Rewind_ I Don't Love You Anymore

I felt Sebastian's gaze on me throughout the evening, like a physical touch that followed me from room to room. Unlike the predatory stares of the male guests who saw nothing but a pretty servant, his eyes held something deeper—recognition, concern, and a haunting familiarity that made my skin prickle with awareness.

As I arranged fresh flowers in the drawing room, I caught him watching me from across the hall. His tall frame stood slightly apart from the other guests, his posture rigid with tension. When our eyes met, he didn't look away as most people would. Instead, he studied me with an intensity that suggested he was searching for something—or someone.

"You're different," he murmured later as I passed him in the corridor, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Not the same girl who was here last week."

I froze, the tray of empty glasses I carried suddenly heavy in my hands. "I'm not sure what you mean, Your Grace."

"I think you do." His eyes—a striking shade of gray that seemed to see straight through me—narrowed slightly. "You've changed overnight. The question is why."

Before I could respond, Mrs. Winters appeared at the end of the hallway, calling for more champagne to be served in the main salon. I used the interruption as an escape, slipping away from Sebastian's penetrating gaze.

But I couldn't escape Damien.

The party was winding down when he cornered me in the dimly lit hallway leading to the servants' quarters. His handsome face was flushed with wine and good cheer, his golden hair tousled in that way that had once made my heart flutter.

"There you are," he said, stepping directly into my path. "I've been looking for you all evening."

"I'm working," I replied coldly, trying to move past him.

He blocked my way, his hand coming to rest against the wall beside my head, trapping me. "Always so busy," he murmured, leaning closer. "I've been thinking about you all evening. There's something different about you tonight."

In my previous life, this had been the beginning—his casual interest, his flirtation, his false promises of affection that had seemed so genuine to a naive girl starved for attention.

But I wasn't that girl anymore.

"Move aside," I said, my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart.

Instead, he leaned closer, his expensive cologne overwhelming in the narrow space between us. "You know," he said softly, "most girls would be flattered by my attention."

"I'm not most girls," I replied, meeting his gaze directly.

Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or curiosity. He wasn't used to being challenged, especially not by a servant.

"Let me tell you something about yourself, Lord Rothschild," I continued, my voice dropping to ensure we wouldn't be overheard. "I know exactly what kind of man you are."

His smile faltered slightly. "Oh? And what kind of man is that?"

"A man who takes whatever he wants without thought for the consequences." My fingers curled into fists at my sides. "A man who sees people as toys to be played with and discarded when they're no longer amusing."

His expression shifted from surprise to something darker, more calculating. "You seem to have quite an opinion of me for someone who's only been in my employ for a week."

"Stay away from me," I said, the words clipped and final. "That's all you need to know."

I ducked under his arm and slipped away before he could recover from his shock. Behind me, I heard him exhale sharply—not with anger, but with what sounded almost like... admiration?

I should have known better.

The next morning, Damien sought me out again while I was dusting the library shelves.

"I can't stop thinking about what you said last night," he admitted, watching me with undisguised interest. "No one has ever spoken to me that way before."

"That's not necessarily a good thing," I replied without looking at him.

"It's refreshing," he insisted, moving closer. "Most women just simper and agree with whatever I say. But you... you're different."

I turned to face him directly. "I meant what I said. Don't waste your time or your charm on me."

Instead of being deterred, his smile widened. "I think I'd like to decide that for myself."

I recognized the gleam in his eyes—the thrill of the chase, the excitement of pursuing something that wasn't immediately available. My rejection hadn't warned him away; it had only made me more desirable.

Before I could respond, the library door opened and Sebastian Sterling entered, followed by Matilda Rothschild herself.

"Ah, there you are," Sebastian said, his eyes finding mine immediately. "Mrs. Rothschild and I were just discussing you."

Damien's expression darkened as he stepped back slightly.

"I understand you're looking for an assistant to help catalog your art collection," Matilda said to Sebastian.

Sebastian nodded, his gaze never leaving my face. "Yes. And I've heard excellent things about Elena Ashford's attention to detail and intelligence."

"She's just a maid," Damien protested, frowning.

"A maid who speaks three languages and has an encyclopedic knowledge of European art history," Sebastian countered smoothly. "At least according to Arthur Penhaligon."

My heart skipped a beat. Arthur—the elderly butler who had been kind to me in my previous life. The man who had tried to help me when Damien cast me out. How had Sebastian found him? What else did he know?

"Elena," Sebastian said, extending his hand toward me. "Would you consider taking on this position? The work would be challenging, but... rewarding."

Behind him, Damien's face hardened into a mask of confusion and growing determination. And in that moment, I realized I had just become a prize in a game between two powerful men—one who wanted to possess me, and one who claimed to want to save me.

But could I trust either of them?