“Do you seriously think admiring a painting means you get to touch it? Don’t lie to me, you thief!” Mathew Rogers’s sharp gaze cut straight through Nicole Webb, as if every move she made screamed guilt. The disdain in his eyes was unmistakable as he turned toward the door. “Guards! Get her out of here—”

“No! Mr. Rogers, please!” Nicole begged. She couldn’t lose this job. Not with five sons waiting for her at home. Panic overrode reason—she lunged forward, threw her whole weight against the door, and braced it shut with her back.

“I didn’t steal anything. I’ll prove it!”

“And just how do you plan to do that?” Mathew shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her like she was a circus act.

Nicole hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the buttons of her blouse.

Too late, Mathew realized what she meant to do. His eyes went wide. “Stop that!”

But the buttons were already slipping free. Her maid’s uniform slid to the floor, leaving her standing there in nothing but her undergarments.

Mathew blinked, stunned—then his gaze went dark and hard. “You’ve got some nerve!”

His words came out sharp and cold. “First you steal, and now you try to seduce me?”

“Can you be reasonable?” Nicole was mortified, practically exposed in front of him. His accusation made her blood boil. “You accused me of theft, so I took off my clothes to prove you wrong! How does that add up to seduction? I’d rather flirt with a brick wall than try to seduce you!”

Her frustration boiled over, and the words lashed out before she could stop them.

“You really have no intention of flattering me, do you?” Mathew’s energy crackled around him. For half a second, he looked like he’d love nothing more than to toss her out the window.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that!” Nicole bit her lip and tried to cover her chest, but the motion only made her figure more noticeable.

Mathew’s eyes flicked down before he caught himself, his expression darkening. “Get out!”

Nicole seized her chance. She snatched up her clothes, yanked them on, and darted out.

On the stairs, she nearly barreled into a group of curious maids.

They stared at her in disbelief. How had Nicole walked out of that room in one piece? Hadn’t Mathew made her into a cautionary tale?

“N-Nicole, are you okay?” Leslie Hamilton, a fellow maid, noticed her disheveled state and asked hesitantly.

Slap!

Leslie staggered back, cradling her cheek.

“That’s for you!” Nicole glared at her, standing her ground.

“You—Nicole, you hit me?!” Leslie cried, tears welling up.

“So what if I did?” Nicole challenged boldly. “I can’t stand sneaky people like you!”

If she didn’t stand up for herself, these people would walk all over her.

“Sheesh, do you not know Leslie’s uncle is Mr. Romero, the butler?” another maid scoffed. “You’re done for, Nicole!”

What?

Nicole froze, her face going pale.

Was she about to lose her job after barely managing to keep it with Mathew?

Nearby, Mathew’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

It seemed she genuinely didn’t know.

Wait a minute…

Her facial skin was rough and dark, but her body was inexplicably pale and smooth...

Could it be…

Meanwhile, the other maids had fetched Lee Romero, demanding justice.

“Uncle, it’s her! Nicole hit me so hard my face is swollen! You have to fire her!”

“I’m sorry to trouble you, Mr. Romero, but I only did it because she deceived me first. They knew Mr. Rogers’s room was off-limits, but they tricked me into cleaning it!” Nicole explained.

Lee’s face darkened. He glanced at Leslie, who avoided his gaze guiltily.

“No, it wasn’t like that. Nicole was trying to seduce Mr. Rogers by going there—it had nothing to do with me…”

“Oh? Should we check the security cameras?” Nicole suggested coolly.

“Uncle, I don’t care! She hit me, so she has to be fired!” Leslie insisted.

“I’d like to see anyone try to fire her!” A cold voice cut in.

Nicole froze. She turned to see Mathew striding over, radiating an authority that made everyone flinch.

Lee almost buckled, lowering his head in fear. “Mr. Rogers! Without your orders, I wouldn’t dare fire anyone!”

He wasn’t a fool. He knew Nicole had been arranged by both Mathew and Brynlee. He’d hoped the whole mess would quietly fade away.

But he hadn’t expected Mathew to step in.

Nicole was stunned as Mathew approached her, unsure why he’d bother with something so trivial.

“Why are you staring? Bring some towels to the pool.” Mathew ordered, walking past her without acknowledging anyone else.

“Yes…” Nicole blinked and hurried after him.

From a distance, Leslie fumed silently.

Was this a joke?

Mathew had taken the side of that plain-looking woman!

And now he wanted Nicole to assist him while he swam!

This was an honor the maids usually competed for—a rare chance to see Mathew’s stunning physique in action, and few were ever granted the opportunity.

Yet somehow, this unassuming woman had managed it effortlessly!

“Uncle! How did this happen? Why didn’t Mathew fire her but instead reward her?” Leslie demanded.

“Quiet, you fool! Who told you to play such petty tricks?” Lee scolded her.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Enough! Don’t call me uncle at work!” Lee didn’t want to be dragged down by his niece’s recklessness. “Now that the supervisor position is open, you’ve been here the longest. If you work diligently, the role is yours. Don’t cause unnecessary trouble!”

“Understood. Thank you, Mr. Romero.” Leslie agreed sweetly, though her heart was full of resentment.

A housekeeping supervisor? She aimed higher.

She thought her uncle was too timid—stuck in his butler position for years without a raise. Luckily, she had already secured another backer.

Leslie narrowed her eyes maliciously and stepped into a corner to text someone:

“Mathew is obsessed with a maid named Nicole Webb, using dirty tricks to get close to him...”

*

At the pool, Mathew emerged in nothing but fitted swim trunks, his chiseled physique catching Nicole’s attention and nearly making her drop the basin she was holding.

“Why did you bring that stuff?” Mathew asked skeptically before diving gracefully into the water and cutting through it effortlessly.

Nicole wiped the water from her face. “Didn’t you ask me to bring towels to the pool? I thought you might want a shower afterward, so I brought towels, a basin, and soap.”

In reality, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Nicole Webb was worried that Mathew Rogers—a man who came off as cold and calculating—might suddenly do something unpredictable. Just in case, she’d grabbed the metal tray as a makeshift shield.

Mathew surfaced at the edge of the pool and eyed the basin in Nicole’s hands.

“You brought an entire cleaning kit?”

“You asked for towels. I like to be prepared.”

She stepped back to make room for him, but her heel caught the soap she'd set down. Her feet flew out from under her.

“Nicole—!”

She hit the water hard. Panic seized her before she could catch the edge. She couldn't swim, and her leg cramped as she tried to kick upward.

Mathew was already moving. He caught her under the arms and hauled her to the steps, supporting her until she could breathe.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice stripped of its usual arrogance. “Are you hurt?”

Nicole coughed, clinging to the rail. “I told you I don't belong in a pool.”

“I didn't know you couldn't swim.”

“You never asked.”

He had no answer for that.

Then Nicole felt something shift on her head.

“Oh no. My wig!”

Her dark hair spilled free across her shoulders. Mathew stared, startled by how completely the woman before him differed from the one he'd hired.

Mathew fished the orange, frizzy wig out of the water, his eyes sharp on her. “Why the wig?” “I—I...” Nicole’s heart raced as panic set in. Thank God her waterproof makeup had held; her real face was still hidden. “It’s just a personal choice!”

“Leave it to suspicious people to have the most ridiculous excuses.” “What’s your problem? Can’t a person have hobbies?” Nicole shot back, glaring at him.

Mathew frowned, studying her. Without the wig, she was still far from attractive. Her complexion hadn’t changed—still dark, every layer of concealing makeup still in place. Had he been wrong? He’d initially suspected Nicole was disguising herself for some ulterior motive. But apparently— “Boring.” Mathew tossed the wig aside and swam back toward the edge. As he passed her, Nicole tried to climb out—and slipped on the soap.

Nicole scrambled onto the pool steps, still shaken. Mathew held out a towel. She took it without thanking him.

“Are you always this suspicious of people?” she asked.

“Only when they arrive with a disguise and refuse to explain it.”

“Maybe I have a reason.”

“Then tell me.”

She met his gaze. “Earn my trust first.”

For once, Mathew had no cutting reply. He watched her wrap the towel around her shoulders and turn away, unsettled by the fact that he wanted to know more.

Meanwhile, at the doorway, a well-dressed woman stood frozen in shock. Her purse hit the floor with a thud. “Mr. Rogers? What’s going on?” Arlette Hill’s eyes filled with indignant tears.

She’d known Mathew for three years. Their families were considered a perfect match—his, old money and prestige; hers, famous for antique restoration. She’d been led to believe she might one day become Mrs. Rogers, and Mathew’s kindness had only fed that hope. This scene shattered every assumption she’d had.

Caught in the awkward position, Nicole quickly shoved Mathew off and stood off to the side. “What brings you here?” Mathew asked, giving Arlette a detached glance. “Mr. Rogers, you haven’t explained who she is. How could you be involved with a maid?” “It’s not what you—” Nicole started. But Mathew raised a hand, silencing her. He looked at Arlette with disinterest. “What if I am? Do I owe you an explanation for my actions?”