The first thing Kate felt was warmth. The second was panic.
Her eyes snapped open, and for a moment, the world was soft. White sheets. Golden light pouring in from the enormous windows. The faint scent of cedarwood cologne clinging to the pillow beside her.
Then it hit her.
She was in his bed.
She sat up, slowly, carefully, like her body wasn't her own anymore. The cool breeze from the open window raised goosebumps on her bare skin as she scanned the room for her clothes. Her blouse was crumpled on the edge of the velvet bench. Her underwear—a pale lavender pair—peeked out from under the nightstand.
She groaned softly, covering her face with both hands.
What have I done?
Last night had felt unreal. His hands on her skin, his lips tracing fire down her body, the desperate way he clung to her like she was a lifeline. And she had let him—wanted him—just as desperately.
But now?
Now she was just the maid who had crossed the line.
She quietly slipped out of bed, gathering her clothes in trembling hands. The bathroom door creaked as she opened it, and she stepped inside, turning on the tap to wash her face.
The cold water snapped her halfway back to reality.
Her reflection stared at her from the mirror: hair tousled, eyes wide, lips still swollen from his kisses. She didn't look like the invisible staff member she was supposed to be. She looked… changed.
She dressed quickly, fingers fumbling as she buttoned her blouse. She smoothed down her skirt, wiped away the faint lipstick stain near her jaw, and stepped back into the room.
Jade was still asleep—or pretending to be.
His face was relaxed, the sharp angles softened by sleep. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He looked peaceful. Vulnerable.
She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say.
Then his eyes opened.
Their gazes met.
Neither of them spoke.
Kate's throat tightened. "I should go."
Jade sat up slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. "You don't have to."
"I do." Her voice cracked slightly. "This was… I shouldn't have—"
He cut her off. "Don't say it was a mistake."
She hesitated. "Wasn't it?"
His jaw clenched. "Maybe. But it didn't feel like one."
Kate hugged herself. "That's the problem."
Jade ran a hand through his hair, standing. The tension between them thickened like fog.
"You think I took advantage of you?" he asked, his voice lower now.
"No." She shook her head. "That's not it."
"Then what?"
"I don't belong here," she said. "In this bed. In this world. I'm just… I clean your towels."
His eyes flared, a storm brewing behind them. "You think that's all I see when I look at you?"
She didn't respond.
"You have no idea what last night meant to me."
"I wasn't trying to mean anything," she whispered. "You were grieving. I was… overwhelmed."
He stepped toward her, but she backed away. Her heels hit the edge of the rug.
"This doesn't end well, Mr. Williams," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
He flinched at the formality.
She reached for the door.
"I need to work."
"You don't have to pretend this never happened," he said.
Kate turned, her voice gentle but firm. "You'll go back to being you, and I'll go back to being invisible. That's how this works."
She left without another word.Downstairs, the morning rush had already begun. The head housekeeper was barking orders, breakfast trays were clattering, and two guests from London were asking for pressed suits before 9 a.m.
Kate threw herself into tasks—changing linens, scrubbing tiles, pretending everything was fine.
But her hands shook when she reached for a silver platter. And she burned her fingers pouring tea.
By lunchtime, the whispers started.
"He was up late again."
"Did you hear someone went into the master suite?"
"Was it her?"
Kate kept her head down. The other maids watched her more closely than usual, eyes narrowing, conversations pausing when she entered a room.
Her cheeks burned.
It didn't matter how carefully she cleaned the rooms or how politely she answered the guests. In their eyes, something had changed—and it wasn't just her uniform that felt too tight.
---
Back upstairs, Jade stood in his office, staring out the window.
He couldn't focus.
He hadn't planned to sleep with her. He didn't do that—never blurred lines, never mixed need with vulnerability. But last night, when he saw her standing there—soft eyes, gentle voice, no judgment—he cracked.
She had felt like air after drowning.
But now, all he could think about was the way she looked at him before leaving.
Like she'd already decided he wasn't worth the risk.
And for the first time in a long time…
That stung.