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I am so humiliated.
“You’re not much of a talker, aren’t you?” the Penmayne boy remarks, still without a word from me. “You must be the new maid family Mother has brought on board. My name’s August. August Penmayne.”
I nod again.
Seen and not heard.
“And what is your name?” he asks. “I’m sure you can speak that, at the very least.”
“Emma. Emma Tucker.”
“And that’s your mother, right?”
“Yes. Her name’s Natalie.”
Why am I speaking like an idiot?
“Well, Emma Tucker, I am sure I’ll be seeing you around,” the boy says with a soft rise at the corners of his lips. “Welcome to the Penmayne mansion. Welcome to this crazy place I call home.”
And then he flips around and walks away.
And I let out a long sigh once he’s out of sight.
Holy crap.
The boy’s so effortlessly charismatic and cool and smooth and good-looking and just... everything. It is no wonder he’s a Penmayne, being like that - they’re gifted with unlimited moneyandincredible looks.
Yeah, that boy is from a totally different world to me.
And I just tripped and fell right in front of him like a total freaking doofus of the highest order.
Mom is at the far end of the hallway now. She stops and spins back towards me. I’m so, so incredibly grateful she didn’t see any of that little interaction with August Penmayne. She waves at me to hurry up. I put my head down and wheel my annoyingly heavy bag as fast as I can toward her.
Seen and not heard.
Well, I’ve screwed up that rule already, and it’s not even been five minutes.
3
EMMA
There is no time for us to rest - no day set aside for us to take the time to settle into our new home at the maid’s quarters of this big estate. Instead, we are put straight to work, just as Alda Penmayne commanded us to do outside the mansion.
I hunch over the toilet I’ve been ordered by Mom to clean, resisting the urge to retch. I clutch the cleaning brush in one hand and shut my eyes and dream of being far, far away from here. Literallyanywherebut this nasty-ass toilet in this big old mansion.
At least I’m wearing gloves - that’s a major win when it comes to scrubbing down restrooms, trust me. You’d be surprised at how many employers don’t even supply that basic kind of equipment to their staff.
Anything to help Mom with her tasks.
I stand up and prop myself against the restroom wall. I need a breather before I dare shove my head down into that bowl again.
This is exactly what I want to be doing today.Not.
As I suck in a deep breath, I catch myself in the mirror. My hazel eyes stare back at me. My chestnut-brown hair which usually hangs in loose waves down over my shoulders is currently tied up in full-on practicalmaid mode. I’m a spitting image of my mom in those old photos when she was my age at fifteen, back when she had to clean dirty restrooms as well.
I glance back at the toilet and remember what Mom told me this morning at the front gates of the Penmayne mansion. This is our lot in life, apparently. Like mother, like daughter. We look alike, and we share the exact same fate.
Well, I want something more...
