Ten
Sales Docket Number 12574
Six years earlier…
After checking the coast is clear for the third time, I dash for the corridor where the ‘help’s’ rooms are located. I broke protocol for a late-night snack, still hungry since the meal I shared with one of Achim’s newest staff members saw her gobbling down the entire dish without coming up for air. I barely got in a spoonful, and my hunger was too apparent to ignore.
I snuck into the butler’s pantry for a chunk of bread. I left with my virginity no longer intact.
That isn’t something I ever anticipated to occur from breaking the rules.
Well, not in a joyous way.
In all honesty, I should be sickened with myself. I couldn’t see the man’s face I gave my virginity to, and he thought I was someone else, but it still felt magical. I don’t know if it was the dark surrounding us, or the way his attention made my pulse thud in my ears, but whatever it was, tonight was the first time I acted on impulses instead of orders.
My family has been servants for the Novaks for several generations—cleaners, cooks, chauffeurs, and gardeners. If a position needed to be filled, a member of my family usually filled it. I’ve been a chambermaid since the age of twelve. For the first four years, I completed my schoolwork between four and six in the morning, and my household chores kept me occupied until nine at night. The hours were exhausting, but the conditions made it bearable. I had my own room, was served three good meals a day, and was given all my school supplies and clothing free of charge.
Things changed when Mr. and Mrs. Novak’s eldest son requested India Dvorák’s hand in marriage. India didn’t want to leave her family’s estate in Mikulov until after the wedding, so Achim went to her.
He couldn’t do that without bringing members of his team with him—myself included.
My schedule has been starkly contradicting here. I’m expected to work from sunup to sundown, my school hours no longer exist, and I have to share a dorm-like room with another five women.
The only good that came from the change was anonymity in numbers. Achim doesn’t choose his ‘help’ merely on acceptability. Their looks always enter into the equation. I haven’t seen a dark-haired woman near him in years. It’s always the same petrified, blue-eyed, blonde-haired women.
His preferred choice.
As I round the corner partway down the hall, I bump into someone coming from the other end. Instinctively, I drop my eyes to my shoeless feet before muttering out an apology about not looking where I was going. Even if our collision wasn’t my fault, I’m expected to take blame for it.
A scratch impinges my throat when I absorb the expensive silk material draped over the person in front of me. They’re not the satin sleeping pants I strive to ignore when a visitor pops into my room every night for the past three months. It’s the material of a nightgown—aregalnightgown.
“Ms. Dvorák, is there anything I can help you with?” India’s demands are the sole reason my days are so long now. Her needs are even more exhausting than her husband-to-be’s. “Perhaps I can bring a nightcap to your room?”
I can’t have her going to the pantry. If that happens, I’m dead. It’s clear the man I just slept with thought I was India. He didn’t directly mention her name, but he referenced parts of her life I can’t brush-off as being coincidental.
His disclosure occurred to late into our exchange for me to respond to it. It was at the end, right before I imploded with an array of emotions I’ve never experienced before. Talking was above me. I couldn’t even refuse his request for us to meet again tomorrow night when all was said and done. That’s how scuttled my brain was and still is.
Furthermore, who’s to say he won’t kill me the instant he realizes he fucked the help. Achim has a fondness for sexually cavorting with the female members of his staff, but not many other men are like him—thank God. They’d never lower their pigheadedness enough to ask a member of their staff to suck them off since their fiancées refuse to.
When India remains quiet, I gingerly lift my head. Although she’s standing directly in front of me, her focus isn’t on me. It’s on someone behind me. I don’t need to peer over my shoulder to know who she’s staring at. I can smell his aftershave from here. It’s also embedded in both my dowdy nightclothes, recently washed hair, and the air, and I’m not going to mention the deep grumble of his British accent when he wishes his ‘Duchess’ goodnight. His tone is super flat and low as if worried I’ll expose their secret.
They have nothing to be worried about. I’ll keep their secret as long as I plan to hold mine. It may be the only way I’ll stay alive.
Seconds after the clomping of boots sounds through my ears, India lowers her eyes to mine. They’re not kind. That’s not unusual. They areneverkind. “Come with me.” When my lips twitch, preparing to respond with any excuse I can find, she snaps out, “I wasn’t asking.”
My knees knock the further we walk down the isolated corridors. I’ve been down these hallways before. It never ended well. This is the men’s side of the residence, and more often than not, the rooms are brimming with monsters whose morals are lower than Achim’s.
“Back so soon? I shouldn’t be surprised.” A man with golden blonde hair, a gaunt face, and a sneer oddly familiar stops talking when he spots two shadows entering his room. “Who is this?” he asks, peering at me, somewhat amused.
The humor on his face doubles when India replies, “She’s the key to your kingdom.” Her smile is so evil, I don’t see the dark creeping up on me until I’m struck across the temple and knocked out.
* * *
When I come to, I’m bound to a chair, a hessian bag is shoved over my head, and I’m gagged. Although my temples are thumping, and the conditions are poor, I can determine I’m in a room with approximately three or four people. One is more familiar than the rest. I’ll never forget his scent, let alone the comfort he gave me in the dark. The memories will keep me warm even while recalling how he has his gun pointed at my chest.
I can feel his torment, smell it slicking on his skin, but at the end of the day, we both know he’ll pull back the trigger.
I’m the help.
