He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying her with a quiet kind of interest, as though her request had interrupted something far less important than it should have.
"Work," he repeated, almost thoughtfully. "You've been here less than a day and you're already trying to make yourself useful."
Mallory didn't waver. "I don't intend to stay useless."
That earned the faintest shift in his expression—not quite a smile, but close enough to suggest he found that answer… acceptable.
"And what exactly," he continued, "do you think you can do?"
"Whatever needs to be done."
He exhaled lightly, almost amused. "That answer tends to mean nothing in particular."
"It means I'll do what I have to."
Lucien tilted his head slightly, considering her in a way that felt less like judgment and more like quiet evaluation.
"You're asking for employment," he said, "in a house you entered without permission."
"And you're the one who let me stay."
There was no hesitation in her voice.
That, more than the words, caught his attention.
"You're quick to connect things that don't necessarily belong together," he said.
"Aren't they connected?"
"Not at all."
The answer came too easily.
Mallory's gaze sharpened. "Then let them be."
Lucien watched her for a moment longer, and this time the amusement didn't bother hiding itself as much.
"You're very determined for someone with nowhere else to go."
"Maybe that's why."
That did it.
A quiet, low chuckle slipped from him—not loud, not warm, but real.
"Fair enough."
He rose then, unhurried, his movements smooth and deliberate. As he stepped closer, the space between them shifted—not closing, but narrowing just enough to be noticed.
"If I were to give you work," he said, his voice lowering slightly, "it wouldn't be kindness."
"I didn't ask for kindness."
"No," he agreed, glancing at her briefly. "You asked for a chance."
The word lingered for a second.
Lucien studied her again, more carefully now, as though deciding whether she was worth the trouble.
"You may stay."
Mallory didn't move, but her attention sharpened.
"On one condition."
Her chin lifted just slightly. "Which is?"
"You don't leave this house without telling me first."
She frowned faintly. "That sounds less like a condition and more like a rule."
"It is a rule."
"And the work?"
"You'll do what I ask when I ask it."
Mallory's gaze didn't soften. "That's vague."
"It's intentional."
A brief silence followed, but this one felt lighter—less like resistance, more like something settling into place.
Mallory exhaled. "Fine."
Lucien's brow lifted slightly. "That was quick."
"I don't have better options."
"No," he said, a hint of something knowing in his tone, "you really don't."
It should have sounded insulting.
Instead, it sounded… honest.
He turned away, moving back toward his desk as though the matter had already concluded itself.
"You'll be informed when I need you," he added.
Mallory remained where she was for a second longer. "That's all?"
"For now."
She studied him, as though expecting more—clarity, perhaps, or limits she could understand.
He glanced at her again, just briefly.
"Unless you've changed your mind," he said, almost lightly. "You're free to walk out that door."
Mallory held his gaze."I haven't."
Something flickered in his expression again—approval, maybe, or interest."Good," he said.
And just like that, he dismissed her without saying it outright.Mallory turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind her.The hallway felt the same but she didn't.Because now—this wasn't just a place she had entered.It was a place she had chosen to stay.