A lingering unease clung to Maya, a cold phantom of the sorrow she’d witnessed on Vance’s face.
His vulnerability, so starkly revealed by the faded photograph, painted a new layer onto his otherwise impenetrable persona.
She tried to dismiss it, to focus on Lily’s bright laughter echoing from the playroom, but the image of that crumbling building, and Vance’s raw gaze, wouldn't fade.
Moments later, a sharp buzz from her phone startled her. A text from Vance. “My study. Now.”
No pleasantries. No question marks. Just an order.
Swallowing hard, Maya pushed herself from the sofa. Her stomach fluttered with a nervous energy she couldn't quite pinpoint. Was this about the photograph? Had he known she saw him?
Approaching his study, the heavy oak door stood slightly ajar. She saw him sitting behind his expansive desk, bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp, a stack of papers meticulously aligned before him.
He didn't look up immediately. His fingers tapped a rhythmic, almost predatory beat against the polished wood.
Clearing her throat, Maya stepped inside. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Thorne?”
His head finally lifted, eyes piercing her with an intensity that dismissed any previous fleeting glimpse of gentleness. The warmth from Lily's room felt a million miles away.
“Indeed, Ms. Evans.” His voice was low, even. “Take a seat.” He gestured to the leather chair opposite him.
Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She sat, hands clasped tightly in her lap, trying to project an air of calm she didn’t feel.
He picked up a single sheet of paper from the stack, its crisp edges almost glowing in the lamplight. "I've been reviewing your contract, Ms. Evans."
Maya’s brow furrowed. The contract. It had been a fixed agreement, hadn't it? A set duration, set responsibilities.
“Is there… a problem?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Running a hand over the paper, Vance gave a slow, deliberate nod. “A slight oversight on my part. A necessary amendment.”
He pushed the paper across the desk. It wasn’t a new contract, but an addendum. Her eyes scanned the bold text, her breath catching in her throat.
*Clause 7B: Employee shall be available for duties, as assigned by Mr. Vance Thorne, at all hours, seven days a week, including but not limited to domestic, administrative, and personal requests. Failure to comply with any reasonable request will be considered a breach of contract.*
Her gaze snapped back to him. “At all hours?” she managed, the words tasting like ash.
“Precisely.” He leaned back, watching her reaction with an unreadable expression. “My needs can be unpredictable, Ms. Evans. I require a certain level of… responsiveness.”