Page 16 of Her Alien Owner

Yet, even as my attraction grows, I know I must maintain my distance. The secrets of my past are not something I can share with anyone—least of all someone as pure-hearted as Ariana.

No matter how drawn I am to her, revealing too much would only put her in danger. And that's something I'm not willing to risk.

For now, I'll keep my mask firmly in place and watch over her from afar.

CHAPTER 7

ARIANA

The early morning light filters through the tall windows of Valen's estate, casting a soft glow over the polished floors. As I move through the grand hall, dusting and straightening objects that don't need it, I find my thoughts drifting back to Valen.

I pick up a crystal vase, its weight cool in my hands. I can't help but recall how, just yesterday, he noticed me struggling with a heavy tray and stepped in without a word. It wasn't just the action but the way he did it—quietly, almost intuitively. As if he could sense my weariness.

"Morning," comes a voice from behind me.

I turn to see one of the other staff members, Lisa, with her arms full of linens. "Morning," I reply, setting the vase down carefully.

"How’s it going?" she asks, her eyes curious but kind.

"Fine. Just... thinking."

"About him?" She doesn't need to say his name; we both know who she means.

I glance around to make sure no one else is listening. "He's... different."

Lisa chuckles softly. "Different how?"

"Kind," I say, feeling the word doesn’t quite capture what I mean. "And thoughtful. He pays attention."

She raises an eyebrow. "To you?"

Heat rises to my cheeks. "Well, yes."

Lisa nods knowingly and shifts the linens in her arms. "Just be careful, Ariana. Men like him..."

"I know," I cut in, not wanting to hear the warnings again. "But it's not just that he's rich or handsome. There's something else."

Lisa gives me a long look before sighing. "Alright. Just keep your eyes open."

As she walks away, I return to my work, polishing the already gleaming surface of a table. My mind wanders back to the moments when Valen’s thoughtfulness caught me off guard—the way he asked about my interests during dinner awhile ago, or how he seemed genuinely interested in my past.

His questions had been probing yet respectful, never crossing a line but always making me feel seen and heard.

A crystal punch bowl leftover from a recent party sits precariously on the table, delicate and perfect. I pick it up, lost in thoughts of Valen. His presence, his kindness—there’s something about him that keeps pulling me in.

Then, without warning, the bowl slips from my fingers.

Time seems to slow as it falls, shattering into a thousand sparkling pieces on the polished floor. Panic seizes me. My heart pounds, and I drop to my knees, frantically gathering the shards.

"Dammit," I mutter under my breath. "Stupid, stupid."

I barely notice the sharp pain in my hand until blood starts to drip onto the floor. Great. Just great. I had it so good here, too! But even with how kind Valen has been to me, there's no way a broken dish will go unpunished.

Tears prick at my eyes, both from the pain and the thought of returning to my old, sad life.

I try to stem the bleeding with my apron, but it's no use. The cut is deep.

Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, Valen is there. His strong hands gently pull mine away from the broken glass.