Aidan’s head turned toward Millie fast.
His blue eyes gave nothing away.
“Tell my father,” he said, voice short, “that Marionne is fine. She’s on a yacht somewhere with her friends.”
Mr. Jameson shook his head.
“She’s back in London.”
London.
The word landed hard.
Millie’s heart started pounding.
Aidan’s face changed—got darker, like a storm rolling in.
He muttered something under his breath, took a long drink of coffee, then pushed his chair back and stood.
As he walked past Millie, she saw how tight his jaw was.
Marionne.
Who was Marionne?
Something heavy settled in Millie’s stomach.
Whatever the answer, she had a feeling it wouldn’t feel good.
Mr. Jameson was the last one to leave the table.
Breakfast service finally ended.
Clara and Millie started clearing plates.
Clara leaned close, voice low.
“So… has Aidan said anything to you yet?”
Millie shrugged, stacking plates on the tray.
“Yeah. Last night. He apologized for disappearing and not calling when he got back to Atlanta.”
Clara’s eyebrows went up.
“That doesn’t sound terrible. You okay?”
Millie gave a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Her mind was still stuck on Marionne, London, and the nagging thought that this woman was probably the real reason Aidan vanished a year ago.
“So… are you two back together or something?” Clara asked, bumping her elbow lightly.
Millie shook her head.
“No. We were never really together in the first place.”
Clara looked disappointed for a second, and Millie got it.
It should’ve been more.
But keeping things vague made it easier to handle.
Easier to pretend she wasn’t standing too close to something that could hurt.
Naming it gave it power.
“Okay,” Clara said quietly.
She glanced around before looking back at Millie.
“But do you even know who Marionne is? Did Aidan say?”
Millie shrugged again, trying to play it off even though her stomach twisted.
“Nope. And honestly, I don’t really care.”
That was a lie.
She was dying to know.
Who was this woman Aidan didn’t want to talk about?
Why did her name feel like a secret nobody wanted out?
“Sure you don’t,” Clara said, one eyebrow raised.
She wasn’t buying it.
“Come on. Let’s get this stuff to the kitchen.”
Millie followed her, the weight in her chest growing heavier.
Marionne was just a name, but names carried weight.
And this one felt like trouble.
After breakfast, Millie threw herself into laundry duty.
She needed something normal to focus on.
Her arms full of clean sheets, she hurried down the hallway.
She turned a corner and almost ran right into Sheila.
“There you are, Amelia!” Sheila said, startled but calm.
“Mr. Jameson wants to see you in his office.”
Millie’s stomach knotted.
Mr. Jameson always made her nervous.
“Did he say why?”
Sheila shook her head.
“No, just asked me to tell you.” She took the stack of laundry from Millie’s arms with a firm but kind look.
“I’ll handle this. You go. You know how he is—he doesn’t like waiting.”
Millie nodded quick.
“Thanks.” She turned and headed toward the office wing.
Her footsteps echoed in the hallway, matching the anxious rhythm in her head.
Whatever this was, she doubted it would be good news.
Right before she reached the office, she almost walked into a solid chest.
Evan.
He grinned, completely relaxed.
“Well, look who it is. I was starting to think I’d have to search the whole house to deliver my dare, Miss Troublemaker.”
“I’m not playing your games, Mr. Moretti.”
“Evan,” he corrected.
“Come on, that’s cold. I took your dare like a champ. Humiliation, a lecture from Jameson about my ‘reckless behavior,’ the works. All for your entertainment. And now you’re quitting? That’s harsh, Millie. Truly harsh.”
She crossed her arms.
“And I’m so sorry, Mr. Moretti—”
“Evan,” he said again, more serious this time.
“Please.”
There was something different in his voice—still playful, but softer.
Enough to make her pause.
“Look, I know it was stupid and reckless. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry.” Millie let out a breath, shoulders dropping.
“And I’m sorry, but I’m done. Find another way to have fun.”
“Find another way to have fun?” Evan repeated, looking genuinely confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“You want payback. Let’s not pretend. I get it—”
“Payback?” He held up his hands like he was stopping traffic.
“This isn’t about getting even. I kept my end of the deal. I walked to the house naked.”
Millie bit the inside of her cheek.
Heat crept up her neck as the picture flashed in her mind.
“And again—I’m sorry. But I’m still not doing it.”
For a second, his grin faded—really faded—then came back full force.
“Heading to Jameson’s office?”
She hesitated.
“Yeah. He asked for me.”
“Perfect.” Evan clapped once, way too happy.
“I’ll walk with you. I need to talk to him anyway.”
Millie narrowed her eyes.
“About what?”
He leaned in a little, eyes sparkling.
“I might have to mention that a certain maid doubted I was a real Moretti. Something about making me prove it by running around naked.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Evan’s grin got bigger.
“You wound me. So little trust.”
He straightened up, voice going fake-formal.
“Shall we?”
Millie felt a mix of annoyance and amusement bubble up.
“Are you seriously blackmailing me?”
He gasped, hand on his chest.
“Blackmail? That hurts. I’m insulted. Deeply.”
She rolled her eyes, fighting a laugh.
“You’re impossible.” She huffed, but a smile tugged at her mouth.
“Fine. You win. What’s the dare?”
Evan leaned closer, voice dropping to a playful whisper.
“Patience, Miss Troublemaker. Your dare is coming… very soon.”
He winked.