Here's the exact same version as requested:
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"Alright, what do you want then? Money? Power?" Lexa's icy glare cut through the distance between them. "Neither of which I can't give."
Michael's doubtful expression was immediate. Money? Power? What could someone like her even offer?
She was an A-rank, sitting at the very bottom of the elite chain. She had little to no influence compared to the Queen or the Heart, and her resources couldn't possibly be vast enough to shield him from the fallout of such a high-profile assassination.
Killing the Queen wasn't just dangerous—it was suicidal. Even if by some miracle he succeeded, he'd be marked for death by the entire hierarchy. No amount of money or status could save him then.
And power? What sort of power could Lexa promise that could make him invincible?
Unless…
Michael's mind wandered into darker territory. Was this a ploy to position herself as the next Queen? Impossible. The Queen's successor was chosen solely by the King, sometimes with input from the Heart. A pawn at rank 50 had no chance of ascending to the throne.
"I don't want any of those," he said, exasperated. "It's too much trouble."
"Then what do you want?"
Michael hesitated, putting real thought into her question. His life was far from ideal, but it was a state he had learned to tolerate. What could he possibly ask for that wasn't fleeting or impossible?
As he pondered, his gaze drifted down. It stopped at Lexa's chest. An idea struck him like a lightning bolt, and his expression shifted—lust flickering in his eyes.
"I have a few short-term goals," he said slowly, his lips curling into a sly grin. "And I want every one of them met."
Lexa raised a brow but didn't seem fazed. "Are you sure about your request?"
"Absolutely." He nodded. His future didn't look promising anyway. If he couldn't guarantee his survival, why not enjoy the present? And what better way to do that than with a comfortable life… and a sexy, accommodating milf?
"Fine," Lexa said after a long pause. "Your requests will be granted, provided they don't threaten life or liability." She set her teacup aside, her tone hardening. "And as long as they don't involve me."
"WHAT?!" Michael slammed his fist on the table, causing the cutlery to clatter and tea to spill. "Why the hell would I ask for anything if it doesn't involve you?!"
Lexa smiled, serene and unbothered. "Don't get me wrong. You and I aren't in the same class. Submitting myself to a mere assassin would be nothing short of foolish."
"WHAT THE— Wait." Michael paused, realization dawning. "Did you say I can have your maids?"
Lexa's smirk widened. "If you sign the contract."
A scroll materialized between them, unfurling to reveal its contents. The bolded letters at the top read:
CONFIDENTIAL AGREEMENT
Michael skimmed through the terms, catching only the essentials: her name, Lexa; his role as "Executor"; and the main task: eliminating the Queen.
By the time he reached the bottom, an ink-dipped feather appeared beside the parchment. Without hesitation, Michael scrawled his name across the designated line.
"There you go," he said, pushing the scroll back toward her. "Anyway, what did you do to my magic?"
"This place forbids dark magic," Lexa replied nonchalantly. "As long as you're here, it won't work. Feel free to leave anytime you wish."
Michael frowned, frustrated but unwilling to press the issue.
"If you intend to stay, one of my maids will show you to your room," Lexa added as she stood, her chest bouncing with the movement. "Good evening."
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Michael lay restless on his bed as night descended, his mind spiraling. He wasn't sure why he felt so anxious. Anticipation buzzed in his veins like an electric current.
The sound of his door opening snapped him from his thoughts.
A woman entered—one of Lexa's maids. She had fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders and curves that defied logic. Her maid uniform was barely there, clinging to her body in a way that left little to the imagination.
"Good evening," she said in a sultry tone. "I'm Rio, and I've been commanded by the mistress to meet all of your needs." She placed a tray of tea on his bedside table. "Is there anything you'd like?"
Michael's lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Well, I'd like to see your tits!"
To his shock, Rio didn't hesitate. She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands deftly undoing the buttons of her blouse.
Two massive, perfectly shaped breasts spilled free, their size and firmness nearly defying gravity. Michael's jaw dropped.
"What the hell?!" he blurted.
"Have I made you uncomfortable?" Rio asked, tilting her head.
"No… I just didn't expect you to actually—" He gulped, unable to tear his eyes away.
"I see." Without missing a beat, she leaned forward, offering him an even better view.
Michael's hand hovered, trembling, as he reached toward her chest. His fingers stopped just short of making contact.
"What's with the blank stare?" he asked, noticing her calm, almost mechanical expression.
"I didn't realize I was doing that," Rio replied. "Should I look more casual?"
Michael groaned and turned away, forcing himself to look out the window at the night sky.
"Never mind," he said. "That's enough. You can leave."
Rio buttoned her blouse and stood, her expression unchanged. "As you wish." She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Alone once more, Michael cursed himself under his breath. Pathetic.
Still the thought brought him comfort. As long the contract remained, Rio and the other maids were at his beck and call.
And tomorrow was a new day.