'What the hell? Is he implying that I'm not worthy to even touch him?'
My eyes narrowed into a piercing glare, making no secret of my irritation at his insensitive comment. I didn't make this rule for a noble purpose such as to protect my virginity. No, I lost my first time to a cheating asshole during my years in high school. And of course the rule isn't because I find Isaac hideous - He was the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. I wanted to make sure I wasn't being taken advantage of, and I didn't expect him to take offence or to say I was undesirable. He had genuinely hurt my feelings.
"Carry on, Miss Thomas." His tone was sharp with impatience, a stark contrast to the gentleman he had been just a moment ago. I closely watched his bouncing legs shift into an energetically erratic rhythm. The frantic, jittery motion made the entire room feel suffocating.
"I want a percentage of my payment transferred every fortnight," I uttered, seizing the chance to propose additional rules as safeguards.
"Anything else?" He inquired while diligently typing on his keyboard.
"Yeah, I guess, is that you're never violent towards me."
He chuckled unexpectedly, his blue irises glimmering in the fluorescent light. He treated my term like a punchline to a joke only he understood. A hot flush of shame crept up my neck, prompting me to question whether my rule was childish or ridiculous to him.
"You can rest assured that I will not lay a finger on you, Miss Thomas." He answered with a gentle smile, though it did nothing to ease the humiliation tightening my chest.
Aiming to conceal the grimace on my features, I digressed to a lighter topic.
"You can call me Chloe. I prefer that over my surname." I tried to bridge the cumbersome distance between us, but my efforts were in vain.
"Unfortunately, I cannot grant your request. I prefer that we maintain a professional relationship at all times." He crossed his legs, appearing more relaxed than earlier.
"Okay, that's fine." I conformed in defeat. I suppose it made sense for us to keep it strictly professional when we have an employer-employee arrangement.
"Are those all of your conditions?" He asked in a low and perfectly level tone.
"Yes," I affirmed, earning a crooked smile from him.
Although he carried himself with a flawless and aristocratic elegance, his eccentric mannerisms betrayed a mind that made you wonder what else it was hiding.
"In that case, I agree to all three conditions."
For several agonising minutes, the only sound was the tapping of his fingers on the keyboard. He didn't look away for long, occasionally averting his eyes in my direction with a look of pure, clinical intrigue. My mouth parted slightly as the intensity emanating from his gaze sent tingles through my spine.
"Now, the following terms are non-negotiable and binding. If you do not agree, then the contract will not proceed." The polite façade vanished, and his words struck the air with the cold weight of an ultimatum.
"I understand." I fumbled with the bottom of my blouse in anticipation.
'Was he going to be one of those tyrannical bosses?'
"Rule 1: You will adhere to all of my requests without question."
'Huh? That's pretty ambiguous.'
The sheer nonchalance in his delivery told me everything I needed to know - to him, my free will didn't even register as a factor. As if he had read my mind, he promptly elaborated.
"This will vary from household chores, business meetings or formal affairs, and assistance during my hobbies."
"Oh, I-I see…" I replied, still confused about my role.
"Rule 2: You will not leave this house, speak to anyone, or do anything, without my permission."
"What the hell?!" I exclaimed immediately in protest. "Those conditions are way too oppressive."
My outburst didn't shock him. He had seen it coming, and the cold calculation in his eyes told me I had just become an inconvenience he intended to rectify.
"I am an exceptionally private man with unmeasurable success and an indefinite amount of competitors who will stop at nothing to infiltrate my fortress, if you call it, and destroy it from the inside." His chest fell with a slow, heavy exhale, burying his irritation behind a mask of total calm.
"These rules are in place to not only protect my work, but also my peace of mind. You are more than welcome to leave if you do not wish to proceed with our arrangement." His blue eyes pinned me like a pair of sharp blades, waiting for me to bleed out a response. A man doesn't simply reach his level of wealth and stature by accident. I had crossed the threshold into his domain and I needed to make a choice - either I play by his rules, or get out before I was totally outmatched.
"I want to hear the rest of your terms, sir." The words felt like chalk on my tongue. It left a thick, bitter taste that was swallowed by an emotion I yielded to the most - desperation.
"Very well. I ask that you please reserve your comments to the end. Questions are permitted, however, rude interruptions are a waste of time." He leaned closer, his eyelids narrowing into a stare that felt like a physical weight. It was the glimpse of a man who didn't negotiate, nor compromise, and whose sheer resolve could break the most resilient souls alive. "Time is money, Miss Thomas. And my time is very precious."
"Sorry, I won't interrupt." I forced down the lump in my throat, refusing to let him see me struggling to breathe. His mere presence was so intense that I stopped trying to resist. I quietly gave into him. At least for now.
"Rule 3: You will be provided with a new phone and laptop, and therefore you cannot use your own devices, which will be confiscated and returned to you at the completion of our contact. There will be access and internet restrictions too."
'This is so overkill. I doubt this is even ethical! But it's not like I can refute it either. This was private employment, and he could technically set whatever conditions he wanted.'
"Rule 4: You must always stay by my side, unless I say otherwise." My lips parted into a gape, shellshocked by the outlandish position I've gotten myself in.
"Rule 5: The contract cannot be terminated once it has been signed and will last up to a year."
'I can't believe he's still going on.'
"Rule 6: Whatever happens during the course of your employment will remain confidential and is not to be disclosed to third parties, in any capacity, otherwise it will constitute a breach of the contact."
He cleared his throat, taking a measured sip from a glass of what I presume to be expensive mineral water. With a few brisk strokes on his keyboard, he printed the contract, letting it slide across the polished table toward me with two fingers.
"Any breach of contract will resort in severe consequences, am I clear?"
"Crystal," I gritted through clenched teeth. "But I have another term I want added."
His expression flattened into one of detached boredom. He was transparently weary of our exchange and impatient for the matter to be finalised so he could get on with his day.
"What is it, Miss Thomas?"
"You'll let me speak to my brother anytime I want."
His visage grew sour, unmistakeably displeased by my condition.
"I cannot agree–"
"This is non-negotiable, Mr Hoffmann. My brother is very sick and I won't forgive myself if I don't check in with him daily to make sure he's alright."
His irritation was no match for my persistence. A flicker of realisation crossed his features, and I knew right then that I had won.
"Weekly calls under my supervision to ensure information is not leaked. Do we have an agreement?"
He swiftly amended the contract to incorporate my new term, printing the updated pages before sliding them back across the table for my signature. My head began spinning with nerves as it finally dawned on me that this was it. But was I ready to sell my soul to him?
I nibbled profusely on my bottom lip in contemplation. He didn't force me to sign it, I could just walk away and never look back. However, that would mean I'd lose the only chance to save Joel's life. Shaking off any doubts, I immediately signed the contract, sealing my fate. He took the document the second my pen lifted, sliding it out of my reach before I could even blink.
"You start today." He sounded pleased, the way you'd imagine the devil would closing an unbreakable deal. Fortunately, his demeanour was too harmless for me to experience any apprehension. Besides, informing Joel about my new job was on top of the to-do-list right now.
"Can I go home for a few hours? I'll be back in the afternoon."
"That's not necessary, I can–"
"I know, but I really need to tell my brother about working as a stay-in maid." I interrupted, invoking him to knit his eyebrows sternly. "I promise not to mention any specifics."
He seemed sceptical and reluctant to grant my request. His hesitation to approve even a few hours' leave made no logical sense. It wasn't as though I were trying to escape - how could I when the contract ensured he would effectively own my life for the next year. The least he could do is allow me to say goodbye to Joel.
"Please... I need time with him," I pleaded desperately, hoping it would appeal to his emotions. He let out a sharp exhale, springing to his feet.
"Alright, but you must return in 3 hours."
"I will, I promise."
He nodded in agreement, before guiding me outside. I was unbelievably relieved that he had a heart. Maybe our time together wouldn't be so bad. We might eventually get along too.
Even if I managed to get out of the house for a few hours, I still had a massive issue to confront. There was no version of this conversation where Joel took the news well.
-------
"You're gonna do what with a guy?!" Joel shouted furiously. He was younger, but he wasn't naive. The moment I told him about the contract, he'd see right through my calm exterior to the sheer desperation that had forced my hand, and the guilt of that would devastate him.
"It's a maid slash assistant position, not a sex worker." I justified, inducing him to cringe at the thought.
"Firstly, that's gross. And secondly, I don't feel comfortable with you living in some stranger's house!"
"Trust me, the guy is harmless from what I've seen." Minus the absolutely suffocating contract and his textbook god complex, he actually played the perfect gentleman. Well, right up until the moments he didn't.
"You don't even know him well enough to form that opinion!"
Joel was completely losing it, and I'd never seen him like this. He paced back and forth, burning through his own adrenaline, occasionally locking eyes with me just long enough to let me know how badly I'd screwed up.
"First you work at some sketchy... Gentlemen's club, and now this."
"Wait, how'd you know about that?" I inquired, mildly thrown he had somehow found out.
"Your so-called boss, Caine, called the landline this morning asking for you to come back." His answer forced a cold shudder down my spine, the sheer sordidness of it instantly souring my stomach.
"What did you say to him?" My arms clamped defensively against my ribs, completely floored by the sheer nerve it took for him to track down my landline less than twelve hours after I walked out.
"I told him to fuck off and don't call here again." He spoke with a blunt, matter-of-fact certainty that coaxed an involuntary laugh from my lips. I was proud of him. Unfortunately, my playfulness did not pacify him. "I'll pull my weight more and look for real jobs. I can take a break from my art and dedicate a few years to low-end jobs until we can get back on our feet."
"Joel, what about paying for chemo? Even if we both ger low paying jobs, we still can't afford your treatment."
Even as my voice broke, anchoring the truth out loud served as a fierce reminder of what I was fighting for, hardening my determination to see this through.
"We have no choice. I can't lose you too." My admission dissolved into a mere breath, sounding less like an explanation to him and more like a private vow.
The tension bled right out of his shoulders, his expression shifting from anger to pure empathy. He stepped in close and wrapped his arms around me, burying me in a strong embrace that felt like a shield against everything outside these walls. It was the kind of crushing hug he used to give me when we were kids and the world got too loud - warm, solid, and utterly unyielding. Leaning into his shoulder, I realised that even though I was the older sibling trying to save him, right now, he was the one holding me together.
"A world without you is one not living in, Chlo."
The sentiment hit me like a physical blow, a quiet shockwave that vibrated deep within my body and left me momentarily paralysed. In my desperation to preserve his life, I had totally underestimated how fiercely he was guarding mine.
"I don't want you putting yourself in harm's way because of me."
"Joel, that's not wh–"
Before I could finish, his hands locked onto my shoulders, gently but firmly creating space between us. He stared directly into my eyes, his expression was a painful collision of panic and grief, searching my face as if looking for a promise I wasn't sure I could keep.
"When people like us go missing, Chlo, no one comes looking. We live in a system that doesn't care about us. We don't matter."
I let his words sink into my heart, giving it a chance to persuade me to make a different choice. But my decision was already set in stone.
"You're all I have left after Mum and Dad," I murmured under my breath, causing him to hold and squeeze me tighter.
"This is all my fault," he exclaimed in a voice that was entirely hollow.
"It isn't. You have no control over what cancer does."
"This isn't your burden to bear."
We were cut from the same uncompromising cloth, but his resolve was no match for mine.
"I need to do this. I promise I'll be safe."
"How do I know you're safe if I can't contact you daily?" He croaked, raw with the unspoken terror of possibly losing me. "You're gonna be on your own, Chlo. I won't be there to protect you."
"I'm a smart girl, I won't let anything happen to me." His shoulders sagged with a heavy sigh and his jaw tightened as he looked away in frustration.
"Don't make me regret this."
Hoping to ease the weight of the moment, I offered a reassuring smile. It didn't work. We simply leaned into a tight, lingering hug, grounding each other in the silence of the room until it was time for me to depart.
-------
My hands had barely left the door handle before Isaac intercepted me, his polite chivalry masking how closely he was watching my return. He carried my belongings up the sweeping staircase and opened the door to my new bedroom. It was beautifully decorated, a massive space that could have swallowed my old apartment whole.
I suppose to him, this room was a monument to his own generosity, a calculated attempt to shift the power dynamic through sheer aesthetics. It had the exact opposite effect. Luxury is just a more comfortable form of confinement. He didn't design a sanctuary, but had just built a prettier cage - a glaring reminder of exactly what I'd traded my freedom for to fund my brother's medical bills.
"I hope this room is to your liking, Miss Thomas." He carefully placed my suitcase down.
"Yes, thank you," I answered politely, playing the role he expected while my mind memorised the dimensions of my beautiful prison.
"I have your monthly schedule here."
He handed me a rather large booklet with descriptions and tables. I'd expected a job, but this was an instructional manual - a comprehensive breakdown of how to sacrifice my days to fit his strict routine. I should have known that every prison has its blueprint.
"It has everything you're responsible for noted and explained. I expect minimal mistakes and maximum performance."
He carried himself with this absurd level of self-importance, looking exactly like a spoiled kid playing boss of his own backyard. When he arched a curious eyebrow at me, it completely ruined the facade, only highlighting how young and boyish his face actually was. It just made him look adorable in a petulant sort of way, and I had to suppress the urge to tease him.
"As you wish, sir," I replied, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of my mouth as I gave him exactly what his ego wanted to hear.
"Great, I'll be working on my novel in the meantime."
He pivoted toward the door, crossing the expansive bedroom in a few brisk strides. He was moments away from the corridor when I called out, forcing him to halt.
"You're an author?" I blurted, the disbelief hitting me like a physical jolt.
Everything about his refined posture and shrewd
demeanour echoed high-stakes finance, not a creative writer who spent his days lost in fiction.
"Yes, a best-selling thriller novelist," he offered with practiced modesty, but the casual title made me gasp. I'd completely failed to do my homework. I wasn't merely working for a rich man. No, I was living under the roof of a famous celebrity writer.
"Excuse my bluntness, but why would you hire one maid instead of a handful?"
"We had this discussion earlier, Miss Thomas. I value my solitude and privacy. I'd rather have one helper than many hindering the quiet atmosphere," he vindicated politely, a soft smile reaching his eyes. "It interferes with my creativity and thought process."
"Alright, I understand."
I guess he was the lone wolf type. His antisocial character made sense, as did his reserved, guarded nature. What's more peculiar is that such a mellow guy wrote thrillers for a living.
"Would that be all, Miss Thomas?" He asked a little curtly, diverting my concentration.
"Yes, thank you."
"In that case, enjoy your stay."
Isaac suavely left the room, creating a mysterious silence. I collapsed onto the extravagantly comfy mattress and flipped through the booklet. It had everything detailed, from household chores to meals, even his bathing and work schedules, which I was prohibited from disturbing.
'What the hell did I get myself into?'
-------
After packing and sorting out my belongings, I checked the printed schedule he had given me. The next item on the itinerary was to prepare spaghetti bolognaise for dinner.
I followed the instructions on a recipe attached to the booklet.
'Wow, he really is meticulous.'
The rhythmic bubbling of the meaty red sauce was the only sound cutting through the suffocating quiet of this mansion.
When I plated it up, Isaac didn't spare a glance my way. He offered a hollow, mechanical thank-you and retreated up stairs with the pasta, leaving me alone in the kitchen with nothing but the dirty dishes and a ticking clock.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips. It was only the first night, and yet I knew that this was going to be a brutally lonely year. Nevertheless, I had to swallow my pride and get accustomed to it. If he wanted to live like a ghost in his home, then I had no choice but to respect his boundaries.
-------
By the time I finished eating alone and picked up a dishcloth, the quiet of the mansion felt even harsher. I started wiping down the marble kitchen counters, but it felt totally pointless. His mansion was already in pristine condition - there was not a speck of dust, nor a smudge in sight, absolutely nothing. A cold knot of suspicion began twisting in my belly. It made zero logical sense why a man with a spotless house would hire a single maid.
I continued to wipe the counters, tracing the flawless lines of the luxury woodwork. The brief distraction vanished instantly with the loud hammering of footsteps descending the stairs.
Isaac stopped right in front of me, practically radiating heat. He was wearing a black denim jacket and ripped jeans. His hair was a perfectly chaotic mess that only amplified how impossibly attractive he was. As he closed the distance, the same intoxicating scent of cinnamon and musk from last night flooded my senses.
His appearance and attitude were vastly different from the reserved, introverted man I had signed the contract with.
"Get dressed, love. We're going out tonight." He spoke informally, lacing his words with arrogance and authority.