Chapter 11 Chapter 11: Not All Hands Are Helping Ones
I turned ninety degrees, and came face to face with Nicolas Veyra. Elara’s cousin. Of course it would be him. He leaned casually against the wall like he’d been standing there all along, and his one hand still resting on the storage closet door he’d just helped close. He was dressed too well for someone wandering the service halls— in beige tailored shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show off, that effortless, practiced look of a man who knew exactly what effect he had on people nd his mouth curved into a slow smile the moment our eyes met, the kind that wasn’t friendly so much as entertained.
“Well,” he said lightly, eyes flicking over me in a way that made my skin prickle, “that looked like a serious battle.” His gaze dropped briefly to the vacuum, then returned to my face, amused. Nicolas always looked amused. Like nothing in this house could ever really touch him. He had Elara’s sharp features softened by charm, the kind that hid something unpleasant underneath. I’d seen him flirt with staff before, watched him turn kindness into discomfort and laughter into leverage. He never crossed lines openly—he liked to dance right on top of them. “I was expecting a broom closet. Not a damsel in distress.”
“I had it under control,” I said, straightening instinctively, even though my hands were still trembling.
“Mm,” he hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you did. But where’s the fun in struggling alone?”
I shifted my weight, uncomfortable under his gaze. “Thank you for the help. I should go.”
He didn’t move aside. Instead, he leaned closer, lowering his voice like we were sharing a secret. “You know, most people don’t look that serious while cleaning. Makes me wonder what you’re really thinking about.” His eyes flicked to my face, searching. “Something dangerous, I hope.”
“That’s none of your business,” I replied, sharper than I meant to.
Nicolas grinned wider. “Ah. There it is. Fire.” He stepped back just enough to let me breathe. “Relax, Sera. I’m only admiring the view. You make these halls look less… miserable.”
“I’m working,” I said, trying to step around him.
“And I’m appreciating hard work,” he shot back smoothly. “Underrated quality. Especially in this house.” His gaze dropped briefly, then lifted again, unapologetic. “Elara keeps all the pretty things locked away. Nice to see one that moves.”
I shifted my weight, “You shouldn’t be back here,” I said quietly. “This area is for staff.”
Nicolas chuckled, like he found my words charming rather than corrective. “Relax. I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned in just a fraction, “Besides, rules in this house bend all the time. You just have to know how to push them.”
I frowned. “I really need to get back to work.”
“And here I thought this was work,” he replied lightly. “You, wrestling machines in dark corridors… very heroic.” He tilted his head, studying my face like he was memorizing it. “You’re Sera, right? Elara’s favorite miracle worker.”
“I’m not—” I stopped myself, biting back the instinct to deny it. “I’m just doing my job.”
He smiled wider. “Funny. You do it like it costs you something.”
“If you’re done, I should go.”
“Already?” He said,“And here I was enjoying the company.” His gaze swept over me again, unapologetic this time. “You know, most people look right through the staff. I don’t. I like noticing things others ignore.”
“That’s not a compliment,” I replied, sharper than I intended.
He laughed softly. “Depends who’s giving it.”
I stepped to the side, trying to pass him, but he moved just enough to slow me, not blocking—never openly blocking—but close enough to make his presence impossible to ignore. “Careful,” he said, lowering his voice again. “You look like someone who carries the weight of this house on her shoulders. That can’t be comfortable.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I muttered.
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” he said smoothly. “I just choose not to let it show.”
I finally managed to move past him, my shoulder brushing his arm for the briefest second. He didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice following me. “You should smile more, Sera. It would drive certain people absolutely mad.”
I stopped and turned back despite myself. “Is that supposed to be advice?”
He grinned, utterly unapologetic. “Flirting,” he corrected. “Though I can do advice too, if you prefer.”
“I don’t,” I said firmly.
“Pity,” he replied, unfazed. “I’m very good at both.” He stepped back at last, giving me a mock bow. “I’ll see you around. Something tells me this won’t be our last little hallway moment.”
I barely made it ten steps away before my pulse started to slow, Nicolas’s presence still clinging to me like a scent I couldn’t shake off. I kept my head down and my pace steady as I turned toward the staff corridor, telling myself not to look back. Men like him thrived on attention, on knowing they’d unsettled you. I refused to give him that satisfaction, even if my thoughts were still tangled from the encounter. All I wanted was the familiarity of the staff area, the noise, the rules—places where people like Nicolas didn’t linger.
I was just heading back toward the staff wing when Madame Carol Veyra walked in through the front doors, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She paused when she saw me, her gaze settling on my face with a look that was polite but distant, the kind she reserved for staff when she needed something done quickly. Carol always carried herself differently from the others—lighter, almost pleasant on the surface—but there was calculation behind every smile. As Elara’s stepmother, she knew exactly how to move through this house without ever seeming out of place.
“Sera,” she called, lifting one perfectly manicured hand. “A moment, please.”
“Yes, Madam Carol,” I replied, stopping at once.
She gestured toward the front drive. “Nielle is outside with the car. There are several shopping bags in the trunk—gifts.” Her lips curved faintly. “They’re for the Draven family. I want them taken upstairs to my room.” Her tone softened just enough to sound kind. “Help Nielle bring them in, will you? I don’t want them handled carelessly.”
“Of course,” I said, relief flickering through me at the mention of Nielle. Working with her was always easier. “I’ll help her right away.”
Carol nodded approvingly. “Good. Some of the boxes are fragile, and everything needs to stay exactly as it is. Ribbons, tags—don’t disturb anything.” She adjusted the strap of her handbag, already turning away. “Once they’re in my room, you can leave them near the sitting area. I’ll take care of the rest.”