Chapter 3 It is, Jordan

Chloe gathered the clothes Theresa had instructed her to handle, her hands trembling slightly as she approached the laundry room. The towering piles of garments, some fresh from the dryer yet still requiring pressing, seemed overwhelming. A sharp pang of hunger gnawed at her stomach, and she squatted against the wall, pressing her hand over her abdomen.

"God I am so hungry..." she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"Hey."

The single word made her jerk upright. Jordan stood in the doorway, relaxed but impossible to ignore. There was a quiet pull to him, and the calm, teasing way he spoke made her catch her breath.

He held out a small package of sourdough bread and a medium pack of yogurt. "Have this."

Chloe blinked, surprised. For a fleeting moment, she forgot the oppressive weight of the mansion and the exhausting day.

She hesitated, unsure if she should feel grateful or flustered, then she allowed a small smile to spread across her face.

"Why are you blushing?" he asked, startling her.

"I am not blushing. I am just... smiling," she said quietly, wishing her face would stop betraying her.

"Well, your smile is blushing," he countered with a smirk.

"You are... silly," she muttered, cheeks warming.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "What did you say?"

"I said... thank you," she whispered, unsure why her chest tightened at his nearness.

"No. You said something else."

Chloe could not reply as they heard the sound.of approaching feet.

Before she could react, Jordan scooped up the snacks and, almost impossibly, dove into the broken industrial washing machine, disappearing behind its metallic bulk. Chloe quickly draped a bedsheet over it. Not sure why she did that.

Theresa appeared with another basket of laundry, heavy and brimming with expensive fabrics. "These belong to Mister Cavanaugh. I expect you to know that not everything goes in the machine. Handle carefully."

Then she added in a warning tone, "In fact, be very careful with everything you do here. Perhaps I should let you know, Lily could be a storm to handle sometimes. Jordan can be super sly and super devilish, like a ... puzzle. So beware. Their mother is, calculative. Observe and learn quickly. You will need it." She left as abruptly as she came, leaving Chloe breathless and a little more aware of the house's unspoken rules.

Jordan emerged from the shadows a moment later, carrying her untouched snack.

She stared at him; Super sly and super devilish. Plus, super handsome.

His grin was infuriatingly confident. "Yeah, I'm a super guy. And none of Theresa's warnings are the whole truth."

He handed her the meal. Chloe could not say no.

He yawned and stretched. "You are lucky I will be free for the rest of the evening, so l will help you iron this batch." He pointed to a heap by the corner.

Chloe felt herself drawn to him, she wanted to step back in caution but fascination rooted her to the spot.

"You want to help me?" She wasn't sure she had heard him right.

"Yup. Don't I look like a nice guy?" He opened a cabinet and selected an iron, then plucked a long, exquisite gown from a pile.

"So...you grew up in Nebraska?" he asked casually as he plugged in the iron.

"Yes," she answered, not sure why her heart was racing.

"Where? Countryside?" he pressed, his eyes scanning her features as if reading a secret.

"Why do you think so?" she asked, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. He had probably gone through her papers already.

He exhaled slowly, stretching the gown across the board. "You look... There's a groundedness about you. Different from the city air here."

Chloe almost dropped her bread. "Is that a compliment? Or you're being sarcastic?"

Mischief danced briefly in his eyes. "You can decide."

She finished her snack hastily, focusing on the laundry to steady her racing heart.

"Warning," he said suddenly, gesturing to another iron. "Do not make use of this one I am holding. It is quite faulty. You can make use of that green one instead."

Chloe gasped at the big triangular hole in Lily's dress just after the smell of something burning got to her nose.

"Oh my God, Mister Cavanaugh!" her trembling hands threw themselves across her mouth.

"What? Never seen a burnt gown? Tell whoever asks, that you used a faulty iron, cos you didn't know. And consider this, a lesson... and a gift," he said with an air of nonchalance.

"Think of it as a... uhm, payback. For calling Lily spoiled, and for enjoying your meal without owing me." He added.

"I don't understand you," she murmured, her voice breaking.

"Neither do I," he admitted, shrugging, eyes softening for the briefest instant. "But I have always wanted to see this gown like this. It is prettier now. By the way, it is, Jordan. Without the Mister bla bla." He winked and stepped back, leaving her to absorb the complexity of his presence.

The thought of twenty dollars an hour echoed in her mind, a faint comfort against the dizzying uncertainty of the house.