THE SASSY PRINCESS

Chapter 9

When Elara asked how it went with Pedro earlier, I told her it was simpler than I thought. She grinned, nudging me playfully on the arm. “See? Told you it wouldn’t be that bad.”

I returned the smile, but I could feel Clara’s eyes burning holes into me from across the room. Her gaze was full of jealousy and mischief, her lips curled into a sneer. It was as if she hated that I hadn’t failed or embarrassed myself in front of Pedro.

Later that day, I was given another task—this time to heat water for Mr. Pedro. Elara insisted on helping me with the heavy bucket, and together, we managed to get the hot water up to his room. I was in a rush, tired and distracted, and completely forgot to knock before entering.

The moment I stepped in, my breath hitched. Pedro was standing in the middle of the room, a towel slung low around his waist, leaving his toned torso on full display. His skin glistened slightly, either from a recent shower or the heat of the room, and the sight of his well-defined chest made my thoughts scatter.

I stood there, frozen, unable to tear my eyes away. My cheeks grew warm as my gaze traveled against my will. His shoulders were broad, and every muscle on his chest seemed perfectly sculpted, as though he had been carved out of marble.

Pedro noticed my lingering stare and smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Done enjoying the view?" His voice was low, smooth, and teasing.

My face ignited with embarrassment. “I-I wasn’t—” I stammered, but my words failed me entirely. Feeling like a fool, I quickly shuffled to the bathroom, poured the hot water into the basin, and scurried out of the room like a startled rabbit.

As soon as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I bumped straight into Clara. She crossed her arms, her sharp eyes scanning my flushed face. “Why are you red?” she asked, her voice dripping with suspicion.

I shook my head, trying to compose myself. “It’s… It’s just hot in there.” I waved my hand toward Pedro’s room, avoiding her gaze.

Clara narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it. A sly grin curled on her lips, as though she sensed an opportunity to stir trouble. "Hot, huh? Or maybe something else got your heart racing?"

I bit my lip, refusing to engage, but I could feel the heat creeping further up my neck. Clara leaned closer, her grin widening. "Don’t tell me—our little princess is catching feelings for Mr. Pedro?"

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I muttered, brushing past her. But I knew from the glint in her eyes that this wasn’t the end of her taunting.

Elara, waiting nearby, gave me a sympathetic look. "Don't let her get under your skin," she whispered. But I could already sense that Clara was going to make it her mission to pry into whatever had just happened upstairs.

It didn’t take long for me to notice Mr. Pedro’s little game. Every time I was in the house, he seemed to find an excuse to walk around half-dressed, his towel slung low on his hips, or his shirt mysteriously missing. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But after the third time? I knew better. He found it amusing—the way my face would heat up, and how I’d try to avoid looking at him while pretending everything was normal.

Then came the day I stumbled upon Clara leaving his room.

She was frantically buttoning up her blouse, her hair disheveled, and—much to my shock—her undergarment dangled from one hand as she struggled to put it back on. She froze the moment she saw me, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and smug defiance, as if daring me to say something.

I couldn’t find words. My stomach churned with a strange, uncomfortable feeling, though I couldn’t tell if it was disgust, confusion, or something else entirely. Clara narrowed her eyes at me, flicked her hair back with unnecessary drama, and strutted away without saying a word.

I hesitated in the hallway for a moment, debating whether I should turn back. But something made me step inside Pedro’s room.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, looking out of sorts. His usual smug, playful demeanor was gone. The sparkle in his eye had dimmed, and in its place was a heaviness, like a storm cloud looming just beneath the surface.

“Is everything… okay?” I almost asked aloud, but I caught myself. I had learned the hard way that it was better not to pry where Pedro was concerned.

He didn’t even look up when I entered. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

For a second, I wanted to ask. I wanted to know what was bothering him, why Clara had been in his room, and what the relationship between them was. But instead, I reminded myself that it was none of my business.

So, I turned toward the door, hoping to slip out unnoticed. Just as I reached the threshold, Pedro’s voice cut through the silence.

“Not everything is what it seems, princess.” His tone was soft but filled with meaning, almost like a warning.

I stopped but didn’t look back. For a moment, we sat in that strange, shared silence—an unspoken understanding hanging in the air between us. Then, without another word, I walked out, leaving whatever burden he was carrying behind in that room.