THE MAID

Be my guard

Chapter 8

Girls. A bunch of disgusting perverts. How the hell did this loser keep track of my life? And how did she even know about Lucy?

Julian exhaled sharply, kicking off his shoes with a tired grunt. "Damn, these shoes hurt." He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing.

“Tisha… ahh, Tsh…” he muttered, a strange smirk playing on his lips—one that disappeared the moment his phone rang.

His jaw clenched as he picked up. “Hello, Mum.”

“How are you, dear? I assume that worm at the office has been giving you a hard time again?” his mother’s voice came through, laced with concern.

Julian remained silent.

“We need to see you this weekend. There’s an important matter we must discuss,” she continued slowly.

“Dad already told me,” he mumbled, rubbing his temple.

“Yes, I know. But I need to tell you myself. I want you to understand just how serious this is.”

Julian shook his head, his patience wearing thin.

“I’ve heard you, Mum. I’m driving. I’ll call—”

“You can use your earpods, Julian. Stop avoiding our calls.”

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I just hope this is worth my time.” His tone was sharp, his annoyance clear as he ended the call.

By the time he reached home, he wasn’t expecting what he saw.

Margret stood in the hallway, looking... different. More refined. Dazzling.

Julian’s breath hitched slightly before he caught himself. “H—ey,” he whispered, momentarily stunned.

“Good afternoon, Boss. Should I prepare your food?” Her voice was soft, almost careful.

His gaze darkened. “You mean you haven’t already? Didn’t Alex notify you I was on my way?” His tone turned sharp, cutting.

“I’m sorry, Boss. I didn’t want it to get cold before you returned.”

“Always an excuse,” he scoffed, brushing past her. “Test my patience again, and you won’t like the outcome.”

The warning lingered in the air as he disappeared into his room.

Margret ’s hands trembled as she rushed to prepare the meal. Her nerves got the best of her, and in her haste, a glass cup slipped from her fingers, shattering into shards. A sharp pain sliced through her palm.

She sucked in a breath, staring at the thin line of blood trailing down her skin.

Oh no. How do I explain this? Will my salary be deducted?

Despite the pain, she hurried to Julian’s room. She hesitated before knocking. “Hello, Boss.”

“Come in,” he mumbled.

“I—I just wanted to let you know that your food is ready,” she whispered.

Julian’s gaze flickered to the door, his expression hardening. “I said, come in.”

She swallowed, stepping inside cautiously.

His stare was unnerving. “So, what was that?” His voice was low, dangerous.

Margret blinked. “I... I knocked,” she stammered, confused.

Julian tilted his head. “You knocked. And?”

She fidgeted. “I—I’m sorry, Boss.”

“It’s not about saying sorry. It’s about knowing your mistake and correcting it.” His voice dropped to a whisper, sending chills down her spine. “Don’t ever speak to me from outside my room again. I’m not a monster, Margret .”

Shame burned her cheeks as she lowered her gaze.

“Now go. Bring my food here.”

She returned with the tray moments later.

Julian’s lips curled into a smirk. “Come feed me.”

Margret nearly choked on air, coughing uncontrollably.

“Relax,” he chuckled darkly. “You don’t stand a chance to do that. I was only messing with you.”

She exhaled in relief, but then—

“In the absence of that, I want you to stand there and watch me eat. And this isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

Her stomach twisted with frustration, but she obeyed.

Silence stretched between them before Julian suddenly spoke again.

“You must be quite bold,” he murmured, his voice like a blade. “To not only eat my food but to use my plate as well.”

Her eyes widened.

“I—I was—”

“Shhh,” he cut her off, pressing a finger to his lips. “You speak when I say you can.”

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

“Do you think I wouldn’t know? There are CCTVs everywhere in this house.”

He tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze steady, unreadable.

Then, after a long pause—

“Sit.”

Her breath hitched as he moved toward her.

“What are you—” She flinched as he knelt before her, eyes locked onto hers.

“Your hands,” he demanded.

Her heartbeat slowed, then quickened again. Hesitantly, she stretched out her injured hand.

His eyes flickered to the wound.

“I got cut by the glass,” she rushed to explain.

Julian’s gaze lifted, sharp and unreadable. “Did I say you could speak?”

She shut her mouth instantly.

Without another word, he pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around her hand, tying it firmly.

“You need to see a doctor,” he muttered. “This wound doesn’t look good.”

A knock at the door interrupted them.

“Sir, the—”

“Call the family doctor,” Julian ordered before Alex could finish. “She’s injured.”

Alex’s brows furrowed, his gaze flickering between the two of them. His shock was evident.

“Uh… Okay, Boss.” He dialed the doctor’s number, his eyes still lingering on Margret .

“He’s on his way, Sir,” Alex confirmed.

Julian nodded. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, right.” Alex snapped back to reality. “There’s a contract with De Ville that needs your signature.” He placed the document on the table, his movements slow, hesitant.

“Come back in thirty minutes.”

Alex hesitated. His eyes darted to Margret again.

Julian’s jaw tightened. “Anything else?”

“No, Sir.” Alex cleared his throat. “I—I’ll take my leave. Uh… sorry about the cut, Margret .”

Minutes later, the doctor arrived, a boyish grin on his face.

“Sorry for the delay, traffic was insane.”

Julian waved off the excuse. “She got a cut. Fix it.”

The doctor turned to Margret , his expression shifting into something else entirely.

She must be his girlfriend, he thought. Such a beauty. But why is she wearing a maid’s uniform?

She smells like strawberries. A good cook, maybe?

Unless… she isn’t his girlfriend?

A sly smirk formed in his mind. If she wasn’t taken, he’d make her his.

Margret winced as the doctor pressed on her wound. “Aww! Easy!”

“Sorry,” the doctor whispered, his touch lingering.

Julian’s jaw ticked.

His gaze darkened. “Are you done?”

The doctor blinked. “Uh—yes. All done.”

Still, he let his fingers graze the bandage, his eyes meeting Margret ’s with a lingering stare.

Julian cleared his throat. Loudly.

The doctor chuckled, finally stepping back. “I’ll check on you tomorrow,” he told Margret , squeezing her hand before heading out.

The moment he left, Margret turned to Julian. “Thank you.”

His expression was unreadable. “It’s fine.” A pause. Then, quieter, “Your hair looks good.”

Heat crept up her face as she smiled. “Thank you, Sir.”

She stood, ready to leave.

“Call Alex on your way out,” Julian murmured. “And take the tray.”

Margret obeyed, while Julian stretched back onto his bed, letting his shirt ride up just enough to expose the sharp lines of his six-pack.

And when the door clicked shut, a smirk tugged at his lips.