Chapter 4 The unexpected encounter

It was nearing dusk when Maya found herself back in the library, restocking the shelves with the latest deliveries. The scent of old paper and cedar filled the room, calming in a way most places in the estate weren't. The house was winding down for the evening, the noise quieting to a hush outside the tall windows as twilight settled over the grounds.

She worked carefully, aligning the spines of the books, matching titles with the catalog sheet tucked into her apron pocket. It was the kind of solitary task she appreciated-quiet, efficient, uninterrupted.

Or so she thought.

A shadow moved across the far end of the room. She turned, startled, and found Alexander standing in the doorway, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt as he walked in.

"Sorry," he said smoothly. "Didn't mean to startle you."

Maya straightened immediately. "Good evening, Mr. Ashbourne. I didn't expect anyone this late."

"I needed a break from the desk," he said, tossing his cufflinks into a small porcelain dish on the sideboard. "Thought I'd finish the last few pages of a report in here. It's quieter than the study."

He glanced around, then took in her presence again. "You're still working?"

"I'm just finishing the re-shelving."

"You've been on your feet since morning."

She gave a small nod, not sure what else to say.

Alexander stepped further in, his shirt sleeves now rolled to the elbow, the soft fabric clinging slightly to his arms. He didn't look like a man who belonged behind a desk-there was a natural authority in the way he moved, effortless but firm. The kind of presence that drew attention even in silence.

"You know," he said, walking toward the shelf beside her, "most people don't treat their jobs with half the commitment you do."

"I've always believed in doing things properly," she replied, brushing a bit of dust from the spine of an older volume.

He watched her for a beat. "You're not like the others who've worked here. You're steady. Intentional."

She looked up, unsure how to respond. "I just do what I'm paid for."

"No," he said quietly, "you do far more than that."

There was a pause, long enough that she felt his gaze settle on her, warm and unflinching. She busied herself aligning the last few books, but her fingers trembled slightly as she did.

"You're always so guarded," he said after a moment.

Maya met his eyes. "I've learned to be."

A trace of something passed through his expression-understanding, maybe, or recognition.

"I used to think walls made people stronger," he said. "But sometimes, they just keep the right people out."

The statement hung between them, soft and loaded. Maya felt her pulse pick up.

Alexander stepped closer, not invading her space but closing the distance enough that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the quiet fatigue in his eyes, and the trace of something gentler behind his controlled exterior.

"I've noticed the way you avoid me," he said.

She inhaled slowly. "I don't-"

"You do. You think I haven't seen it, but I have. You disappear the moment I enter a room. You speak only when necessary. You don't look at me unless I'm not looking back."

She felt her breath catch. There was no accusation in his tone, no ego-just fact, stated plainly.

"I don't mean to offend," she said, barely above a whisper. "It's not personal."

"That's just it," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "I think it is."

Maya stepped back instinctively, her hand brushing against the edge of the mahogany shelf behind her. The wood was cool, grounding.

"I'm your employee," she said, trying to keep her voice even.

"And I haven't forgotten that," he replied. "But being your employer doesn't mean I'm blind."

"To what?"

"To you."

He was close now-closer than anyone had been in a long time. The room was dim, the shadows long and soft, and in that moment, the rest of the world seemed to fold away.

Maya swallowed hard, heart beating louder than she wanted it to.

"This isn't appropriate," she said, more to herself than to him.

"Maybe not," he said, his voice low, thoughtful. "But it's real."

She didn't know how it happened, exactly-one minute she was gripping the shelf, the next, his hand was lightly resting on the wood beside hers. Not touching her, not yet, but near enough that she felt the heat of it.

His eyes searched hers. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You haven't," she said, a little too quickly.

His expression changed then, subtly-softened, warmed. "Then tell me to walk away, and I will."

Maya stood still. Her mouth opened, but no words came. She didn't want him to walk away. Not really.

"I can't offer you easy," he said quietly. "But I can be honest."

She found her voice. "Why me?"

His answer came without hesitation. "Because when I watch you, I see someone who doesn't try to be anything she's not. Because you see things no one else sees. And because for the first time in a long while, I feel like I want to be seen."

The silence returned, but this time it was filled with something different. Weight. Chemistry. Possibility.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he reached for her hand. His fingers grazed hers-barely a brush, but it sent a shiver up her spine.

Maya didn't move away.

Neither of them spoke.

Then a knock sounded faintly on the doorframe-sharp, sudden, and jarring.

They both turned.

Rachel stood at the threshold, her face neutral but her eyes sharp. "Mr. Ashbourne," she said, her voice even, "your sister just called. She needs you to review the estate documents for the fundraiser this weekend."

Alexander nodded, his jaw tightening. "Thank you. I'll be there shortly."

Rachel's gaze shifted to Maya for the briefest moment-cold, assessing-before she turned and disappeared.

The moment was broken.

Alexander exhaled slowly, then looked at Maya. "We'll talk again," he said gently.

Maya gave a silent nod, her heart still racing.

He walked away, leaving behind the faint scent of cedar wood and something deeper-something that lingered long after the door clicked shut.

Maya leaned against the shelf for support, her fingers still tingling from the brief contact.

The chemistry between them was undeniable now. Not just in passing glances or quiet admiration-but something real. Tangible. Growing.

And somewhere in the corners of the estate, someone had just noticed.