Chapter 2: His private room

The door to the presidential study swung open. Corvin Vellor stepped in first.

Marcus followed, flipping through his notes from the earlier political briefing.

“The Northern Bloc negotiations are escalating if we don’t finalize terms by Thursday, we may risk…”

Corvin didn’t respond.

He passed the grand desk without a word, hands sliding into his pocket as he moved toward the floor to ceiling window overlooking the courtyard

Then he saw her.

She sat beneath the orange blossom tree on a weathered stone bench, a book resting open in her lap. Her fingers lazily turned a page, but her eyes sparkled with a smile not at the book, but at someone.

Julian.

Corvin's younger brother lounged beside her, head tilted as he peeked at the pages, teasing her softly. She laughed, trying to turn the page away from him, but he reached around, brushing her shoulder with a gentle touch. Her laughter came again.

Something twisted uncomfortably in Corvin's chest, a sharp irritation he couldn’t shake

Marcus, still going on behind him, paused when he noticed the president wasn't responding.

“Mr President” Marcus voice nudged him

Corvin's eyes stayed fixed on the window "Who is she?"

Marcus blinked, caught off guard "Pardon"

"The girl” Corvin said quietly, voice low and cold “With Julian”

Marcus stepped closer to the glass, following Corvin's gaze. "Oh” Marcus said lightly “She’s Layla, one of the palace chauffeur’s daughter”

"Layla" Corvin repeated the name slowly,

Tasting it like an unfamiliar word

"She's lived in the presidential residence since she was twelve." Marcus added

Corvin turned halfway toward him, his expression unreadable.

Twelve? That long? How had he never seen her?

Then again... he rarely paid attention to the palace staff. Their names, their stories, it was all background noise. Even Julian, his own brother…he hardly knew what he was up to most days. He'd always been too caught up in his own world.

But now? Now she was part of it.

He glanced back at the window. Julian's hand rested lightly on her shoulder as he

pointed at the book. Layla laughed softly again

The sound made Corvin’s fingers clench inside his pockets.

"And her relationship with Julian?" he asked, his voice suddenly sharp.

Marcus hesitated "They have been close since childhood, more like best friends”

"Best friends" Corvin murmured, as if the phrase itself offended him.

Marcus added "Yes, Mr. President"

Silence fell again.

Corvin’s gaze darkened as he watched them, his fingers flexed in his pocket

Then quiet, but certain, he said “I want her”

The words landed so suddenly, so calmly, that for a moment Marcus thought he had misheard.

He turned to the president "Sir?"

Corvin's cold eyes flicked toward him. Then, he turned and walked away silently

Marcus stood frozen in place, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

*

*

*

LAYLA

She pushed the food trolley carefully through the long hallway, the silver trays rattling faintly as she passed under the quiet gaze of the palace guards.Her hands gripped the handle tightly.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

Just minutes ago, she had been washing dishes in the kitchen when Miss Evelyn, the head maid, had suddenly ordered her to serve food to the president's quarters.

Layla's heart had skipped.

That wasn't her duty. She had never been assigned anywhere near the president's wing, let alone asked to deliver anything directly.

She had tried to ask why, but Miss Evelyn didn't answer. Just walked away.

Now, as she neared the grand, double doors of the president's private room, her pulse quickened. Was this about the accident in the garden? Was he going to reprimand her? Punish her?

No, she tried to reassure herself. He wouldn't bother with something so trivial. He probably doesn't even remember it.

But the tightening in her chest didn't ease.

A tall guard in black, with an earpiece clipped to his collar, stepped forward and spoke curtly "This way, Miss"

Layla gave a quiet nod and followed his gesture. The guard opened the door.

She stepped into the room, pushing the trolley cautiously. Before she could admire the opulence of the room, the door shut behind her.

Silence.

Her eyes darted around.

This wasn’t like any room in the palace she had ever seen. The ceilings were vaulted, the curtains thick. The bed at the far end of the room was massive, dressed in deep navy sheets. To the right, tall windows let in the last of the evening light.

Her footsteps were careful on the floor.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

Good. Maybe she could leave the food on the table and….

Her eyes caught on something. In the corner, near the tall windows. A black piano near the window, it was Impossibly elegant.

She took a few small steps toward it, unable to stop her hand from brushing against its polished edge.

“Do you know how to play the piano?” Came the cold voice from behind

Layla flinched and turned quickly, bowing her head. “Mr.President” she called out in panic

"I asked a question” His tone wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make the space feel smaller.

She kept her head bowed, fists tight at her sides “No, Mr president” she said, softer this time.

Her voice was delicate..almost melodic. He noticed that. He wanted to hear it again then Corvin stepped closer

"Look at me when you speak."

The words were not angry but they were a command.

Layla's heart pounded faster.

In the palace, staff were trained not to meet the president's eyes. But Layla obeyed

Her gaze lifted slowly, starting with the collar of his robe, then his throat, until finally his eyes.

She inhaled sharply.

He was standing too close. Dressed in a deep navy robe, drops of water clung to his dark hair, some sliding down the line of his jaw. His silver grey eyes were as cold and cutting as she remembered. He wasn’t just tall, he was intimidating.

And the way he looked at her wasn’t neutral. It was intent

She dropped her gaze immediately “I’m sorry, Mr. President. I may have come at the wrong time”

“No,” he said “You didn’t”

He closed the small distance between them.

Layla’s instincts screamed. She backed away slightly, her hands brushing against the food tray as she glanced up.

He studied her without apology as if filling every detail away for later

“Layla right?” He said

Her breath hitched. He knows my name!!

She hadn't expected that

"Yes, Mr. President" she replied.

Corvin didn't respond immediately. His gaze swept over her again. from her golden hair tied back loosely, to the way she clutched the fabric of her dress. Everything about her looked delicate.

Nervous. But not entirely afraid.

She intrigued him more than he liked to admit and his desire for her had only deepened.

Layla shifted under his gaze, her discomfort growing. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

She was here to serve a meal not to be stared at like this. Not to be…

Suddenly, he leaned down and brushed his lips near her ear.

She stiffened instantly.

“Mr. President” she said, stepping back quickly “I have delivered your food. I would like to return to the kitchen.”

She turned, already stepping away. But before she could reach the door, his voice came again.

"What makes you think you can leave without my permission?"

Layla stopped.

A cold anger stirred inside her.

She turned slowly, forcing a polite smile “I would like to return to my duties, Mr. president”

Corvin scoffed. That fake smile..he hated it. She smiled so warmly for others.

But for him? She dared to smile like that?

He moved forward and before she could take another step..his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his chest.

Layla froze in shock.

“Let go” she said quietly. Still polite but there was steel in her voice now.

He didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in again. This time, closer. His breath was warm against her ear.

“Why pretend,” he said softly “when you know exactly what you’re here for?”

Layla pulled back just enough to look up at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about” she said, her voice shaking slightly "I only came to serve your food. Nothing else"

He smirked and this time, she saw it.

Panic bloomed in her chest.

"Let go," she said again, more firmly. Her hand pressed against his chest. He didn't move.

Her voice rose "I said, let go, Mr. President."

He didn't listen.

Instead, he claimed her lips fiercely.

Layla struggled immediately, her hands pushing at his chest, shoving, striking but he was too strong.

Until her knee shot up hard in between his leg. Right where it hurt the most.

Corvin broke away with a sharp growl of pain, his body folding as he staggered back.

She didn't wait.