The mansion was breathtakingly grand, an architectural masterpiece that exuded wealth and power. As she moved through its vast corridors in her uniform, her keen eyes took in every corner, every passageway. Gathering information here would not be easy; the house was too structured, too carefully guarded. If she wanted to succeed, she had to be sharper than ever—nothing could escape her attention.

"If they had sent me as a chief maid, I would have been stuck in the kitchen all day," she mused inwardly, adjusting the stack of fresh bedsheets in her arms. "This way, I can move freely… observe everything."

Determined, Emma approached the first room on her list. As she reached for the doorknob, she realized it was locked. Before she could react, a deep, commanding voice echoed from behind.

"Where are you going?"

She turned swiftly, her breath catching for the briefest moment. Standing before her was a man of towering height, well over six feet, his frame lean yet powerful. His light blue shirt fit snugly over his sculpted build, and his dark jeans accentuated his confident stance. A neatly trimmed beard framed his sharp jawline, and his deep brown eyes—piercing and unreadable—were locked onto her with quiet intensity.

There was no mistaking him. Imran Roy.

Her target.

Composing herself, Emma adjusted her grip on the bedsheets and replied smoothly, “I was asked to change the bed linen, sir.”

Imran’s gaze didn’t waver. “There’s no bed in that room,” he stated, cutting through her words with unnerving precision.

Emma hesitated for half a second before offering a demure smile. “Ah… Today is my first day. I’m still getting familiar with everything.”

He studied her carefully, his gaze lingering just a little longer than necessary. “First day, huh?” His voice was measured, curious. “Strange… I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Emma’s mind worked quickly. She had been around powerful businessmen before—perhaps Imran had crossed paths with them. But she couldn’t afford to let him dwell on that thought.

“I don’t think so, sir,” she said with polite confidence. “We’ve never met.”

Imran cocked his head slightly. “How old are you? Twenty-five?”

She shook her head. “Twenty-two.”

His lips quirked at the corner. “Oh? You don’t look like a typical maid.”

Emma met his gaze, unfazed. “And what exactly do I look like, sir?”

He leaned back slightly, appraising her with a hint of amusement. “With your looks and posture… you could easily be a model. Or an actress.” His eyes flickered briefly over her, appreciating the sharpness of her features, the way she carried herself.

Emma felt a thrill of satisfaction. She was drawing him in.

“So…” she mused playfully, tilting her head. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Imran chuckled, a low, knowing sound. “I can’t say that.” His voice carried an edge of teasing restraint. “If my fiancée found out, she wouldn’t be too pleased.”

Emma arched a delicate brow. “Oh? But I know how to keep secrets, sir. Perhaps… it could be our secret.”

A flicker of intrigue crossed Imran’s face. There was something bold about this woman, something unexpected. Most people around him were either fearful or overly flattering. She was neither.

“You don’t strike me as someone who gossips,” he observed, watching her closely. “I imagine you keep to yourself.”

Emma’s smile was enigmatic. “I focus on my work, sir. It’s not my job to spread news that isn’t mine.” She lowered her gaze slightly, feigning humility. “I apologize if I spoke out of turn.”

Imran exhaled, intrigued. “You talk like someone from my office.”

Emma seized the opportunity. “I’d like to be one of them someday.”

That caught him off guard. “What?”

She lifted her chin slightly. “I’m studying Business Management.”

His brow lifted in genuine surprise. “Interesting. A maid by day, a businesswoman by night.”

They both chuckled softly, the tension between them shifting into something lighter, more playful.

“I don’t usually talk much with people at work,” Imran admitted, his voice quieter now. “But… you’re different. I like that.”

Emma met his gaze, her smile sweet—innocent, even. But behind that expression lay something far more calculated.

If only he knew how much was hidden behind that smile.

The moment lingered just a second too long. Then, as if snapping back to reality, Imran glanced at his watch. “Time flies. I should get going.”

Emma nodded quickly. “Oh! Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir—I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

He shook his head, that same unreadable smile on his lips. “You didn’t waste my time at all. I actually enjoyed our conversation.”

Emma tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, offering a coy smile. “But sir, doesn’t everyone know how to talk?”

Imran smirked. “Of course. But very few people are actually interesting.”

Her eyes sparkled. “So you think I’m interesting?”

His smile turned teasingly flirty.

Just then, she turned to continue her work, moving up the stairs with the fresh linens. She was halfway up when—

“Wait.”

Imran’s voice, suddenly serious, stopped her mid-step. Emma turned, her heart pounding—partly from anticipation, partly from the act she had to put on.

She watched as he bent down, picking up a bedsheet that had slipped from her grasp. “You dropped this.”

Emma exhaled softly, stepping down to retrieve it. “Oh… I must have dropped it while talking. Thank you, sir.”

She took a few more steps before, deliberately, she let out a quiet gasp.

With a dramatic motion, she stumbled—no, threw herself down the stairs.

Everything happened in a blur. Imran lunged forward, catching her just in time, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. Their bodies collided, her hands gripping his collar, their faces barely inches apart.

For a moment, everything stilled. Their breaths, their movements. She could feel the heat of his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his shirt.

And then, just as suddenly, Imran pulled back, breaking the moment. Emma quickly bent down, gathering the scattered bedsheets, but not before noticing the way Imran watched her—his gaze lingering just a moment too long.

As he finally turned to leave, she caught the way he hesitated at the door, looking back at her once more.

That was all she needed.

Emma ascended the stairs, a slow, victorious smile spreading across her lips.

The game had begun.

And she had passed the first test flawlessly.