The bathroom exuded an air of luxury, a perfect blend of opulence and modern design. Marble tiles with intricate veins of gold covered the floor and walls, reflecting the soft, ambient glow of recessed lighting. A rainfall showerhead hung from the ceiling, its sleek chrome surface shimmering under the lights. Beside it, a deep soaking tub rested by a floor-to-ceiling glass window, offering a view of the sprawling garden outside. The scent of sandalwood and lavender lingered in the air, courtesy of the aromatherapy diffuser tucked discreetly into a corner.
Alex hummed a song he'd recently heard in this new world, its melody lingering in his mind as the hot water cascaded down his athletic frame. Steam swirled around him, blurring the edges of the room and creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. Finishing his shower, he turned off the water and reached for a plush white towel embroidered with a golden monogram—a subtle testament to his family's wealth.
Drying himself off, Alex casually stepped out of the bathroom, leaving behind a trail of warmth and steam. His movements were unhurried, almost careless, as he strode naked into his spacious bedroom. He had left his clothes on the bed, a habit he hadn't shaken despite his newfound circumstances.
The bedroom was as luxurious as the bathroom—dark hardwood floors, a massive canopy bed with silk sheets, and walls adorned with minimalist art pieces that spoke of understated elegance. A large mirror hung on one wall, its surface polished to perfection, reflecting the room's every detail.
Alex stopped in front of the mirror, his towel draped loosely over his shoulder. His reflection stared back at him—broad shoulders, a defined chest, and an athletic build that had only improved with his recent efforts. His body carried a charm that was hard to define but impossible to ignore, a blend of strength and poise that seemed almost unreal.
He smirked at his reflection, brushing a hand through his damp hair. "I'm becoming more and more like the male protagonists in those novels she always used to read," he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. The thought of his ex's reading habits brought a faint pang of nostalgia, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced by his usual self-assured demeanor.
Lost in his thoughts, Alex didn't hear the soft knock at the door. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside.
"Ahhh!" A startled cry shattered the quiet.
Alex turned, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of a young woman frozen in the doorway. She was dressed in a traditional maid's uniform, her black dress accentuated with white lace detailing. A small white apron was tied neatly around her waist, and her smooth hair was pulled into a low bun. Her soft, delicate features were framed by a fringe, and her wide green eyes were locked on him, a mix of shock and embarrassment coloring her expression.
"Sorry, monsieur!" she stammered, her French accent unmistakable as her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "I thought ze room was empty."
Alex chuckled, his voice low and amused. "It's okay. I don't mind."
Her blush deepened, and she averted her gaze, focusing on a spot on the floor as she fidgeted with the hem of her apron. "I—um, I was sent to find you," she said hurriedly.
"And why is that?" Alex asked, reaching for the trousers he'd left on the bed. He slipped them on casually, his movements unbothered by her presence.
"Mr. Stark requires your presence," she replied, her voice steadier now but still tinged with nervousness.
"Ah, so my father called for me," Alex mused, buttoning his shirt as he regarded her thoughtfully.
The maid hesitated, her eyes flickering up to meet his briefly before darting away again. "Yes, monsieur."
"What's your name?" Alex asked, his tone conversational as he adjusted his collar.
"Geneviève," she answered, her accent making the name sound like music. "Geneviève Dubois."
"Geneviève," Alex repeated, testing the name on his tongue. "A pretty name for a charming maid."
Her cheeks reddened further, but she managed a small smile. "Merci, monsieur. Shall we go?"
Alex nodded, slipping on his shoes. "Lead the way."
As they walked through the grand corridors of the estate, Alex found himself observing Geneviève more closely. She moved with a quiet grace, her steps light and purposeful. Despite her initial flustered reaction, she carried herself with a dignity that intrigued him.
"So, Geneviève," he began, breaking the silence. "How long have you been working here?"
"Nearly a year," she replied, glancing at him briefly before focusing ahead. "Your family hired me after I moved from Paris."
"And how do you like it here?"
"It's... different," she admitted a hint of wistfulness in her tone. "Your home is grand, but sometimes I miss ze charm of my city."
Alex smiled faintly. "Paris does have its allure."
They reached his father's study, its large oak doors standing imposingly at the end of the hall. Geneviève turned to him, her hands clasped in front of her. "Your father is waiting inside," she said, her voice softer now.
"Thank you, Geneviève," Alex said, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.
She curtsied slightly, her expression still tinged with shyness. "You're welcome, monsieur."
As she turned to leave, Alex watched her retreating figure, his mind already calculating. Geneviève was an unexpected variable, but one he found... interesting.
Pushing the thought aside, he knocked on the study door before stepping inside, ready to face whatever his father had in store for him.