Blaze groaned as she stretched on the bed, still drowsy. Her alarm had gone off minutes ago, but she'd ignored it.
She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, checked the time—
"Oh, shit!"
She was way behind schedule.
Bolting out of bed like she was possessed, she sprinted to the bathroom. After a lightning-fast shower, she yanked on her uniform—a sleek khaki and gold maid outfit, fitted snugly to her body. The top was tailored like a short, high-collared jacket, buttoned down the front, hugging her waist.
A matching short skirt reached mid-thigh, but sheer, skin-tight black leggings covered her legs. The gold accents shimmered under the light, adding an elegant touch.
It was a uniform that stood out—and it was all Red Devour's idea.
Blaze tied her braids into a high ponytail, grabbed her shoes, and darted out of the room without even glancing in the mirror.
She ran across the courtyard, past the looming mansion, and into the grand kitchen of the main house. The place was chaos. Dozens of maids bustled about, dressed in their standard black-and-white uniforms, preparing for the wedding.
She stood out immediately—not just because of her unique outfit, but because of her figure. While the other maids were slim and delicate, she was shorter, curvier, with strong legs and defined arms.
As she reached for a cup from the holder, a familiar voice called out.
"Blaze, you're late."
The chief butler, Cherry, stood near the kitchen's entrance, holding a leather notebook in one hand. She was a dignified woman in her forties, her dark hair still fully black and tied neatly in a low ponytail. Unlike the other maids, her gown was longer, with more white than black, marking her rank.
Blaze winced, pouring herself a quick drink. "I overslept."
Cherry sighed. "We could have sent someone else, but no one dares volunteer." She flipped through her notebook. "Red scares them."
Blaze took a sip and muttered, "I understand, Cherry." She set the cup down and rolled her eyes. "He's an idiot."
Blaze moved swiftly, her hands working with precision as she prepared Red's coffee. She set a fine porcelain cup on the counter, then poured freshly brewed espresso from the sleek, state-of-the-art coffee machine.
The rich aroma of coffee filled the air as she stirred in two teaspoons of sugar, a spoonful of ground nutmeg, and a few drops of vanilla extract. The scent deepened, warm and inviting.
"Damn, I don't have enough time to make his pancakes," she muttered, hurriedly opening the fridge.
Red was impossible when his breakfast was late—his mood would sour instantly, and he'd either cause unnecessary drama or throw one of his infamous tantrums. When something didn't go his way, it was as if his brain shut down completely.
"The waffles on the counter will be perfect," Cherry suggested as she finished noting something in her book.
Blaze exhaled in relief. "Thanks."
Grabbing two waffles from the plate, she quickly arranged them beside the coffee cup, then balanced the tray with one arm. With practiced ease, she strode out of the kitchen, heading upstairs at a brisk pace.
Red was a lazy jerk—no doubt about it. He insisted on taking breakfast in his room like some spoiled prince.
Reaching his door, she adjusted the tray, knocking with her free hand.
"Come in," came his immediate response.
Blaze pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Red's room was massive, designed more like a luxury penthouse than a bedroom. Against the far wall, a semi-circle of high-tech computers and multiple large TV screens dominated the space, flashing with different feeds.
A plush sectional sofa sat in the center, paired with a sleek, glass coffee table. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed natural light to spill in, though the dark color scheme—black with cool blue accents—kept the room from feeling too bright.
A private gym occupied one corner, and a massive wardrobe lined another. At the center of it all, a king-sized bed with jet-black sheets lay perfectly made, the polished marble floor beneath it reflecting the light.
Blaze walked straight to the coffee table, setting the tray down with a practiced motion.
"You're late," Red commented, not even glancing away from his screens.
"Your breakfast is ready," Blaze replied, ignoring his complaint.
Red finally stood from his chair, stretching before walking toward the sofa. His sharp gray eyes flicked toward her. "I love punctuality and hate laziness."
Blaze scoffed, folding her arms. "Oh, really?"
As he took a seat, she muttered under her breath, Says the laziest man the universe has ever known.
Red's sharp gray eyes flicked toward her, his smirk deepening. Blaze felt the heat of his gaze burning into her back, but she ignored it, pretending to focus on dusting the windows.
She knew he had heard her little insult. She could feel it in the air, the sudden shift in tension.
Red sipped his coffee, then cut into the waffle with a knife, bringing a bite to his mouth. The moment it hit his tongue, his face twisted into a look of pure disgust.
"You didn't make these waffles," he stated flatly.
Blaze stilled for a second before forcing a casual shrug. "I did. Why wouldn't I?"
She went back to dusting, but she could feel his stare boring into her.
"I know the taste of your waffles, Blaze. You can't lie to me about it," he said, placing his fork down with a deliberate clink.
Blaze groaned dramatically. "Oh, come on, don't be so picky!"
Red exhaled a slow, frustrated breath, running a hand through his messy black hair. "When I chose you out of all the servants, I knew what I wanted."
She turned slightly, arching a brow. "Alright, Great Mr. Red, what can I do to appease your royal highness?" she teased, hoping to lighten the mood.
A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face as he stood, his movements deliberate as he stalked toward her. His eyes raked over her body, lingering just long enough to make her stomach twist in a way she definitely didn't like.
"How about a dance?" he suggested smoothly. Then, before she could react, he added, "Or… no pay this month."
Blaze's head snapped toward him. "Are you serious?! My salary is due in two days! I've worked my ass off for the last twenty-eight!" She gestured wildly. "How about you just deduct today's pay from the total instead?"
Red chuckled darkly. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who decides things around here."
Blaze clenched her jaw. "Argh! I can't dance," she huffed, throwing her dusting cloth to the floor.
Red leaned in slightly, his smirk deepening. "Another lie," he drawled.
Blaze frowned. "What are you talking about?"
He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and turned the screen toward her.
Her heart stopped.
It was a video. Of her.
Wearing a grey hoodie and black sweatpants that clung way too tightly to her thighs, she was dancing with Selene in the courtyard. Selene, dressed in a tiny blue mini dress, twirled and swayed, while Blaze… oh, hell no.
Her body was fluid, rolling her hips in a slow, hypnotic wave before breaking into a sharp, precise pop, her arms sweeping with controlled grace. She wasn't just dancing—she was shaking her butt like nobody's business.
She snapped her gaze away from the screen, her face heating up.
Red smirked as he slid his phone back into his pocket. "So…"
"You stalk me?!" she accused, grasping for anything to shift the conversation.
He didn't even blink. "You're avoiding the point."
Damn it.
Blaze sighed, rubbing her forehead. She knew nothing would change his mind.
"Fine, I'll dance," she muttered.
Red leaned back onto his king-size bed, making himself comfortable. His sharp gray eyes locked onto her like a predator waiting for his prey to make a move.
Blaze squared her shoulders. "But—I get to choose the music," she bargained.
His smirk didn't falter. "Go ahead."
She grabbed her phone, scrolled through her playlist, and hit play.
A heavy techno beat filled the room, vibrating through the air. The bass was deep, pulsing, the kind of rhythm that demanded movement.
Blaze took a breath, then let herself go.
She started slow, rolling her shoulders back, letting the music sink into her body. Her hips swayed fluidly, each movement controlled, teasing, as she stepped forward, her eyes locked onto his.
Red's smirk twitched, but he didn't look away.
Blaze pivoted sharply, her body twisting with precise, sensual pops. A sharp drop—she bent low, rolling her hips, her hands running down her thighs before snapping back up in one fluid motion.
She spun, flipping her braids over one shoulder, throwing in a smooth body wave that made her back arch, her movements deliberate, teasing.
And Red?
He was riveted.
She could see it—the way his fingers curled against his knee, the way his lips parted just slightly, the sharp inhale he took as she dragged a hand up her own body.
The music built up. The beat dropped.
Blaze stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him. With one last smirk, she pivoted—turning away from him at the last second, her back now to him as she rolled her hips one last time.
Silence.
For a moment, the air was thick, the tension crackling between them like electricity.
Then—
A low, dark chuckle.
Blaze turned her head slightly, catching the way Red's tongue flicked over his upper jaw sharp canines, his gaze burning into her.
"Not bad," he murmured, voice lower than before. "But…"
She barely had time to react before he was standing, closing the space between them in one smooth stride.
Blaze inhaled sharply.
Her body stiffened, her breath caught in her throat as she waited—waited for whatever Red was about to do next.
But then, as if waking from a trance, she snapped back to reality.
With a sharp shove, she pushed him away. He stumbled back a step, his smirk faltering for the first time.
"What are you playing at?" she hissed, her voice laced with something she couldn't quite name—fear, anger, confusion, maybe all of them at once.
She didn't wait for his answer. Instead, she turned on her heel and stormed out, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
Blaze barely noticed the hallways as she made her way to Selene's room.