Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ROSE
The egg wrap tastes like cardboard in my mouth as I watch Caspian feed the goldfish, his movements smooth and graceful.
My mind is elsewhere, lingering on the fact that I woke up to breakfast already made and a kitchen that sparkled like something out of a home magazine. Daniel never did these things, not once in our five years of marriage, and I hate how grateful I feel for basic consideration from a machine.
I take another bite, the eggs and cheese slightly too perfect, like everything Caspian makes.
The coffee beside me is still steaming, exactly the right shade of caramel from the precise amount of cream he’s learned I prefer.
Every morning since he arrived has been a dream.
It’s incredible to wake up to the smell of breakfast and last night’s dishes already washed.
“Are you enjoying your breakfast, Mrs. Bennet?” Caspian asks without turning, somehow sensing my gaze on him.
“Yes,” I say, swallowing hastily. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Perfect. Like his posture as he carefully measures fish food pellets into the aquarium. Like the way he arranged the fruit beside my egg wrap in a neat crescent.
Daniel had left for work without so much as a goodbye.
The sound of the front door closing this morning made the tension in my body release. I didn’t know how stressed I’ve felt in his presence.
These days, I can hardly stand being in the same room as him. The mechanical thrusting of last night still making me feel hollow and used.
Caspian reaches up to close the fish food container, the movement causing his uniform sleeve to ride up slightly. Strange markings peek out from beneath the fabric—dark lines and curves that look like writing, but in no language I recognize.
Tattoos? On a robot? I lean forward without thinking, curiosity piqued.
“What are those markings on your arm?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Caspian turns, his eyes finding mine immediately. “They’re part of my external design, Mrs. Bennet. Aesthetic elements meant to simulate individuality.”
“They look like writing,” I say.
“In a sense, they are,” he replies, rolling up his sleeve slightly, revealing more of the intricate pattern. “Each XyloTech model has unique identifier markings. Mine happen to resemble an ancient script.”
I stare at the lines and squiggles that wind around his forearm.
They’re beautiful in a strange, alien way.
His tattoos look like something you’d find in a science fiction movie.
As he moves to place the fish food on a high shelf, his uniform stretches across his back, outlining muscles that ripple and flex beneath the fabric.
I’ve never really looked at him before—I mean, really looked.
His body is perfectly proportioned, with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. His movements are fluid, nothing like the jerky robots in old movies. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was human. A very attractive human.
He turns suddenly and catches me staring at him. I drop my eyes immediately to my plate, heat flooding my cheeks. My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He’s a machine. A robot. No different than the toaster or the vacuum cleaner.
Except the toaster doesn’t have warm brown eyes flecked with gold. The vacuum doesn’t move with the grace of a dancer. And neither of them makes my pulse race when they look at me like that.
I shake my head, disgusted with myself, and reach for my phone. I need a distraction. The news feed scrolls by—another political scandal, a celebrity divorce, rising tensions somewhere across the ocean.
None of the news distracts me from my inappropriate thoughts.
“Are you finished with your breakfast, Mrs. Bennet?” Caspian’s voice, closer now, startles me.
I nod, pushing away my half-eaten wrap. “Yes, I’m done.”
I stand and gather my plate and mug, carrying them to the sink. As I turn on the water, Caspian suddenly appears beside me, his presence like a wall of heat.
“Allow me,” he says, his fingers brushing against mine as he gently takes the dish from my hands. “You don’t need to worry about these.”
“I can wash my own dishes,” I protest weakly, even as he nudges me aside with a slight pressure of his hip against mine.
“I know you can, Mrs. Bennet,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower register. “But it’s my function to care for your needs.”
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. There’s something in his gaze—something hungry that makes my stomach tighten and my thighs clench involuntarily. Then I remember what he is, and a nervous laugh escapes me.
“Right,” I say, stepping back. “I keep forgetting you’re a robot.”
His hands move efficiently under the running water, soap bubbling between his fingers. Those fingers that look so human, with perfectly formed nails and knuckles and fine dark hairs on the back of his hands.
“Yes, all you need to do is relax, Mrs. Bennet.”
“Life has gotten a lot easier with you around,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I don’t know how we managed before.”
Caspian looks up from the sink, water dripping from his hands, and smiles. It transforms his face from handsome to breathtaking. His eyes glitter in the morning light, something dancing behind them that looks too much like consciousness for comfort.
“I’m pleased to hear that, Mrs. Bennet,” he says, his voice like honey. “I find deep satisfaction in taking care of you. In anticipating your needs before you even realize you have them.”
My heart skips a beat at the double meaning. I’ve got to be imagining things. The way he says ‘taking care of you’ sounds intimate and personal. He doesn’t sound like a machine discussing the day casually.
“I should get to work,” I say, needing distance from whatever is happening in this kitchen. “I have a deadline tomorrow.”
I turn away, but his voice follows me.
“Have a productive day, Mrs. Bennet. I’ll be here, waiting for you, attending to everything in your absence,” he says as I feel his gaze on my back. “I’m always here for you. For anything you might need.”
A shiver runs down my spine despite the warmth of the kitchen. His words sound a little too promising and intense. I hurry toward my office without looking back, but the weight of his gaze follows me down the hallway.
As I sit at my desk and open my laptop, I try to focus on the article I need to write. But my mind keeps returning to Caspian’s strange tattoos, his perfectly muscled body, and those eyes that seem to see right through me.
I press my thighs together, trying to ignore the unwelcome heat building between them.
It’s wrong to feel this way about a machine.
But as I stare blankly at my screen, I can’t help wondering if Caspian is watching me even now, analyzing my breathing, monitoring my heart rate, measuring the heat of my skin.
But what’s worse is that I want him to be monitoring me.
It’s nearly midnight, and Daniel still isn’t home. I realize with a start that I no longer care. His late nights have become so routine that his absence feels more natural than his presence.
I stretch my arms above my head, wincing as my spine cracks after hours hunched over the keyboard.
Two thousand more words to go, and my brain feels like soggy bread.
The article on sustainable urban planning veers into a rant about self-centered men who take and take without giving anything in return. Not exactly what my editor asked for.
The soft glow of my desk lamp creates a small circle of light in the darkness of the spare room. Rain patters against the window, calming my soul. I’ve gotten used to these nights—me, my laptop, and the hollow echo of a marriage that exists only on paper.
A sudden clattering sound from down the hall jerks me from my thoughts. I freeze, fingers hovering above the keyboard. The house is supposed to be empty except for me and Caspian. But he usually moves carefully and silently, never disturbing me. For him to be loud is unreal.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice sounding thin in the quiet house.
No response. Just the persistent drumming of rain against the windows.
I push back from my desk, the old chair squeaking in protest. The sound scrapes against my already frayed nerves. I shouldn’t be scared. Besides, I have Caspian, the world’s most advanced security system in human form.
My bare feet make no sound on the hardwood floor as I walk down the dark hallway—a sliver of light spills from beneath Daniel’s office door. I hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob. Daniel usually keeps his office locked.
I turn the doorknob and the door swings open at my touch, revealing Caspian kneeling on the floor, gathering papers from a toppled box. His head snaps up when I enter, eyes widening slightly—an expression almost like guilt flickering across his perfect features.
“Mrs. Bennet,” he says, straightening immediately. “I apologize for disturbing you. I was dusting Mr. Bennet’s office and accidentally knocked over these files.”
Something about his explanation seems off. Was he lying? He’s a freaking machine, though.
But suddenly, my eyes turn to Daniel’s computer, which is on and unlocked. It’s usually locked because of Daniel’s obsessive nature. Yet there it sits, displayed bright in the dim room, a message notification blinking in the bottom right corner.
“Is that a message?” I ask, quickly walking towards his desk.
Caspian steps to the side to let me through. “Yes, it appears to be synced to his phone. I was about to shut it down.”
The message notification catches my eye, and the preview of it makes my stomach twist in disgust:
“Can’t wait to feel you inside me again tomorrow. Same time?”
My legs carry me forward on autopilot, my heart dropping. I sink into Daniel’s chair, grabbing the mouse immediately to read the rest of the messages.