27 The Young Master's Fury

27 The Young Master's Fury
27
The Young Master's Fury

When Ryan first opened his eyes and saw Tessy, he thought it was another dream. He sighed, frustration nipping at him. Tessy haunted him day and night, even in sleep. Strange, really, the power she still had over him, even after she had shattered him with her words and left when he needed her most.

He had drowned himself in drinking, clubbing, and fleeting pleasures. Even Ronda, annoying as she was, became a distraction he clung to, because at least she was there.

But Tessy? Tessy never left him alone. She tormented him in visions, in memories, in the way he spiraled every time he thought of her. Margaret had tried to pull him out of it, and though he cut back, the habits never fully left. The girls, the liquor, the reckless nights, they only grew worse. At least, to keep Margaret’s scolding at bay, he stopped bringing women into the mansion.

Groaning, he rolled onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. “Get out of my head,” he muttered. His voice was rough, thick with sleep.

He hated her for hurting him. Hated her for still being inside his head. He had only returned home late last night and wanted nothing more than sleep.

“Young master, you have to wake up,” Tessy urged softly.

Something in her voice pierced through him. He froze.

That voice. He could never forget it. Not even if he lost his memory.

Tessy.

With a sharp jolt, his eyes snapped fully open.

He stared at her, disbelief and confusion clouding his gaze. No… it couldn’t be. Was this still part of a dream? A trick of his imagination?

“You…” His voice cracked, raw. His eyes raked over her, widening as recognition settled. She was Tessy, more beautiful than he remembered. Her dark hair framed her face delicately, her wide eyes locked on his. And those lips… God, those lips. His gaze slipped lower, the maid uniform hugged her figure too well, accentuating every curve.

Heat surged through him. His dick hardened before his mind caught up, and shame twisted into anger. His eyes darkened instantly.

“You’re real?” he muttered, as if testing himself. But in seconds, the softness vanished. Fury replaced it.

His voice roared, deep and cutting.
“What the hell are you doing here?”

Tessy stumbled back, fear slamming through her chest at the venom in his tone.

Ryan swung his legs off the bed, flinging the covers aside. His bare chest caught the dim light, muscles tensing as he stood. His trousers hung low on his waist, threatening to slip further.

Tessy’s throat went dry. No. She forced herself to look anywhere but at him.

“What are you doing here?” Ryan repeated, closing some of the distance between them.

“I… I was told to wake you up. You have a meeting today, you shouldn’t be late,” Tessy stammered, her fingers twisting nervously.

Silence stretched, heavy and sharp. She wondered why he was not talking. Tessy glanced at him, only to find his eyes burning into her, confusion, amazement, hurt, and anger all swirling together.

Her breath caught. Her chest squeezed painfully as she stared back at him.

Ryan’s expression hardened into a frown. He stepped forward.

Tessy panicked, stepping back.

He scoffed at her reaction, halting. His jaw clenched.
“Why are you in a maid uniform?” His teeth ground together. “What the hell are you playing at?”

Tessy blinked, stunned. Memories slammed into her, his cruel texts, his betrayal. Did he really think she was here to… what? Use him? Milk him?

Her heart burned.

She braced herself, meeting his gaze head-on.
“I’m here to work,” she snapped. “If you have a problem with it, face Margaret. Don’t you dare act like I came here to leech off you. I’m here for my future. And right now, I’m doing my job, young master.”

The last words dripped venom, the title spat like it burned her tongue.

Ryan faltered, dazed by her tone. For a moment, hurt flickered in his eyes. Then his smirk slid back into place, masking it.
“As if you never planned to do that,” he sneered.

Tessy’s face darkened. So that’s what he thought of her all this time.

She turned without another word and stormed out of the room, down the hallway, straight back to the kitchen.

“Have you woken him up?” Lilly asked.

“Yes, I did,” Tessy replied, keeping her eyes on the work in front of her. Or at least pretending to. Ryan’s words still echoed in her chest, sharp and cutting. Milk off him? How dare he…

“Mm… yes,” Lilly sighed, “young master can be a lot when you try to wake him. He sleeps like a log.”

Tessy nearly laughed. That, at least, was true.
Her mind betrayed her, slipping back to summers at Grams’ house, how Ryan hated being woken up. He would roll over again and again until she practically dragged him out of bed. He’d stomp into the bathroom, grumpy as a child, only to shrug it off later with that careless grin.

A chuckle slipped out before she could stop it.

“Why are you smiling?” Lilly asked, watching her in amazement.

Tessy froze. What was she doing? She quickly shook her head, brushing the memory aside.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that since you came,” Lilly said warmly. “Your smile is beautiful, you know.”

Heat rushed to Tessy’s cheeks. She ducked her head, pretending to focus on the plates. Ryan had told her that once too… but damn him.

The dining table was soon set. Silverware gleamed, dishes steamed, and everything was in its place.

Ryan appeared moments later, dressed in a sharp suit, his steps measured and steady. His gaze swept the room instantly, searching.

For her.

But Tessy was nowhere in sight. A crease formed on his brow. Was it all a dream? Had he imagined the whole encounter upstairs?

He took his seat at the head of the table, still scanning the room.

Then she walked in.

Tessy, carrying a bowl, heading straight toward him.

Ryan’s heart skipped. His jaw clenched, his face hardening into a frown. Margaret. This has to be her doing.

Tessy stopped at his side, serving him silently. Her sleeve brushed against his arm, and sparks shot through his skin, the familiar tingle he hated himself for remembering.

She carried on as if nothing happened. Calm. Unaffected. Acting as though they were strangers.

Meanwhile, his chest felt like it was splitting open.

Ryan’s hand curled into a fist under the table. Pathetic. Stop being weak. She doesn’t care anymore. Not about you.

Look at her, unaffected while he is there spiralling.

Margaret walked into the dining room just as he took his first bite.

“You’re awake. Finally.”

Ryan hummed in response, not sparing her a glance. His jaw ticked. Yes. It had to be her. And he is angry at her about that.

Margaret’s face lit up when she spotted Tessy.
“Oh, Tessy, you’re here! How are you doing? Come with me, we have something to discuss.”

Ryan’s head snapped up at that. His fork paused midair.

He watched sharply as Margaret took Tessy by the arm and led her toward the private foyer.

His frown deepened, his gut twisting with certainty.

This was Margaret’s hand. All of it.