning with thoughts of Dominic. His words, his touch, the way he looked at me like he saw something worth noticing beneath the mess of my life. It was dangerous to think about him this way—reckless. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't push him from my thoughts.
Dominic Carlisle was a man surrounded by shadows, a man who carried his own darkness like armor. And yet, there was something about him that made me want to step closer to the edge, to see what lay beneath the cold exterior.
I didn't know what that said about me.
But I knew one thing for certain: staying away from him would be impossible. Because Dominic wasn't just dangerous.
He was irresistible.