Millie’s footsteps sounded too loud on the hardwood in the quiet hallway.
Every step toward the study felt longer than it should, like the silence was stretching everything out.
She barely raised her hand to knock before a low voice came through the door.
“Come in.”
She pushed it open.
The study smelled like leather, ink, and old books.
Ethan sat behind a big desk covered in files and papers, head down as he read something.
“Pour me a glass,” he said without looking up.
Millie walked to the sideboard.
The glass clinked softly while she poured, her hands a little shaky.
The brandy smell hit her—strong and warm.
She carried it over and set it on the desk in front of him.
Only then did Ethan look up.
“Sit.”
She did, sinking into the chair across from him.
His eyes—ice blue and steady—locked onto hers.
No warmth, no smile, nothing like what she’d seen in his brothers.
“I have to say,” he started, “I didn’t expect to see you on staff.
Out of everyone they looked at…”
“I didn’t know,” Millie said, hating how her voice wobbled.
He took a sip.
“That little stunt you pulled told me everything I needed.
You’re impulsive.
You don’t follow rules.
Those aren’t things I put up with.”
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Moretti.
I wasn’t trying to—”
“Your strong suit seems to be pushing back, not serving,” he said, his eyes moving over her.
“Do yourself a favor, Ms. Foster.
Quit now.
Before your nosiness gets you into something you can’t handle.”
“Please, I—I didn’t realize…” Millie tried again, but he stopped her with a quick lift of his hand.
“You ignored a direct order. In my world, that comes with consequences. Forgiveness isn’t free—it’s earned.” His eyes narrowed a little.
“And mine isn’t cheap. I don’t think you’re ready to pay what it costs.”
Her throat felt tight.
He hadn’t yelled.
He didn’t have to.
That calm, steady control was scarier than shouting.
“I get why you’re worried, Mr. Moretti. But I need this job. I’ll show you I can handle it,” she said, making herself hold his gaze.
She couldn’t walk away—not when she needed the money, and definitely not when it would look like she was running.
“Show me?” he repeated.
“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
“Give me a week,” she said.
“If I mess up, I’ll go. Quietly. No drama.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk.
“A week,” he said.
“You sound pretty confident. What makes you think you won’t let me down?”
Millie swallowed.
She could leave right now, but something stubborn kept her in the chair.
“I work hard. I pick things up fast,” she said.
“I screwed up once. It won’t happen again.”
Ethan stood and turned toward the window.
She stayed put, heart pounding in her ears.
When he faced her again, the light behind him made his outline stand out clearly.
“Why should I believe a word you say?
You acted like my house was yours to play in.”
“Just one week,” she said.
“One chance to prove I can do better.”
He stepped closer.
His eyes never left hers.
“And if you actually convince me,” he said, “what do you want out of it?”
Her skin tingled, but she didn’t look away.
“You let me stay,” she said.
“I’ll follow every rule. Do whatever you tell me. You can test me. I can listen.”
His jaw tightened just a bit.
“I don’t throw the word ‘obedience’ around lightly, Miss Foster.”
He moved even closer—close enough that her breath hitched.
“Are you sure you know what that really means?”
Her chest squeezed.
“I… I think so.”
“Saying you’re sincere is easy,” Ethan said.
“I need to see it. How far are you actually willing to go?”
Sweat trickled down her temple.
“I mean it. I won’t let you down,” she said.
“Please—just let me prove it.”
The corner of his mouth lifted the tiniest bit.
“Then start right now. Lock the door.”
Millie blinked.
“Lock the door?”
His eyes stayed on hers.
“It’s a simple request, Miss Foster.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She glanced at the door, then back at him.
He wasn’t yelling.
He didn’t have to.
The words just hung there, heavy and waiting.
She got it then—this wasn’t really about a lock.
It was about seeing if she’d do what he said.
“I don’t know what this is about,” she said, her voice catching.
“You said you’d do whatever I ask,” Ethan said quietly.
“Or was that just talk?”
Heat rushed through her—fear mixed with something else.
Pride fought with common sense.
She paused—then turned the lock.
The click sounded huge in the quiet room.
When she turned back, her breath caught.
Ethan hadn’t moved, but the air felt different now.
Thicker.
Electric.
He watched her like he was waiting to see her next move.
“There.
Done.”
“A smart choice,” Ethan said, stepping back just enough to give her space.
“Or a stupid one. We’ll find out.”
Her heart was racing so hard she thought it might jump out.
Was this a test?
A trick?
Some kind of power play?
Probably all of it—but she wasn’t backing down now.
She made herself walk closer to him.
“You’ll see I’m serious, Mr. Moretti,” she said.
He walked a slow circle around her—not fast, not relaxed.
When he stopped behind her, she felt his warm breath on her neck.
“You locked the door. That was choice number one. Now make another.”
He stepped in front of her again, close enough that she caught the faint smell of brandy and clean clothes.
His eyes moved down her, then back up, like he could see right through the uniform.
Her breathing stumbled.
“What now?”
His gaze locked on hers.
“Take your clothes off.”
Millie stepped back like the words had pushed her.
Heat flooded her face and neck.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” he said.
“This is your first real test. Do it, and you get the week you asked for. Say no, and you can pack tonight.”
She stared at his face, searching for any sign he was joking.
Nothing.
“Is this actually about me being sincere,” she asked, quieter now, “or just about you having control?”
“Both,” he said.
“It’s about both, Miss Foster.”
Her body felt frozen, but her mind was spinning.
He wasn’t touching her.
Not even close.
And still, she’d never felt so bare.
Her fingers shook at the bottom of her uniform shirt.
She didn’t move yet—but she didn’t run either.