Chapter Text
The Campbell-Black manor sparkled like something out of a fairy tale, every inch of the sprawling estate glowing under crystal chandeliers and artfully arranged candlelight. Guests in glittering gowns and tailored tuxedos filled the grand ballroom, their laughter rising above the lilting strains of a live string quartet.
Taggie O’Hara weaved her way through the crowd, a silver tray balanced effortlessly on one hand. Her crisp white blouse and neat black trousers marked her as staff, and that was exactly how she preferred it. Blending into the background meant avoiding the scrutiny and assumptions that came with being seen.
She paused by a group of lively partygoers, offering delicate canapés topped with smoked salmon and dill. A polite smile graced her lips as she moved on, already mentally calculating the next area that needed attention.
It wasn’t her first time catering for Rupert Campbell-Black, but every time felt like a test of her patience. Rupert was larger than life, a man whose reputation preceded him at every turn. Charming, incorrigible, and utterly infuriating, he had a knack for drawing attention—and controversy. Taggie had no time for men like him, even if he was impossible to ignore.
“Taggie,” a voice drawled, cutting through the noise.
Her stomach sank. She knew that voice.
Turning slowly, she found Rupert leaning casually against the grand staircase, his champagne glass tilted at a jaunty angle. His dark hair was immaculately combed, and his tuxedo fit him like a second skin. He looked every inch the host of a lavish evening, and his grin was unmistakably directed at her.
“Rupert,” she said, keeping her tone professional. “Is there something you need?”
“Yes,” he said, straightening and taking a step toward her. “You. Five minutes of your time.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “I’m working.”
“I noticed,” he said, glancing pointedly at the tray in her hand. “But surely you can spare a moment for me?”
“I don’t think—”
“Come now, Taggie,” he interrupted, lowering his voice. “This won’t take long. I promise not to bite.”
Her eyes narrowed. She knew better than to get involved in whatever scheme Rupert was hatching, but there was a flicker of sincerity in his expression that gave her pause. With a resigned sigh, she set her tray on a nearby table.
“Five minutes,” she said, her tone firm.
Rupert grinned, triumphant, and motioned for her to follow him.
---
The library was quieter than the rest of the house, its grand double doors muffling the sounds of the party. Taggie stepped inside hesitantly, taking in the towering shelves filled with leather-bound books and the crackling fire that cast flickering shadows across the room.
“What is this about, Rupert?” she asked, turning to face him as he closed the door behind them.
He leaned casually against the nearest bookshelf, his champagne glass still in hand. “I just wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
Taggie frowned. “Me?”
Rupert nodded, stepping closer. “You’re fascinating, you know. Always so calm, so composed. Always disappearing into the background when I think you deserve to be front and center.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not here to be the center of attention, Rupert. I’m here to work.”
“That’s what makes you so intriguing,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You don’t try to dazzle anyone, and yet you do.”
Her cheeks flushed despite herself, and she turned away, busying herself with a nearby bookshelf. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
“Not at all,” he said, his voice closer now.
Before she could respond, there was a loud *click*.
Rupert frowned, trying the door handle. It didn’t budge. He jiggled it again, harder this time, then sighed.
“Well, that’s inconvenient.”
Taggie joined him, testing the door herself. It was well and truly stuck.
“Great,” she muttered, stepping back. “We’re locked in.”
Rupert leaned against the door with a dramatic sigh. “Looks like it’s just you and me, darling.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, folding her arms.
“Come now, Taggie,” he said, flashing her a roguish grin. “Think of it as a chance to get to know me better. Isn’t that every woman’s dream?”
“Not mine,” she said flatly.
---
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Taggie perched on the edge of an armchair, her arms crossed, while Rupert lounged on the opposite side of the room, utterly unbothered.
“Do you ever stop smiling?” she asked at one point, unable to contain her irritation.
“Not when the company’s this good,” he quipped, raising his glass in a mock toast.
Taggie groaned, burying her face in her hands.
But as the fire burned lower and the initial tension between them faded, their conversation softened. Rupert began sharing stories from his youth—some outrageous, some surprisingly poignant. Taggie found herself laughing despite her resolve to remain indifferent.
“You’re not as terrible as I thought,” she admitted grudgingly.
“I’ll take that as high praise,” he said with a wink.
---
At some point, the conversation paused, and silence filled the room once more. Taggie stood by the fire, staring into the flames, when she felt him step closer.
“Taggie,” he said softly.
She turned, startled by the warmth in his expression.
“What?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he said, and before she could respond, he leaned in.
The kiss was gentle, tentative at first, as though he was waiting for her permission. When she didn’t pull away, it deepened, the world around them fading into irrelevance.
When they finally broke apart, Taggie’s heart was pounding. She stared up at him, her breath hitching.
“That,” Rupert said with a crooked grin, “was worth getting locked in for.”
Taggie shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “you’re still here.”
---
The door creaked open moments later, and a flustered butler appeared, apologizing profusely. Rupert, ever the charmer, waved it off with a laugh, his eyes never leaving Taggie’s.
As she stepped back into the bustling hallway, Rupert caught her hand, his thumb brushing her knuckles.
“Don’t disappear on me again,” he murmured.
Taggie hesitated, then nodded. “We’ll see.”
His grin widened, and as she walked away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the night was only the beginning of something far more complicated—and far more interesting.
---
Taggie returned to the chaos of the party, her cheeks still warm and her thoughts spinning. She avoided the bustling crowd as best she could, busying herself with the practical tasks that grounded her: replenishing trays, ensuring glasses were full, and avoiding any situation that might lead her back into Rupert Campbell-Black’s orbit.
But Rupert wasn’t the kind of man to let things lie.
From across the room, she felt his gaze like a physical pull. He was back to hosting, his charm lighting up every conversation, his laugh echoing above the din. But every now and then, his eyes found hers, and the spark between them reignited, as undeniable as it was unwelcome.
Taggie ducked into the kitchen, desperate for a moment alone. She leaned against the counter, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks.
“What am I doing?” she muttered to herself.
“Running away, I’d say,” came a familiar voice from the doorway.
Taggie whipped around to find Rupert leaning against the doorframe, his tie now loosened and his smile softer than before. He looked less like the golden host of the evening and more like the man who had kissed her in the library.
“Rupert,” she said, trying for an air of professionalism. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”
“And yet, here I am,” he said, stepping inside.
She folded her arms, glaring at him. “You have guests to entertain.”
“They’re doing fine without me,” he said, leaning casually against the counter. “But you, Taggie—you seem like you could use some company.”
“I’m fine,” she said firmly, though her heart betrayed her by racing at his nearness.
Rupert tilted his head, studying her. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Hide,” he said, his voice quieter now. “From me, from the world. You’re the most fascinating person in the room, and yet you act like you’d rather disappear.”
Taggie’s defenses shot up. “I’m not hiding,” she said, turning away to adjust a tray of glasses. “I’m working. There’s a difference.”
“You’re always working,” Rupert said, moving closer. “But tonight, in that library, you weren’t. For a moment, you were just... *you*. And I liked it.”
Her hands froze on the tray. She didn’t trust herself to look at him. “This is ridiculous. You’re—you’re Rupert Campbell-Black. You flirt with every woman who crosses your path. Why should I be any different?”
“Because you are different,” he said, his voice steady.
She turned then, meeting his gaze. The fire she’d seen earlier was still there, but so was something else—something she hadn’t expected.
Vulnerability.
Taggie shook her head, laughing bitterly. “You don’t even know me.”
“Then let me,” he said, stepping closer until the space between them felt impossibly small.
Her breath hitched. She wanted to push him away, to tell him he was being ridiculous, that whatever spark they’d shared in the library was nothing more than a fleeting moment. But the way he was looking at her made her question everything.
“You’re impossible,” she whispered.
“And yet,” he murmured, his hand brushing hers, “you’re still here.”
---
The kitchen door swung open suddenly, and Taggie jumped back as one of her colleagues entered, arms laden with fresh trays. Rupert, ever unruffled, flashed his signature grin and stepped aside.
“I should get back to work,” Taggie said quickly, reaching for a tray.
Rupert caught her wrist gently, stopping her. “This isn’t over, Taggie,” he said softly.
She hesitated, then pulled her hand free, her heart pounding as she carried the tray back into the fray.
---
Over the following days, Rupert was true to his word.
Flowers began arriving at her modest flat—gorgeous arrangements of roses and lilies, each accompanied by a handwritten note in Rupert’s bold scrawl.
For the woman who doesn’t want to be noticed but deserves to be.
—Rupert
Taggie rolled her eyes and shoved the notes in a drawer, but she didn’t throw the flowers away.
Then came the invitations.
Dinner. Drinks. A walk through the park. Rupert’s persistence was unrelenting, but it wasn’t obnoxious. He seemed to know just when to pull back, giving her space even as he made it clear he wasn’t giving up.
Taggie tried to ignore him, to convince herself that her life didn’t have room for a man like Rupert Campbell-Black. But the truth was, she couldn’t stop thinking about him—about the way he’d looked at her in the library, about the unexpected tenderness in his kiss.
---
When she finally agreed to meet him, it was at a quiet café on the edge of town. Rupert was already there when she arrived, his usual polished appearance softened by a simple sweater and jeans.
He stood when he saw her, his smile brighter than the sun streaming through the window. “Taggie.”
She sat down across from him, her heart fluttering despite herself. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she warned.
“Of course not,” he said, though his grin suggested otherwise.
The conversation was easy, flowing like it had in the library. Rupert was charming, yes, but he was also disarmingly honest, peeling back the layers of his bravado to reveal a man who was far more complex than she’d imagined.
By the time they parted ways, Taggie wasn’t sure what she was feeling. But as Rupert walked her to her car and kissed her cheek—a simple, lingering gesture that left her breathless—she realized one thing for certain:
Rupert Campbell-Black was going to be a very difficult man to forget.