Chapter 4: Lines We Cross

Mom and Dad always said I looked timid as a mouse but had a lion’s heart. Before I moved into the mansion, they loaded me up with cash and jewelry, just in case I needed a quick escape. We weren’t poor. Even if I was the forgotten one, I lived pretty well here.

But once you’ve got all you need, you start wanting more. I started noticing Will Carter—the way he moved, the way his sleeve brushed mine. My friends would’ve roasted me if they’d seen how much time I spent daydreaming about him in the fancy sitting room, fiddling with my phone, not really texting anyone.

I spent money to help Will out, made sure he got good assignments, brought him food. Maybe because of that, I never saw him sweating in the sun anymore or freezing his hands off in winter. But my good intentions just made the other assistants jealous. They set him up, and the governor had him whipped.

The whispers made their way around the breakfast table, everyone suddenly way too interested in their eggs. My stomach twisted. I gripped the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white every time I caught a glimpse of Will’s wrists, angry red marks peeking out from under his shirt.

He looked like hell, but still turned to me with a gentle smile: “I’m fine, really.”

I felt awful. My eyes burned, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Will, why don’t you crash in my wing tonight?”

As soon as I said it, I froze. This time, “stay” didn’t just mean working for me—it meant something more. Something dangerous. My face went red hot. Did he get what I meant? This was the kind of scandal that could get us both thrown out. I tried to scold myself—admiring a flower doesn’t mean you should pick it.

But then I saw Will, blood still on his wrists, kneeling down. He took my hand and pressed it to his cheek, eyes shining with something I didn’t dare name. Even through my favorite Steve Maddens, I could feel the heat of his breath.

“Please… let me love you.”

The warmth of his skin on mine sent goosebumps up my arms. I couldn’t look at him—didn’t want to see the silent judgment in the old family portraits or the gossip that would spread down the halls.

“Then you better behave from now on.”

I bolted, face burning, heart pounding so loud I worried someone would hear me down the corridor.