Brennen stepped onto the third stair. A draft of air swept through the foyer behind him. A faint, sweet scent of gardenia hit his nose.

He stopped dead in his tracks. He whipped around. He stared at the maid in the corner like a panther locking onto prey.

Aracely felt his gaze burning into her back. Her fingers gripped the wet rag so hard her knuckles turned white. Her nails bit into her palms.

Brennen walked back down the stairs. His face was dark. He didn't believe his nose was lying to him.

He reached out. He was going to grab the collar of her uniform and pull her close.

The sharp clack of high heels echoed from the second floor.

Evelyn rushed down the stairs in a custom designer dress. She wedged herself perfectly between Brennen and the maid.

"Darling, you're home." Evelyn said. She wrapped her arms around his bicep. Her voice was sickeningly sweet.

Brennen yanked his arm away. He pointed at Aracely, who was shaking with her head down. "Who is this ugly creature? And why does she smell like that?"

Evelyn felt a spike of panic pierce her chest, but she quickly masked it, raising her voice so everyone in the grand foyer could hear. "The poor thing was disfigured in a horrific fire, Brennen. That smell is just a cheap, backwater herbal burn ointment made from white cicada flowers. The country folk use it all the time. It has this sickly sweet, fake gardenia stench to it that lingers forever." She pinched her nose delicately, adding a look of exaggerated disgust to sell the lie.

Brennen frowned. "Cheap ointment?" His rational mind told him that scent was not medicine. But the idea that he had slept with this monster was too absurd.

Aracely played along with Evelyn's lie. She shrank her shoulders and made herself look small and pathetic.

Brennen stared at the scene. He felt ridiculous. His insomnia had driven him insane. He actually thought a burned maid was the perfect woman from last night.

He waved his hand in disgust. "Keep your charity cases out of my sight, Evelyn. Don't let her dirty my carpets."

Evelyn nodded quickly. She turned to Aracely. Her face twisted with malice. "Get to the kitchen and wash the dishes. Now."

Aracely picked up her bucket. She kept her head down. She hurried down the hallway toward the servant quarters, making sure to keep her posture hunched and her shoulders curled inward to maintain her pathetic facade.

Brennen walked into his massive mahogany study. He fell into his leather chair. He ripped open the top two buttons of his shirt.

The lack of sleep crashed over him. His temples throbbed violently. His vision blurred at the edges.

Arthur knocked and entered. He placed a glass of warm water and a bottle of strong prescription sleeping pills on the desk.

Brennen stared at the white pills. Rage flared in his chest. His body was completely immune to the chemicals now.

He closed his eyes. The image of the ugly maid's clear, stubborn eyes flashed in his mind.

Those eyes merged perfectly with the feeling of the woman crying in his arms last night.

Brennen snapped his eyes open. He grabbed the glass pill bottle. He hurled it across the room.

The bottle shattered against the wall. White pills scattered across the floor. Arthur flinched and kept his head down.

Brennen breathed heavily. He hated losing control. He hated that a low-class maid was stuck in his head.

"Arthur." Brennen said. His voice was like ice.

Arthur stopped picking up the glass. "Yes, sir?"

"Take that disfigured maid out of the kitchen. Her only job is to clean the hallway outside my study."

Arthur looked up in shock. He didn't understand why his boss wanted the ugliest thing in the house right outside his door.

Brennen sneered. He didn't explain. He was going to watch her closely. He was going to prove to himself that his instincts were wrong.

Down in the kitchen, Aracely was scrubbing a greasy pan. Martha walked in. Her face was cold. She told Aracely about the job transfer. Aracely dried her hands. A cold knot of dread formed in her stomach.

It was 2:00 AM. The massive Levine Estate was dead silent. Only a few dim wall sconces lit the second-floor hallway.

Aracely pushed the heavy cleaning cart. She walked softly. She ran the quiet vacuum over the thick Persian rug.

She glanced at the closed doors of the study. A thin line of light spilled out from underneath. The dangerous man inside was still awake.

Sweat beaded on Aracely's forehead. Her lower back ached from bending over for hours. But she didn't dare stop.

Inside the study, Brennen had been awake for forty-eight hours straight. His nerves were snapping one by one.

His eyes were bloodshot. He ripped his tie off completely. He paced the room like a caged beast.

His throat closed up. He couldn't breathe. He yanked the study door open to get some air.

The door swung wide. The air in the hallway shifted. The sweet, clean scent of gardenia hit him right in the face.

Brennen's vision was blurry. He only saw a slender back pushing a cart a few feet away.

The extreme sleep deprivation cut his logic completely. His body took over.

He stumbled forward. He lunged at her back like a dying man reaching for water.

Aracely heard the heavy footsteps. She spun around in terror. Before she could see his face, a massive force slammed into her.

Brennen pinned her hard against the cold wall. His arms locked around her waist like steel bands.

Aracely opened her mouth to scream. Brennen's hot, calloused hand clamped over her lips.

He buried his face deep into her neck. He inhaled the scent off her skin. He breathed her in like a drug addict.

The miracle happened again. The explosive pain in his head washed away instantly.

Brennen let out a low groan of pure relief. His hard muscles relaxed. He dropped his entire body weight onto Aracely.

Aracely couldn't breathe under his weight. She struggled wildly. She pushed her hands hard against his chest.

Brennen felt his prey fighting back. His arms tightened instinctively. One of his hands slid down her waist and slipped under the rough fabric of her uniform.

The contrast between the cheap cloth and her silky skin confused him for a second. But the hunger swallowed the confusion.

Aracely squeezed her eyes shut. She thought her identity was going to be exposed right here in the hallway.

Brennen lowered his lips to kiss her neck.

A guest room door further down the hall suddenly flew open, the brass handle clicking loudly in the quiet night. Evelyn walked out, having heard the muffled commotion. She wore a sheer red lace lingerie set, her makeup perfectly touched up in anticipation of being summoned. She was holding a glass of warm milk.

She saw the two bodies tangled against the wall. Her eyes went wide. A piercing scream ripped from her throat.

The scream hit Brennen like a bucket of ice water. He snapped out of his daze.

He opened his eyes. He looked down. He was holding the ugly maid with the hideous scar.

Intense self-hatred and nausea hit him at the same time. Brennen shoved Aracely away like she was on fire.

Aracely lost her balance. She crashed into the cleaning cart. Her elbow slammed into the metal edge. She hissed in pain.

Evelyn stomped over in her heels. She raised her hand to slap Aracely. "You cheap slut! Trying to seduce the master!"

"Stop!" Brennen roared. His face was pale. He looked at his own shaking hands. He couldn't believe he had just forced himself onto a monster.

He turned around, walked back into his study, and slammed the door so hard the walls shook.

The afternoon sun beat down on the pavement. Taking advantage of Brennen’s afternoon board meeting, Aracely walked down the tree-lined street back to the estate. She had just finished secretly consulting specialized research at the medical school library.

She carried a faded canvas tote bag. She had stopped at a public restroom outside campus to glue the suffocating scar back onto her face and put on the heavy glasses.

A loud engine roared behind her. A silver Aston Martin sped down the street, hugging the curb.

The sports car swerved sharply toward her. A massive puddle of muddy water splashed up.

Aracely's muscles reacted instantly. Her training kicked in. She dodged the water perfectly. But then she remembered her "clumsy maid" persona. She forced herself to slip and fall hard onto the wet grass.

Her tote bag hit the ground. The zipper burst open. Cheap notebooks, old pens, and a pink, heart-shaped piece of paper spilled out.

The Aston Martin screeched to a halt. The door swung up. Erasmo Clark stepped out wearing limited-edition designer clothes. He whistled.

Erasmo walked over and stood over her. "Look at the ugly duckling rolling in the mud."

Aracely locked her jaw. She ignored him. She kept her head down and started picking up her pens.

Erasmo saw the pink paper. He snatched it off the grass before she could reach it.

Aracely's face tightened. She reached for it. It was a cruel prank note some bullies had shoved into her bag at the lecture hall.

Erasmo dodged her hand. He unfolded the paper. He cleared his throat and started reading it out loud in a mocking, theatrical voice.

The letter was a forged, pathetic love note directed at a wealthy heir on campus, shamelessly begging for his affection and heavily hinting at needing financial support for her tuition. It painted her as a desperate gold digger willing to throw away her dignity and pride for a few scraps of cash.

People walking by stopped to watch. They pointed at Aracely sitting in the mud. Disgust covered their faces.

Aracely curled her hands into fists. Her nails broke the skin of her palms. She had to swallow the anger. She couldn't show her fighting skills here.

The passenger window of the Aston Martin rolled down. Brennen Levine sat inside. His profile was carved from stone.

He wore dark sunglasses. He watched the scene coldly. The memory of losing control in the hallway last night made his stomach turn with disgust.

He heard the filthy words in the letter. His brow furrowed in deep revulsion. He pushed the car door open and stepped out.

Brennen walked over to Erasmo. He snatched the pink paper out of his nephew's hand.

He scanned the handwriting. His eyes looked at it like it was toxic waste. He threw the paper right at Aracely's face.

The paper slid down her scarred cheek and landed in the mud. Brennen looked down at her.

"You are not only physically repulsive," Brennen said, his voice dripping with ice. "Your soul reeks of rotting garbage."

He leaned in slightly. "If you ever try your cheap tricks on anyone in the Levine family again, I will make you wish you were dead."

Aracely looked up. She stared right into Brennen's eyes through her thick lenses. Her eyes weren't scared. They were dead and cold.

Brennen felt a sharp sting in his chest at her gaze. It made him angrier. He turned to Erasmo. "Get in the car. Stop wasting time with trash."

Erasmo shrugged. He whistled again and got into the driver's seat. The car roared away, blowing exhaust smoke into Aracely's face.

Aracely sat alone in the mud. She picked up the dirty pink paper. A cold, mocking smile touched her lips.

She stood up and brushed the dirt off her knees. Her mind replayed the moment Brennen snatched the paper.

As a top medical expert whose career had been ruthlessly sabotaged into forced anonymity, she didn't miss it. Brennen's index and middle fingers were twitching uncontrollably.

It was the physical symptom of a nervous system on the verge of total collapse from chronic insomnia. Aracely narrowed her eyes. She had just found the tyrant's fatal weakness.