I climb back onto the step ladder with shaking hands, attacking the window with more force than necessary. The glass squeaks under my cloth as I scrub away imaginary spots, trying to work through the emotions churning in my chest.
What is he doing here? Carmen said the owner was Mr. Vetrov, overseas on business. Is Mikhail security? Staff? A guest who showed up unexpectedly?
None of it matters. I can’t afford to care about his presence or his apparent amnesia regarding our shared history. I have a job to do and a son to support, and neither of those things depends on whether a man remembers sleeping with me four years ago.
As I move to the next window, my hands still tremble slightly when I spray the glass. I can’t forget the image of his face when he looked at me. It wasn’t just blank. It was…ruthlessly empty, like he was working very hard to show me nothing at all.
The thought follows me as I clean each window in the gallery.
Squeak, squeak. I thought the sound would drive me crazy when I first started this, but I get into such a rhythm that it’s more like music than noise.
When Carmen reappears an hour later to check on my progress, I’ve managed to compose myself enough to speak normally.
“How’s it going?” she asks, surveying my work with approval.
“Fine. The windows needed more attention than I expected.” I keep my voice steady and professional. “Carmen, who was that man I saw earlier? He was tall with dark hair?”
“Man?” Carmen’s brow furrows. “I thought we were alone today. The groundskeeper doesn’t usually come inside.”
My pulse accelerates. “He caught me when I slipped on the ladder and said to be careful.”
“I don’t know who that could have been.” Carmen shakes her head, looking genuinely confused. “Are you sure it wasn’t?—?”
Footsteps echo from the main staircase, and we both turn toward the sound. The man I knew as Mikhail appears at the top of the stairs, moving with the same grace I remember. He’s changed into a dark suit that fits him like it was tailored specifically for his body, and he carries himself with an authority that makes the sprawling house suddenly feel like his domain.
Carmen goes very still beside me. “Mr. Vetrov.” Her voice carries a deference I’ve never heard from her before. “I didn’t know you were back.”
Vetrov. Not Mikhail. Not security or staff or a guest.
The owner.
The man I spent one incredible night with four years ago owns this estate. He’s not just wealthy. He’s the kind of wealthy that buys privacy and power and the ability to make people disappear. He never has to worry about paying the electric or water bill, or how to make Leo’s tuition. He could solve all our problems, but he’s my boss, and I have no intention of mentioning Leo.
“I arrived this morning.” His attention moves between Carmen and me. “I trust everything is running smoothly in my absence?”
“Of course, sir. This is Danielle Arden, the new housekeeper I mentioned. She comes highly recommended.”
His gaze settles on me for exactly three seconds. It’s long enough to catalog my face, my posture, and my obvious discomfort, but brief enough to illustrate I’m inconsequential. “Very well. Carry on.”
He disappears down the opposite hallway, leaving Carmen and me standing in the gallery with the smell of his cologne lingering in the air. My legs feel unsteady, and I grip the ladder for support.
“That’s Mr. Vetrov.” Carmen’s voice sounds strange and wary. “Radmir Vetrov. He owns the estate and several other properties. Like I said, he values privacy.”
Radmir. His real name is Radmir, and he lied to me about everything. Not just his name but his entire identity. I thought I’d slept with a security guard or a businessman, someone in my league even if he was out of my financial bracket. Instead, I’d been a one-night distraction for a man who lives in a world I can’t even comprehend.
“Danielle? You look pale. Are you feeling all right?”
I blink, realizing Carmen is studying me with concern. I force myself to breathe normally and arrange my features into something resembling composure. “Just tired. Long morning.” I pick up my cleaning supplies, needing something to do with my hands. “Where should I work next?”
Carmen hesitates, clearly not convinced by my explanation, but she doesn’t push. “The guest bedrooms down the hall. Take your time. Again, quality…” She trails off, clearly realizing she doesn’t have to keep telling me that. Despite my erratic schedule and missed days, I’m a damn good worker when I’m present.
She leaves me alone again, and I move mechanically through the tasks, dusting and vacuuming and changing linens while my mind races. Every sound in the house makes me freeze, listening for his footsteps, his voice, or any sign that he’s nearby. I feel like I’m on the edge of insanity. How can I work this way?
Hours pass without another encounter, and gradually, I begin to convince myself I can handle this. So what if my boss is the man who unknowingly fathered my son? So what if seeing him again makes my chest ache with memories I’ve spent four years trying to forget? I need this job. Leo needs me to keep this job. If Radmir Vetrov wants to pretend I’m a stranger, I’ll be the best damn stranger he’s ever employed.
I’m scrubbing the bathtub in the third guest bedroom when my phone buzzes with a text from Leo’s preschool. It’s a still-friendly reminder that his tuition was due last Friday. My heart clenches as I type back a response, promising I’ll have it soon.
Four years ago, I spent one night with a man who made me believe in fairy tales. Nine months later, I gave birth to the best thing that ever happened to me, and now, through some cosmic joke, that man is back in my life. He’s powerful, untouchable, and completely unaware he has a son who draws pictures of superheroes and asks endless questions about why the sky is blue.
