~Becklan's POV~
"Leon," I whispered to the empty air, clenching my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. "I'll make you regret every single word you just said about me. You just signed up for the most special, most expensive liability of your miserable, heartless life."
I took a deep, shaky breath, straightened my uniform, and marched back into the main service hall. My face must have been broadcasting my internal nuclear meltdown, because Lan and the rest of the staff noticed immediately.
Lan, ever the protective one, came over, his brow furrowed with concern. "Becklan, what's wrong?"
I managed a tight, brittle smile. "I'm fine, Lan. Just... fine."
But the words felt like ash. I couldn't tell him that my gorgeous, perfect body had just been verbally trashed by my boss in front of a handsome stranger. I couldn't confess that Leon's malice ran so deep that he hadn't just rejected me, he was actively ensuring I remained trapped in servitude.
"No, you are not fine," Lan insisted, lowering his voice. "Did he say something cruel again?"
I finally broke. The frustration, the humiliation, the memory of that single, catastrophic event two months ago, it all came flooding back.
"Lan," I started, the word heavy with history. "It's not just the uniform. It's not just the Python. It's that Leon doesn't just hate me, he wants me permanently disabled from achieving my career goals. And all because of two minutes."
I looked down at the immaculate marble floor, and the memory of that day, the day my life derailed, played out vividly in my mind.
I was about to dive into more of Leon's twisted ways when Lan suddenly straightened.
"Everyone, listen up," he said, his voice sharp. "The President is ready for lunch."
My attention snapped back to the present. Perfect timing, just what I needed to fuel my anger equally at both of them. Leon was coming, and his friend Frank, the one who had just failed to defend me, would be right there, watching. Frank was attractive, sure, but a complete pushover. I hated them both now, simply because Frank hadn't told Leon to shut up.
The doors to the dining room swung open, and we all became statues of servitude.
Positioned near the doorway, I watched as Leon and Frank took their seats at the table. Leon was already digging in, a small, self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, completely oblivious. Frank, on the other hand, was staring at me, and not at my face.
Suddenly, Frank put down his fork. "Leon," he said, his voice casual but insistent. "You have a lot of workers here. They're all efficient. Won't you spare me one?
Leon kept chewing, smiling slowly. "Why not? Of course, I can spare you one of them. Pick whoever you like."
The attention of every maid in the room snapped to the table. I saw several of the others subtly adjust their aprons or smooth their hair, hoping to be chosen for the less torturous task of serving the kinder, hotter Frank.
Frank took his time, his eyes sweeping over the faces of the staff. Then, his gaze landed on me.
"Will you spare me your new maid?"
The sound of Leon's heavy silver spoon hitting the pristine porcelain plate was the loudest thing in the room.
CLANG!
Leon stopped chewing instantly, his casual smile vanishing. His eyes, usually cold steel, were suddenly intense, burning with pure possessiveness.
"What did you say?" Leon's voice was low, dangerous, and almost entirely devoid of volume. It was the sound of a CEO contemplating a hostile takeover.
Frank, oblivious to the temperature drop, repeated himself. "I said, I want him. Your new maid."
The air pressure in the room felt like it had dropped to zero.
Leon did not hesitate. His answer was immediate and sharp. "If it's Beck you want, the answer is no."
He lifted his spoon and continued eating, pretending the interruption didn't matter, though his jaw was tight. "He's my personal maid now. He knows exactly how to handle things for me, so I can't just let him go. He needs to stay close and work directly with me."
Frank leaned back, crossing his arms. "If you are not allowing him to work for me, then I don't want anyone else."
Leon said nothing after that. He just ate, radiating a fierce, silent ownership that settled over me like a suffocating blanket. Frank eventually dropped the subject, and they continued their lunch in silence.
When Frank finally left, I was shaking with a tangled mix of triumph and fear. Leon didn't want me, but he certainly didn't want anyone else to have me either.
Leon turned to me as the dining room emptied. His eyes were fixed on me, sharp and commanding. "Beck," he said, "come to my room tonight. I'll go over everything you need to know for tomorrow, what we'll be doing, what you'll need to bring, and how to help me. I want you to be prepared."
"Okay, sir," I managed, my voice subdued.
Night fell, bringing with it a deep, creeping anxiety. I stood at Leon's door, key card in hand. The memory of the shared hotel room, the insult, and the possessiveness at lunch had my mind spinning. I was focused only on getting the information and getting out.
I swiped the card. The light flashed green. And then, idiotically, I forgot to knock.
I walked into the room, and the silence I expected was replaced by a barrage of aggressive, wet sound effects.
The lights were dimmed, bathing the enormous suite in a deep, decadent gold. And dominating the entire space was a massive flat screen, currently filling the entire wall with the high-definition, glossy, utterly explicit image of two beautiful bodies entangled.
Leon wasn't on the screen. He was seated on the plush sofa, and his movements were synchronized perfectly with the moaning sounds booming from the speakers.
"F*ck! Yes! That's it!" the voice on the screen screamed.
Leon was in the middle of his own intensely private moment, leaning back, his expression a mask of pure, uninhibited release.
I froze. My entire body locked up, a statue carved in the doorway.
And that's when it happened. Right there, in front of the giant, pornographic backdrop, amplified by the surround sound, Leon reached his climax.
He held a tissue in his hand, and the cum spilled onto it.
I just stood there, paralyzed. I had witnessed the most private, most aggressively intimate moment of the ruthless man I hated. My brain was short-circuiting.
Just as my instincts screamed at me to bolt, Leon lifted his head. His eyes, still glazed with surprise, landed on me standing there, rigid in the doorway, having walked in uninvited and witnessed him at his absolute zero hour.
He cleaned himself with surgical precision, but before I could turn or reach the door, Leon moved. He sprang up from the sofa with alarming speed, already too fast for me to react, and without even bothering to cover his naked lower half.
He slammed the door shut and locked it with a sharp, decisive click.
I was shaking, staring at his completely exposed, magnificent, and very much active cock.
"Didn't I warn you about barging in without knocking?" he hissed, voice low and dangerous, chest rising and falling with barely contained tension. "Having the key to my room doesn't mean you can just swipe it and walk in whenever you please!"
I quickly stammered, "I-I was sorry! I forgot, sir, I was just—"
The door was locked. I was wrong. I was terrified.
Leon took a slow, deliberate step toward me, his eyes dark and hungry.
"Since you want to be on my bed so badly, Beck," he whispered, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips, "why not come and have a taste?"
"Taste… what, sir?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
He leaned closer, eyes dark with accusation. "Taste what you've been accusing me of from the very beginning."
"No! No, no, no!" I started begging, backing up until my spine hit the marble wall.
He didn't wait. He grabbed…