Try it On

**KAELIA**

I jolted in my seat, a physical tremor shooting up my spine. My fingers gripped the heavy gold pen for a second longer before I placed it down. I picked up the signed, binding document and pushed it across the mahogany desk toward Navarro. Bewildered by the crude mandate he had just delivered, my mind raced to process the vulgarity.

"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice strained in the quiet office. "What did you just say?"

Navarro didn’t flinch. His expression remained a mask of deadly seriousness. He leaned forward slightly, his wide shoulders filling my vision, and calmly reiterated his explicit command.

"I said, no fucking the bosses."

I stared at him, my brow knitting together. "Are you trying to insult me?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. But do not insult me by breaking that rule."

*This man must be out of his mind.* The words echoed in my skull. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "The bosses?"

"My associates," he clarified, his tone dropping into a smooth, dark rumble as he detailed the boundary. "My business partners. Those bosses. You may not sleep with a single one of them. Do you understand? Not even the men I personally like." His vivid emerald eyes locked onto mine, his thick lashes lowering to half-mast. "And crucially, not even me."

A genuine smile broke across my face before I possessed the sense to stop it. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, utilizing every ounce of my willpower to suppress a sudden burst of incredulous laughter. The staggering size of his ego was suffocating. Internally, my thoughts spun in a wild debate. *Is he attempting to flirt with me? Or is this a calculated psychological test designed to see how I handle pressure?*

I cleared my throat, managing an awkward, breathy response. "Um. Deal?!"

His brow furrowed. He stood from his large leather chair and moved with predatory grace around the desk. He didn't stop until he was perched on the very edge of the mahogany surface, directly in front of me.

"You say that so easily, I can almost believe you."

"Why wouldn't you believe me?" I shot back, assuring him of my character. "I am not a sexual predator. I don't just randomly go around sleeping with people, especially not some terrifying black market tycoon like you."

Navarro remained still. He perched there, intensely studying me, his gaze sweeping over my frame in cold calculation.

"You are young," he assessed aloud, his voice clinical. "Innocent." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he delivered a pointed insult. "And if you were to actually brush your tangled hair and put on some decent, non-stained clothing, you might even be considered fairly pretty."

The verbal insult landed heavy on my deepest insecurities. My stomach twisted. Under his intense gaze, I began to fidget. My hands rose on their own accord, my fingers seeking out the single, distinct dyed silver stripe hidden within my dark black hair. I twirled the strands nervously, desperate for a distraction from his suffocating presence.

Navarro noticed the nervous tick instantly.

He reached out with a surprising, fluid motion. His large hand closed the distance between us before I could pull away. His fingertips brushed against my forehead, gently sweeping the pale silver strands away from my eyes. The brief physical contact sent a jolt of electricity sparking through the air. The warmth of his skin against mine was alarming.

Then, he pulled back, severing the connection. He slid off the desk and strode purposefully toward the heavy office door.

"Address me simply as Bas," he instructed over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir," I muttered under my breath, standing to follow him.

Bas led me out of the office and down the sprawling corridor toward a wide, opulent staircase at the far end. As we ascended the marble steps, he began laying out the strict physical boundaries of my employment within the massive estate.

"There is an elevator on the opposite side of the house, behind the kitchen," Bas stated, his broad back to me as he climbed. "You are restricted to the third floor. You have no business on any other level. You are forbidden from ever utilizing that elevator. Furthermore, you are legally bound to follow my direct orders, as well as the orders of my head of security."

I gripped the ornate railing, glancing up at the towering ceiling. "Who is that?"

"His name is Kieran," Bas answered smoothly. "He is away on business and will not return until tomorrow night. When I am not present, he is in charge."

Attempting to deploy a sense of humor to manage my spiraling anxiety, I snorted out a sarcastic guess. "Let me guess. I'm not allowed to fuck Kieran either."

Bas halted on the stairs.

He didn't speak for a second. "It deeply bothers me how funny you find my rules," he complained in a low, dangerous tone.

He spun around on the step with such intense speed that my brain failed to register the danger. I couldn't stop my forward momentum. My foot caught on the edge of the marble tread, and I stumbled upward, crashing directly into his solid frame.

My hands flew up to brace for the heavy impact. My palms landed flat against him, molding perfectly over the rock-hard pectorals of his chest.

The contact caused Bas to suck in a sharp, harsh breath.

His hands shot upward with lightning speed. Instead of pushing me backward, he clamped his large hands over my wrists, trapping my hands firmly against his chest. I froze. I could feel the thudding rhythm of his heart beneath my palms, the heat radiating through his shirt.

His bright emerald gaze darkened, transforming into a deep, stormy shade. He stared down at me, his pupils dilating until they nearly swallowed his irises. A thick muscle ticked in his clenched jaw, betraying the tight control he was maintaining.

Trapped against his heat, panic surged through my veins. Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck.

"S-sorry," I stammered out, tripping over my own tongue in a jumbled apology. "I didn't mean to touch you, I couldn't stop—"

Bas snapped out of his intense trance. He released my hands, shoving them away from his chest as he took a rigid step back.

"You are even clumsier than your cousin Scarlett," he muttered, his voice tight.

He reached out, grasping my elbow to guide me up the remaining stairs. I followed him, my face burning hot while I cursed myself for being so distracted by his overwhelming physique. The memory of those firm muscles beneath my hands lingered on my skin.

Reaching the third-floor landing, Bas marched down the long hallway. He stopped at a heavy door situated at the very end of the corridor and pushed it open.

I stepped inside the room, my jaw dropping in awe at the sight. It was a lavish, elegantly decorated private sitting room. A cozy fireplace dominated the center wall, casting a warm glow across a plush loveseat. Beyond the seating area, grand glass doors opened out onto a wide balcony.

Awestruck by the sheer luxury of the space, I walked further in. "Whose room did this used to be?" I whispered, taking in the expensive details.

Bas snapped back harshly. "Who cares."

He strode past me, his boots thudding against the carpet, and pushed open the adjoining door. He walked into the bedroom, stopping at the edge of the luxurious queen-sized bed. He sat down on the very edge of the mattress and leaned back casually on his elbows, watching me hover in the doorway.

"This suite is now yours," he coldly announced.

He lifted his chin, pointing toward a set of large wooden doors across the room. "Your official maid uniform is waiting in the closet."

His tone shifted, hardening into a strict command. "Retrieve it and try it on immediately. I need to verify it fits you properly."

My stomach did a nervous flip. I stumbled awkwardly across the room to the closet, wrapping my fingers around the handles and throwing open the doors. My small suitcase sat on the floor, but my attention was instantly drawn upward.

I reached up and pulled the hanger down. It was a tiny, revealing French maid uniform waiting in the shadows.

Holding it up to the light, I visually studied the garment. The bodice was tight, constructed to push and squeeze. The neckline was low-cut, offering zero coverage. The skirt barely qualified as clothing.

I could feel the heavy weight of Bas's challenging stare burning a hole directly into my back.

I bit my lip. I deduced this entire situation in a heartbeat. This was a psychological game. He wanted me to chicken out. He wanted me to fail his test and prove I couldn't handle the pressure of his household.

Steeling my nerves, I gripped the hanger tight. I turned around, clutching the uniform to my chest, and stepped toward the en-suite bathroom to change in private.

"Uh-uh, no," Bas barked out, hitting me with a sharp command that halted me in my tracks. "Right here."

I turned my head, staring at him on the bed.

He didn't flinch. He pointed a firm finger at the floor in the center of the bedroom, dictating his terms.

"Strip and try the uniform on directly in front of me," he ordered, his voice echoing in the quiet room. He bluntly stated his intention without a shred of hesitation. "I want to watch you put it on."

My brain short-circuited at the sheer audacity of his command. I stood frozen on the carpet, clutching the scrap of fabric to my chest, my mind repeating a single, stunned thought.

*What... the... fuck?*