Chasing the Flame

CHAPTER EIGHT

KIMBERLY

Me and you, we're like puzzle pieces, until we're put together, we wouldn't fit perfectly.

POV

The following Monday, I arrived at Ethan's apartment promptly at 7 a.m. I had woken up at 5, too anxious to risk being late. For once, there was no one to stop me. This was an opportunity—one that could change everything for my family and me.

When I told my mom and sister about the job, they couldn't believe it. Their eyes lit up, and their excitement filled the room.

"Why would anyone pay you that much to be a housekeeper?" my mom asked, her tone laced with concern.

"It's a blessing, Mom. Everything's going to be okay," I reassured her, pulling her into a hug.

"I've heard rumors about Ethan Salvaire," my sister Amelia chimed in, her expression shifting to one of gossip. "They say he's a perfectionist—arrogant, proud, and... a total manslut."

I laughed it off, even though I couldn't fully disagree. "He's not that bad," I lied, my voice trying to sound convincing.

Mom, always the realist, asked, "How long will you be working for him?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe until I save enough to start my own business," I replied, determined. I had no intention of working as someone's servant forever. This was just a stepping stone.

Amelia grinned mischievously. "I heard he's ridiculously handsome, though. You sure you won't fall for his charms?"

Mom quickly shot her a look. "Don't let your guard down, Kimberly. He's ruthless."

I shrugged, trying to stay practical. "I doubt he'd even notice me like that. Look at how he treated Isabelle." But the idea lingered, if only for a moment.

Amelia, ever the optimist, smiled at me. "You're beautiful, sis. He'll be smitten in no time."

I gave her a soft smile. "Of course you'd say that—you're my sister."

When I arrived at Ethan's mansion, the security guard eyed me suspiciously, probably wondering why someone like me would be here. Ethan's place was overwhelming—ten bedrooms, five terraces with breathtaking views, a massive living room that made my entire home seem like a dollhouse in comparison. There was even a pool and a fully equipped gym. The sheer size and luxury of it all took my breath away.

The maids inside the mansion gave me the same puzzled look as the guard, like I was an oddity in Ethan's world. One of them, a friendly woman named Karen, welcomed me with a hug, instantly making me feel more comfortable. She led me to the kitchen, which was enormous and had every appliance a chef could dream of—high-end gas stoves, a multi-level oven, and shiny steel drawers. I couldn't help but marvel at how luxurious everything was.

"You're amazed now, but this is nothing compared to their family estate," Karen said with a wink, laughing at my wide-eyed awe.

"What?" I gasped. If this was just his private mansion, what could their family home possibly look like?

"I'll show you around when I'm less busy," Karen said, flashing me a kind smile. "But for now, why don't you start with breakfast? It's all on the list over there."

I nodded and set to work. The meal plan was extensive—typical for someone as wealthy as Ethan. I started preparing sausage, scrambled eggs, toast, and some coffee, decorating it with a simple design. Cooking came naturally to me; I had grown up helping my mom at her restaurant, so this was familiar ground. Still, my hands trembled slightly. I was nervous.

As I cooked, I heard footsteps approaching. My heart skipped a beat. It was him.

"Miss Stafford, I need my meal now," Ethan's voice called out from the dining room, firm and commanding.

I peeked out to see him already seated, dressed in a sharp black suit with his hair slicked back, looking like he had stepped straight out of a magazine. He was intimidatingly perfect.

For a moment, I froze. What if I trip? What if I mess this up? The thoughts swirled in my mind as I carried the plate of toast in one hand and the coffee in the other. I steadied myself and walked out, determined not to make a fool of myself.

He didn't even glance at me as I placed the meal in front of him, his attention fixed on the newspaper he was reading. His blue eyes, though barely visible, were striking enough to pull anyone's attention. I cleared my throat after setting the table.

"Sit," he commanded, without looking up.

I hesitated, surprised by the request. Why would I need to sit with him? Reluctantly, I took a seat opposite him, feeling like I had no choice.

"Tell me about yourself, Miss Stafford," he said, still engrossed in his paper.

I stiffened at the question. Of all the things he could ask, why that?

Taking a deep breath, I began. "I'm Kimberly Stafford, 24 years old," I said, trying to calm my nerves. "I graduated from high school in California, but I couldn't finish college due to financial issues. I studied psychology—a field I'm passionate about—but... life happened."

"And what special skills do you have?" he asked, his eyes still glued to the paper.

What kind of question was that? I fidgeted, feeling the sweat on my palms. "Well, I'm a good cook. I'm good with my hands... and I love to sing."

He finally gave a slight nod. "Cool."

Cool? That was it? He still hadn't even touched his meal.

"We're attending a fundraising event at 2 p.m. today," Ethan said abruptly, not missing a beat. "You can head home and get dressed. My driver will pick you up."

Wait—what? Attending an event wasn't part of my job. I didn't want to be seen at his side in public, but he didn't seem to care about what I thought.

"That'll be all for now," he dismissed me, turning back to his paper.

Before I could leave, he called out again. "Miss Stafford."

I paused, turning back to face him.

"You can eat the breakfast."