Chapter 3 The evening sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on Lance as he lay on the couch, his brow furrowed in discomfort. Slowly opening his eyes, he raised a hand to massage his throbbing temple and noticed Tara reclining on the adjacent couch, peacefully asleep. Even in slumber, her beauty was undeniable, her delicate features captivating as ever. Her work uniform hugged her form, accentuating her graceful curves. Lance found himself unable to look away.

His gaze lingered on her long, slender legs, their softness almost palpable. His expression turned serious, his thoughts inscrutable. Beside him, Stella stirred and awoke, her voice soft as she inquired, "Mr. Swain, you're awake?" Lance shifted his attention from Tara, his voice gruff. "Yeah. Did Gemma send you two to keep an eye on me?" Tara, rousing from her slumber, rubbed her eyes groggily as she observed Lance checking his watch.

Stella eyed Tara, who exuded a radiant glow despite her abrasive personality, and any annoyance dissipated. "Gemma assigned us to stay with you-for your safety," Stella explained as she handed Lance a glass of water. Tara remained still, not wanting to seem like she was trying to impress Lance. As Stella poured the water, Tara refrained from interfering, her presence in the background as the story's villainess.

Normally eager to assert herself, Tara sat back this time, showing no interest in engaging with the men. Lance followed Stella's gaze back to Tara, who had just stifled a yawn, her drowsy eyes flitting between them with a hint of confusion. Lance, recalling Tara's previous attempts to charm him, was taken aback by her current air of innocence, which he found unsettling. "Leave," Lance commanded coldly to Tara, the room falling silent.

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Stella awaited Tara's reaction, expecting embarrassment or tears. Instead, Tara stood promptly, displaying no offense or distress. "Right away, Mr. Swain," she replied briskly before exiting the room without hesitation. As the door clicked shut behind her, Tara breathed a sigh of relief, glad to escape Lance's scrutiny. Descending the stairs, she noted the quiet villa as night descended. With work still pending, she couldn't retire to her room yet, lest her wages be docked by Mr.

Oakley, the butler. Upstairs, Lance and Stella remained. Stella, bashful, was preparing to leave when Lance, in a low voice, asked, "Did I end up on top of you when I passed out drunk?" Stella's heart raced as she recalled Tara's distress, but she reassured Lance that she was unharmed. Offering compensation, Lance's gesture intrigued Stella, though she declined, wary of revealing the truth behind the incident. Lance dismissed her refusal, leaving his intentions unclear.

Meanwhile, Tara busied herself in the kitchen, dividing fruits for the men, mindful of their preferences. Her responsibilities as a housekeeper demanded meticulous attention to detail, a fact she was acutely aware of. Leah, a young woman from the laundry room, observed Tara's composure with disdain, expecting her usual subservience. Tara's indifference surprised Leah, who announced her fruit delivery duty with a haughty air, only to receive a nonchalant response from Tara.

Leaving Leah bewildered, Tara proceeded to the staff dining area, eager to enjoy her meal before dinner service. The chef's culinary skills had been a pleasant surprise, adding a touch of comfort to her demanding job.