Addicted To His Disfigured Secret Lover

Evelyn slammed the heavy medical trust fund bill against Aracely's chest, the sharp edge of the thick folder biting into her skin. The thick stack of papers hit her collarbone hard, scattering across the hardwood floor of the second-floor hallway.

Aracely's vision blurred for a second. She crouched down. Her fingers shook as she picked up the papers. She saw the massive numbers printed at the bottom, and her stomach dropped.

Evelyn pulled out her phone. She shoved the screen into Aracely's face. It was a live video from the ICU. Grandmother lay there, a plastic oxygen mask strapped to her pale face. The heart monitor beeped weakly in the background.

"Do exactly what I say," Evelyn sneered. "Or I call the hospital right now and tell them to pull the plug."

Aracely lunged for the phone. Heavy hands clamped down on her shoulders. Evelyn's bodyguard forced her to her knees, pinning her in place.

Aracely closed her eyes. She sucked in a sharp breath. The air burned her lungs. For her grandmother's life, she ground her teeth together and nodded.

Evelyn smiled. She threw a piece of black silk at Aracely's face. "Put it on."

Evelyn sneered, waving her hand dismissively. She ordered the bodyguard to wait outside and firmly shut the heavy wooden door behind him. "I wouldn't let a dog see this pitiful sight," Evelyn mocked. Under Evelyn's cold, triumphant stare, Aracely stood frozen for a split second. A deep sense of humiliation burned in her chest, but the steady beep of her grandmother's heart monitor echoed in her mind, drowning out her pride. With trembling fingers, Aracely slowly stripped off her clothes. She pulled the black silk nightgown over her head. The fabric was freezing against her skin. She gripped the edges of the hem, her knuckles turning white.

Evelyn grabbed Aracely's wrist. Her nails dug into Aracely's skin. She dragged her down the hallway toward the heavy oak double doors.

"Not a single sound." Evelyn whispered harshly. She shoved Aracely into the pitch-black master bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind her. The lock turned. The hallway light was gone. The room was completely dark.

Aracely pressed her back against the wooden door. Her chest heaved. A strong scent of cedar and tobacco hit her nose.

Fabric rustled across the room. Someone sat up on the King-size bed.

Brennen Levine rubbed his temples. His head throbbed with a blinding pain. He hadn't slept in days. The noise at the door made the veins in his neck pulse.

"Get out." Brennen ordered. His voice was rough, dripping with irritation. He thought it was his new, vain wife.

Aracely stopped breathing. She turned and grabbed the brass door handle. She twisted it frantically.

It was locked from the outside. The rattling sound echoed in the silent room.

Brennen lost his patience. He threw the covers off. His bare feet hit the floor. He walked straight toward the door in the dark.

Aracely felt a massive wave of heat approaching her. She tried to step back, but her back was already flat against the wood. A large, iron-like hand clamped around her wrist.

Brennen yanked her forward with the force of a tidal wave. Her slender body crashed into his hard, unyielding chest, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. His hot hand gripped her wrist so tightly she felt the bone might snap. He opened his mouth to yell, his eyes blazing with dark fury in the pitch blackness, but then-he stopped. A sudden, sweet scent drifted up from her skin and filled his lungs. It was natural gardenia. It was the exact, faint scent she had inherited from her mother's bloodline, a unique mark of the women in her family. The scent hit his brain like a heavy sedative. The agonizing pain behind his eyes, a torment he had endured for days, vanished instantly. He felt a jolt of shock ripple through his tense muscles. How could a scent do this? His rational mind scrambled for an answer, but his body was already surrendering to the overwhelming relief.

Brennen froze. His muscles locked. He lowered his head and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He took a deep, desperate breath.

His hot breath scorched her skin. Aracely flinched. She brought her hands up and pushed against his solid chest.

Her resistance triggered something dark inside him. Brennen grabbed her narrow waist. He slammed her back against the door.

He used his massive frame to pin her down. He lowered his head and captured her trembling lips without warning.

Aracely's eyes widened in the dark. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She thought of the hospital machines keeping her grandmother alive. She went limp and stopped fighting.

The darkness hid her face. Brennen was completely addicted to her scent. He lost all control. He swept her off her feet and threw her onto the mattress.

Hours later, the violent storm ended. Brennen fell into a deep, heavy sleep. His breathing was steady.

At three in the morning, Aracely's whole body ached. She carefully slid out from under his heavy arm.

She found her torn silk nightgown on the floor. She slipped it on. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet. She unlocked the door and slipped out into the hallway.

The morning sun pierced through the curtains. Brennen snapped his eyes open. The bed beside him was empty. Only that maddening scent remained on the sheets. He slammed his hand on the intercom.

"Arthur," Brennen growled. "Get in here and find her."

Aracely walked into the Hickman villa living room. The morning rain had soaked her clothes. She stood in the center of the room, shivering, her face pale.

Evelyn sat on the velvet sofa. She slapped a Non-Disclosure Agreement onto the coffee table. "Sign it."

Aracely picked up the pen. She didn't hesitate. She signed her name, desperate for the right to visit the hospital.

Evelyn scoffed. She tossed a clear plastic box at Aracely's feet. Inside was a realistic silicone scar.

"Put it on," Evelyn ordered. "The safest place to hide a secret is under his nose. Brennen loathes anything 'imperfect'-this scar will be your best shield. He'll never deign to look at a monster twice."

Aracely stared at the grotesque piece of silicone. Bile rose in her throat. But the image of the ventilator flashed in her mind. She bent down and picked up the box.

She walked into the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror. She applied the pungent, chemical-smelling glue and pressed the ugly scar from her left eye down to her jawline.

The stunning beauty in the mirror was gone. A monster stared back. Aracely put on thick, black-rimmed glasses to hide her sharp eyes.

An hour later, Aracely walked into the grand foyer of the Levine Estate. She wore a scratchy, gray maid's uniform and carried a heavy bucket of water.

Martha Holloway, the head housekeeper, took one look at her face and stepped back. Disgust flashed in Martha's eyes.

"You do not show that face to Mr. Levine," Martha warned sharply. "You clean the corners. Stay out of sight."

Aracely lowered her head. She took her rag and started wiping a tall Ming dynasty vase in the corner.

The heavy front doors slammed open. Brennen stormed back into the foyer, his coat disheveled from a frantic morning search of the grounds.

Arthur followed him, tablet in hand. "Sir, the security footage was wiped. Also... the GPS on Madam's car shows she never left her family home last night. The woman in your room was an intruder."

Brennen ripped his tie loose. His jaw was tight. The intense high from last night left him with zero patience today.

His eyes scanned the foyer. His gaze landed on the gray figure wiping the vase in the corner.

The curve of her back. The slope of her shoulders. It was the exact same body his hands had memorized in the dark.

Brennen stopped walking. His leather shoes went silent on the marble. The air pressure in the room dropped.

Aracely heard the footsteps stop. Her spine went rigid. The wet rag left a streak on the porcelain vase.

Brennen narrowed his eyes. He walked straight toward the corner.

His tall shadow swallowed her. "Turn around," he ordered.

Aracely had nowhere to run. She turned around slowly. She kept her chin tucked to her chest, staring at the tips of his polished shoes.

Brennen saw her fingers curling tightly into her palms. The familiarity hit him hard.

He lost his patience. He reached out and grabbed her chin. He forced her head up.

Aracely's long eyelashes fluttered. Her clear eyes crashed into his deep stare.

Brennen's heart skipped a beat. But then his eyes dropped to her cheek. He saw the dark red, mangled scar stretching across her face.

Instead of the divine scent from last night, the acrid smell of the adhesive hit him. The violent contrast triggered a wave of nausea. He let go of her chin instantly. He took two steps back in pure disgust.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped the fingers that had touched her skin. "Martha," he snapped. "Since when did my estate become a homeless shelter?"

Aracely lowered her head again, hiding the humiliation in her eyes. Brennen threw the handkerchief into the trash can. He turned and walked up the stairs without looking back.

Brennen stepped onto the third stair. A draft of air swept through the foyer behind him. A faint, sweet scent of gardenia hit his nose.

He stopped dead in his tracks. He whipped around. He stared at the maid in the corner like a panther locking onto prey.

Aracely felt his gaze burning into her back. Her fingers gripped the wet rag so hard her knuckles turned white. Her nails bit into her palms.

Brennen walked back down the stairs. His face was dark. He didn't believe his nose was lying to him.

He reached out. He was going to grab the collar of her uniform and pull her close.

The sharp clack of high heels echoed from the second floor.

Evelyn rushed down the stairs in a custom designer dress. She wedged herself perfectly between Brennen and the maid.

"Darling, you're home." Evelyn said. She wrapped her arms around his bicep. Her voice was sickeningly sweet.

Brennen yanked his arm away. He pointed at Aracely, who was shaking with her head down. "Who is this ugly creature? And why does she smell like that?"

Evelyn felt a spike of panic pierce her chest, but she quickly masked it, raising her voice so everyone in the grand foyer could hear. "The poor thing was disfigured in a horrific fire, Brennen. That smell is just a cheap, backwater herbal burn ointment made from white cicada flowers. The country folk use it all the time. It has this sickly sweet, fake gardenia stench to it that lingers forever." She pinched her nose delicately, adding a look of exaggerated disgust to sell the lie.

Brennen frowned. "Cheap ointment?" His rational mind told him that scent was not medicine. But the idea that he had slept with this monster was too absurd.

Aracely played along with Evelyn's lie. She shrank her shoulders and made herself look small and pathetic.

Brennen stared at the scene. He felt ridiculous. His insomnia had driven him insane. He actually thought a burned maid was the perfect woman from last night.

He waved his hand in disgust. "Keep your charity cases out of my sight, Evelyn. Don't let her dirty my carpets."

Evelyn nodded quickly. She turned to Aracely. Her face twisted with malice. "Get to the kitchen and wash the dishes. Now."

Aracely picked up her bucket. She kept her head down. She hurried down the hallway toward the servant quarters, making sure to keep her posture hunched and her shoulders curled inward to maintain her pathetic facade.

Brennen walked into his massive mahogany study. He fell into his leather chair. He ripped open the top two buttons of his shirt.

The lack of sleep crashed over him. His temples throbbed violently. His vision blurred at the edges.

Arthur knocked and entered. He placed a glass of warm water and a bottle of strong prescription sleeping pills on the desk.

Brennen stared at the white pills. Rage flared in his chest. His body was completely immune to the chemicals now.

He closed his eyes. The image of the ugly maid's clear, stubborn eyes flashed in his mind.

Those eyes merged perfectly with the feeling of the woman crying in his arms last night.

Brennen snapped his eyes open. He grabbed the glass pill bottle. He hurled it across the room.

The bottle shattered against the wall. White pills scattered across the floor. Arthur flinched and kept his head down.

Brennen breathed heavily. He hated losing control. He hated that a low-class maid was stuck in his head.

"Arthur." Brennen said. His voice was like ice.

Arthur stopped picking up the glass. "Yes, sir?"

"Take that disfigured maid out of the kitchen. Her only job is to clean the hallway outside my study."

Arthur looked up in shock. He didn't understand why his boss wanted the ugliest thing in the house right outside his door.

Brennen sneered. He didn't explain. He was going to watch her closely. He was going to prove to himself that his instincts were wrong.

Down in the kitchen, Aracely was scrubbing a greasy pan. Martha walked in. Her face was cold. She told Aracely about the job transfer. Aracely dried her hands. A cold knot of dread formed in her stomach.