Mated to the Mad Lord

Not in the mood to scrub the ceiling, Violet headed out, her heart racing as she rehearsed the excuse she'd offer Cain. "I went looking for you! I'm your assistant—I should always be by your side!" she mumbled to herself, repeating it like a mantra. Her steps faltered as she made her way to her tiny room in the servants' quarters on the ground floor, where she and a few others who worked in the main mansion were housed.

Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten in hours, but the itch of sweat and grime on her skin overpowered her hunger. Violet grimaced at the thought of the layer of dirt clinging to her after the day's work. She felt like she'd rip her skin off if she didn't bathe immediately. Quickening her pace, she hurried to her room, desperate to clean up and change before returning to her duties.

The room was as small as they came—a narrow bed tucked against one wall, a small wardrobe for her limited belongings, and a single chair that looked ready to collapse. Privacy was minimal; the bathroom was shared with the occupant of the adjacent room. Violet slipped inside and bolted the door leading to her side.

She was just about to strip down when a nagging thought made her pause. Turning toward the adjoining door to her neighbor's side of the bathroom, she frowned. She hesitated before crossing the room and testing the lock. Her stomach sank when she saw it—the lock was busted, leaving the door precariously ajar.

"Are you kidding me?" she muttered, glaring at the gap. How could the occupant of the next room live with such negligence? Worse, how could they not report it? Violet pushed the door closed, but it refused to stay shut, creaking open again as if mocking her.

Her irritation bubbled over as she pushed the door wide open, stepping into her neighbor's identical room. It was empty, thankfully, confirming the occupant wasn't around. Still muttering curses under her breath, she returned to her side and locked the door from her end as securely as she could manage.

Shedding her dirty clothes and the enchanted band from around her neck, Violet untied the wrap binding her chest. A deep breath escaped her lips, a small sigh of relief as the tight constriction released. She savored the moment, relishing the freedom and the sensation of air on her skin.

The warm water from the shower hit her like a blessing, washing away the grime and tension that clung to her body. Soap and water slid over her skin, the suds soothing against her aching muscles. Violet closed her eyes, the simple act of bathing feeling almost luxurious after such an exhausting day. She even indulged in washing her hair, the silky strands slicked back as the water ran through them.

But Violet was nothing if not practical. As much as she longed to linger, she hurried through the process. There was no time to indulge, not when Cain would undoubtedly demand her presence soon. She dried herself quickly, rubbing at her damp hair with a towel until it stopped dripping.

She slipped the enchanted band back around her neck and had just started to pull on her uniform pants when a sound froze her in place—the unmistakable creak of a door being pushed open.

Her heart stopped for a moment before resuming at a frantic pace. The realization hit her like a blow. It wasn't her door—it was the one leading into the bathroom from the other side. Violet's fingers fumbled as she yanked the pants up over her knees, panic setting in.

Before she could finish dressing, the adjoining door swung wide open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. His eyes roamed over her, slow and deliberate, his gaze crawling over her like an unwelcome touch.

Violet's heart pounded in her chest as she clutched her shirt to cover herself. The pants she'd been trying to fasten were still undone, the fabric bunched awkwardly around her waist. The man's expression oozed confidence, as if he believed the situation was entirely in his control.

"You look good," he drawled, his voice smooth but laced with something that made her stomach churn. "That pale skin, those sharp eyes…" He whistled low, his admiration blatant as his gaze raked over her.

Violet stared, horrified. The man was objectively handsome—dark hair, piercing blue eyes—but his air of entitlement and sleaziness ruined any appeal he might have had. Moreover, she had seen much better!

"Get out!" she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended as she tightened her grip on the shirt covering her chest. Her body radiated tension, every muscle screaming at her to do something, anything, to regain control of the situation.

He didn't move. Instead, his smirk widened, and he took a deliberate step forward.

"I know you're not dressed," he said nonchalantly. "But we're both men here, right? Nothing to be embarrassed about."

The words hit her like a slap. Violet's lips parted in disbelief, but she couldn't find the words to respond. He thought she was a man and yet he still dared to say such words to her!

His gaze turned bolder, his tone dripping with mockery. "But let me warn you," he continued, his voice lowering suggestively. "If you turn around and flash that ass, I'll take it as an invitation."

Violet's breath caught in her throat. The pounding in her head intensified, but it wasn't fear—it was pure, unfiltered rage.

"Are—are you crazy?" she managed to stammer, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and fury.

The man chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Oh, don't give me that look," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "We're stuck in this place six days a week, only allowed to go home on Sundays. A man has needs, you know."

He punctuated the statement with a suggestive gesture, his hand sliding to his crotch as he cupped himself shamelessly. "And trust me," he added with a wink, "I'm big enough to satisfy that slutty body of yours."

The words made her stomach turn. Violet's mind raced, grasping for a response, but the sheer audacity of his statement left her momentarily speechless. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out.

The fear of discovery mingled with indignation, swirling into a storm of emotions that left her frozen. All she could do was stare, her hands gripping the shirt tighter as she tried to process the sheer absurdity of the situation.