The following morning, the glass house was bathed in a deceptive, pearlescent glow. Georgia had left before dawn, her departure marked only by the soft chime of the elevator and the lingering, clinical scent of her expensive perfume.
In the staff quarters, Josette Hilton looked at herself in the mirror. Today was not about being the invisible shadow. Today was about becoming a distraction.
She pulled on the black-and-white housekeeper's uniform Mrs. Higgins had left behind. It was a modest garment, designed for utility, but Josette had spent the night with a needle and thread. She had taken in the waist until the fabric hugged her curves. She had hemmed the skirt, shortening it until the hemline flirted dangerously with the tops of her thighs.
Finally, she reached for the buttons at her throat. One. Two. Three.
She pulled the lapels apart, exposing the pale, smooth expanse of her upper breasts. She leaned forward, checking the angle. It was perfect, the image of a girl who had carelessly forgotten to finish dressing in her haste to serve. She shook her hair loose from its severe bun, letting the mousy brown waves frame her face in a way that looked soft, vulnerable, and entirely too accessible.
Noah was already at his desk when the scent of fresh espresso began to snake through the apartment. It was a rich, dark aroma, vastly different from the burnt, acidic sludge he usually made for himself.
He didn't look up when he heard the soft click-clack of heels on the marble, but his typing slowed. The rhythmic sound was deliberate, a countdown.
"Your espresso, Mr. Noah," Lizzy's voice purred behind him.
Noah swiveled his chair around, a sharp remark about the internet speed ready on his tongue. The words died instantly.
He didn't look at the tray first. His eyes locked onto Lizzy's legs, long, pale, and fully exposed by the scandalously short hem of her uniform. His gaze traveled upward, past the cinched waist that emphasized the sway of her hips, to the open collar of her dress.
The three missing buttons revealed enough to make his throat go dry.
"I... I thought you'd want it at your desk today," she said, her voice dropping an octave. She leaned forward to place the small ceramic cup on the edge of his workstation.
The movement was calculated. As she leaned, the gap in her uniform widened, offering him a direct, unhindered view. She stayed there a second too long, her breath ghosting over his shoulder.
Noah didn't move. He didn't breathe. He stared lustfully, his eyes dark with a sudden, predatory hunger that had nothing to do with caffeine.
"Lizzy," he rasped, his voice cracking. "Your... your uniform."
"Oh!" She gasped, her hand flying to her chest in a mock gesture of surprise that only served to draw more attention to the skin she was showing. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Noah. I was in such a rush to get this to you before it got cold. I must have been careless."
She didn't fix the buttons. Instead, she let her fingers linger on the fabric, her eyes meeting his with a wide, innocent heat.
"Does it bother you?" she whispered.
Noah swallowed hard. "No. It doesn't bother me. It's just... a lot of skin for a Tuesday morning."
"Georgia says I should stay covered," Lizzy said, her tone shifting to one of quiet, shared confidence. She moved around the desk, standing close enough that the scent of her soap, something floral and cheap, unlike Georgia's cold musk, overpowered the electronics. "She says this house is a place of business. She doesn't like distractions."
Noah let out a short, jagged laugh. "Georgia doesn't like anything she can't control. She treats this place like a tomb. I'm thirty-four years old, and I feel like I'm living with a headmistress."
"It's a shame," Lizzy murmured. She reached out, her fingers grazing the back of his hand as she adjusted the spoon on his saucer. "A man like you... you shouldn't be hidden away in the dark. You have so much fire in you. I can feel it."
Noah's hand spasmed. He looked at her, really looked at her, seeing not the housekeeper, but the girl who had called him a genius over a steak dinner. He saw a girl who was offering him the one thing Georgia never could, total, uncritical adoration.
"She's always so cold," Noah said, the words spilling out like a confession. "Even when she's here, she's not here. It's like sleeping next to a statue. I haven't felt... I haven't felt warm in a long time, Lizzy."
He looked down at his lap, a flash of genuine shame crossing his handsome face. He was a parasite, yes, but he was a lonely one. He reached out, his fingers trembling, and caught the hem of her short skirt. He didn't pull it, he just held the fabric, anchored to her presence.
"Lizzy," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "I know it's wrong. I know who I am in this house. But I'm so tired of the glass."
He looked up at her, his face flushed with a desperate need. "Could you... could you just stay for a minute?"
Josette felt a surge of pure, icy triumph. It was almost too easy. Noah was practically begging to be destroyed.
She didn't pull away. Instead, she stepped into the space between his knees, her thighs brushing against his expensive trousers. She reached down and cupped his face with her hands, her thumbs tracing the line of his jaw.
"You don't have to ask for warmth from me, Noah," she whispered, dropping the formal title."
She leaned down, her open collar brushing against his forehead. "Georgia doesn't deserve you. She doesn't know what she has. She thinks she can buy your soul with server farms and espresso pods, but she leaves your heart to starve."
Noah let out a ragged breath, his eyes closing as he leaned his head against her chest. He was a man drowning, and he had just grabbed onto a shark, thinking it was a life raft.
"Stay. Just for a while. She won't be back for hours." he muttered, his hands moving up to her waist, gripping the cinched fabric of the uniform.
Josette looked over the top of his head, her eyes fixing on the empty hallway where Georgia usually stood. She imagined Georgia's face, the shock, the betrayal, the crumbling of the perfect life.
She ran her fingers through his hair, her gaze clinical and cold even as she held him.
She was the auditor, and the first payment on Georgia's debt had just been collected.
In the silence of the penthouse, the only sound was the low hum of the monitors and the frantic, uneven thud of Noah's heart. The glass house was still standing, but the heat of the betrayal was already starting to melt the ice.