4

Lucas, for his part, remained in the background, observing everything from afar with this piercing gaze that made her uncomfortable. He hadn't said anything, hadn't allowed himself to show the slightest reaction, but Isabella felt his silent judgment. It was as if he saw right through her, sensing her weaknesses, her hidden desires. This distance he maintained disturbed her more than she wanted to admit. Unlike Nicolas or Matthieu, Lucas never tried to charm her, to please her. He always remained reserved, refusing to be drawn into the power games that reigned in the villa.

That day, as they passed each other in the hallway, Isabella stopped in front of Lucas, searching for his gaze. “Lucas,” she said in a soft, but firm voice, “how are you finding your work here so far? »

Lucas looked at her, his green eyes searching her face as if trying to understand what was behind that question. “It’s a…fascinating place, Madam,” he finally replied, his tone neutral, but full of implication.

" Fascinating ? » Isabella repeated, arching an eyebrow. “In what way exactly? »

“There’s an… intensity here,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Something beyond just serving. It's difficult to explain. »

Isabella stared at him, trying to read beyond his words. "You're a man of few words, Lucas," she remarked, smirking.

“I prefer to observe, Madam,” he replied simply.

“And what do you observe? » she insisted, curious to see how far he was willing to go.

Go.

He hesitated for a moment, then replied with disconcerting frankness: “I notice that everyone here is wearing a mask. And sometimes those masks fall, even if just for a moment. »

Isabella felt a wave of coldness pass through her. He knew. He saw more than he showed. She smiled, but it was a smile without warmth. “Maybe some masks are there to protect, Lucas. You would do well to remember this. »

“I have no doubt, Madam,” he replied with a slight tilt of his head, before walking away.

Isabella watched him leave, feeling a strange feeling of worry settling inside her. Lucas Moreau was a mysterious man, and she didn't yet know if he was an ally or a danger. But one thing was certain: he was more than just a butler, and she was going to have to be careful around him.

However, a part of her was also fascinated, drawn to this mystery he represented. She loved a challenge, and Lucas was a big one. She wondered how far this game could go, and if she would be able to maintain control against a man who seemed to see right through her. But for now, she had other concerns, and she knew the time would come when she would have to confront Lucas and find out what he was really hiding.

The day continued, but Isabella couldn't help but think back to her conversation with Lucas. Something in his eyes, in his way of speaking, gave him the impression that he saw further, that he perceived the flaws that she tried to hide. She knew she had to be careful, but at the same time, a part of her was attracted by this mystery, by the possibility of discovering what was hidden behind this enigmatic man.

Isabella returned to her room at the end of the day, but the calm she usually found there was disturbed by her thoughts. She sat on the edge of her bed, thinking about everything that had happened over the past few days, about her relationships with the butlers, about Lucas, and what that meant to her. She knew that her power over them was fragile, that everything could change in an instant, and this uncertainty, this possibility of losing control, disturbed her deeply.

But Isabella was not the type to let her doubts get her down. She knew that whatever path this situation took, she would find a way to stay in control, to remain in control of her own destiny. And if it meant facing Lucas, or any other obstacle, she would do it without hesitation.

She stood up, determined, and went to get her phone. She needed to take her mind off things, to remind everyone, including herself, who was the mistress of this villa. Isabella dialed a number, ready to start a new game, a game where she set the rules.

Night had fallen on Villa Davenport, this vast residence lost on a private island, surrounded by the sea, far from the gaze of the outside world. The atmosphere there was both calming and mysterious, as if time unfolded differently there. The moon, full and bright, cast a silvery light on the walls of the villa, creating dancing shadows that seemed to come to life under Isabella's gaze. Sitting in her large velvet armchair, she sipped a glass of red wine, her thoughts fixed on the new butler: Lucas Moreau.

Since his arrival, Lucas had shown exemplary discretion, much more than the other butlers who had served her for a long time. He was not like Damien, with his silent devotion, nor like Nicolas or Matthieu, always quick to satisfy his slightest desires with an almost obsequious reverence. No, Lucas was different. He carried out his tasks with a cool efficiency, a distance that, instead of irritating her, intrigued her deeply. Isabella was not used to being resisted, and even less used to being ignored.

She placed her glass on the coffee table, thoughtful. An idea formed in her mind, an idea that she knew was dangerous but irresistible. She needed to know who Lucas really was, and more importantly, why he seemed so indifferent to her charm. Was it just a facade, or was he hiding something deeper? This mystery fascinated her, and she was determined to pierce this veil of mystery.

She stood up and walked over to the bedroom phone, her gaze fixed on the dial as if she was already anticipating the pleasure of what was to come. With a decisive gesture, she dialed Lucas’ number. The phone rang several times before he answered, his calm voice echoing on the other end.

“Yes, ma’am? »

His voice was calm, devoid of any emotion. Isabella smiled to herself, finding this distance all the more intriguing. She paused, as if to subtly remind him who was in control of this conversation.

“Lucas,” she said softly, almost in a whisper, “I need you in my room. Immediately. »

She didn't give him time to respond and hung up immediately. She loved playing this kind of game, where power changed hands with a simple phrase, a simple gesture. She knew Lucas was coming, but what she didn't know was how he would react to what she had planned.

A few minutes later, a light knock sounded at the door. Isabella adjusted her silk dress, making sure it fell perfectly on her curves before ordering:

“Come in. »

The door opened slowly, revealing Lucas. He looked immaculate, as always, dressed in his butler's uniform, every button neatly in place.He entered without a word, standing straight, hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on her with a quiet intensity that unsettled her for a moment.

Isabella observed him, trying to decipher the emotions that could be hidden behind this impassive mask. She took a step forward, her gaze never leaving his, searching for a flaw, a reaction, something that would betray his true thoughts.

“Lucas,” she began, her voice both soft and commanding, “I wanted you to check the curtains were closed. It seems to me that the moonlight is a little too… intrusive tonight. »

It was an excuse, of course. The curtains were perfect, drawn precisely, but she wanted to see how he would react to this first command, so seemingly simple. She was both intrigued and amused by this little game, curious to see if he would take the bait.

Lucas simply nodded and approached the window without a word, his movements slow and measured. He adjusted the curtains, pulling the fabric slightly to make sure no light came through. Then he turned back to her, his hands crossed behind his back again.

“It’s better this way, Madam,” he said, as polite and detached as ever.