35

Chapter 35

That night, the manor was silent, except for the faint rustle of Misty playing in the shadows. Just as I started to drift off, the sound of my door opening brought me back to full awareness. My heart nearly stopped until I saw Richard slip inside, closing the door softly behind him.

"Richard," I whispered sharply. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he crossed the room with his usual confident stride and sat on the edge of my bed.

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted. "I'm afraid everything that's happened isn't real, and when I wake up, it'll be back to normal."

"Richard, your parents are home," I said, sitting up. "If they find you here—"

"They won't," he interrupted, his tone calm, almost daring. His fingers brushed my arm, and that familiar warmth spread through me. "Carl, stop overthinking."

I shook my head, lowering my voice further. "We just spent the night together! And don't forget, the rest of the staff returns tomorrow. If anyone sees you leaving my room..." I trailed off, imagining the inevitable gossip.

"I'll be careful then," he said, his hand cupping my cheek. "Relax. You're acting like this is some huge crime."

"It might as well be!" I shot back. "Richard, I'm serious. Everyone—"

"They won't find out," he said firmly, leaning closer. His gaze locked onto mine, filled with stubborn determination. "I'll leave before anyone knows. Just let me stay. Please?"

His presence and touch were disarming and convincing enough that despite the fear of being caught, I felt bad about telling him to leave.

After a long moment, I sighed and relented, lying back down. "Fine. Just this once."

Richard eagerly slipped under the blanket beside me before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer. My head rested instinctively against his chest. His warmth and calm presence eased my tension that I found myself leaning into him despite my earlier protests.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" I muttered lazily.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through me. "Good," he murmured, petting my head lightly. "Now go to sleep."

I closed my eyes willfully.

"Goodnight, Carl," he whispered, his lips brushing against my temple.

"Goodnight, Richard," I whispered back, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull me into sleep.

The end of the year finally arrived, and the manor was alive with the noise of the New Year's Eve party. I spent most of the night helping out and after a short break, I found myself face-to-face with Mr. Young in the grand room. He was gazing up at a painting, lost in thought.

"Mr. Young," I said, balancing a tray of champagnes. "Can I help you with anything?"

He turned to me with a small smile on his face. "Carlton, right?"

"Yes, sir."

He studied me for a moment, his gaze lingering. "You've been here a long time, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir. Since I was a kid" I replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"Can you tell me what this painting is about?"

"To be honest, sir, I'm not sure. I don't really have an eye for art."

He laughed. "You're an interesting guy you know that?" He paused, his gaze still fixed on me. "There's something about you... I can't quite place it."

Suddenly, Richard appeared, his expression sour. "Carl," he said, his voice sharper than usual. "I need you."

I quickly excused myself from Mr. Young and followed Richard, noticing the tension in his posture.

Once we were out of earshot, I glanced at him. "What's wrong?"

"What were you talking about?" Richard asked, his voice cold.

"Nothing important. He was just making conversation," I said, puzzled by his reaction.

Richard's jaw tightened. "I don't trust him."

I raised an eyebrow. "He's your family's guest."

"That doesn't mean I have to like him," Richard muttered, glancing back toward the grand room "You know there are rumors about him, don't you? The kind that make him... interested in you."

I blinked, heat rising to my face at the implication. "Richard, that's crazy."

"Is it?" His tone was casual, but his jaw was tense. "Just stay away from him, Carl."

"Why does it matter?" I asked, frustrated. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

Richard stepped closer. "Because I don't like the way he looks at you."

My breath stopped at the possessiveness in his voice. "Richard..."

He held my gaze, eyes unwavering. "Promise me."

I exhaled, half-annoyed and half-flustered. "I'll see what I can do."

His face softened slightly, a small smile playing at his lips. "Good," he said, ruffling my hair before leaving. I quickly fixed it, not wanting to look too disheveled when I went back to work.

I moved through the crowd, serving drinks and making sure everything ran smoothly. Richard was across the room, mingling with guests, but I could feel his eyes on me—his gaze seemed to follow me, heavy and intense, burning into my skin wherever I went.

When I glanced up, our eyes met, and a rush of adrenaline shot through me. I quickly looked away, focusing on the tray of champagne in my hand. I couldn't afford to let anyone notice the tension between us.

But Richard wasn't making it easy. Every time I stole a glance, he was watching me, his expression unreadable but intense. It was distracting, and I found myself making more than a few clumsy mistakes as the evening dragged on.

It frustrates me that he's so far away, yet he's stuck in my head.

The countdown to midnight began, and the room buzzed with anticipation. Guests gathered near the large windows overlooking the snowy garden, ready to watch the scheduled fireworks display. I stayed near the back, blending into the background as I continued my duties.

Before I knew it, Richard was at my side, his hand wrapping around my wrist. "Come with me," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise.

"Richard, I can't—"

He didn't give me a chance to argue, pulling me through the crowd and up the grand staircase. I could feel my nerves rising as people watched us leave. What if they started asking questions?

We reached his room, and he quickly closed the door behind us, locking it.

"I've been wanting to be alone with you," he growled, his voice low and intense.

"Why did you have to drag me here?"

"I wanted my New Year's kiss with you."

I stared at him, momentarily lost for words. "What?"

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" The countdown echoed in the hallway, growing louder with each passing second.

Richard turned to me, his expression softening. "Happy New Year, Carl," he said quietly. "I hope to spend all the years ahead with you."

"Five! Four!"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"Three! Two! One!"

The first burst of fireworks lit up the sky, their vibrant colors flooding the room. It was breathtaking. In that instant, Richard closed the distance between us, his lips crashing into mine—urgent and hungry.

My body went weak, instinctively reaching for him. The world outside, the noise, the fireworks—all of it vanished. The only thing that mattered was him.

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