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Maryne shrugs her shoulders. “What can I say? We like to be on the ball here. Now, I don’t have a uniform your size but I’ll get some ordered. Until then,” she says with a pause, looking up and down my body with a frown, “this will have to do.”
I don’t know whether to be offended or not so I put it to the back of my mind and follow her as she starts leading me through the staff quarters, going over the same introduction that mom had gone through with Harrison. Though I don’t know why she bothers, I know where I am and what’s going on. This is my third week here.
“Okay,” she says, twenty minutes later. “I don’t have a list of jobs set out for you just yet but for now, you can start by taking a few things off your mother’s list. She’s been working around the clock making sure everything is perfect. She’s worth her weight in gold.”
“She is,” I smile, proud of mom for doing so well in a job that she seems to really be enjoying.
“Why don’t you start with the formal dining area?” she questions. “The room needs to be cleaned, swept, mopped, and dusted. Charles is having a business dinner there tomorrow evening so it needs to be in pristine condition. I’ll choose the table settings while you’re cleaning and once you’ve finished that, you can set the table and have it ready to go.”
I nod, my eyes wide as I realize just how much preparation goes into one dinner, and that’s not even talking about the menu or entertainment. Her job must be ridiculously busy. It’s no wonder she hasn’t had time to have kids of her own.
Wanting to impress her, I scurry away and find everything I need to get started. I make my way into the formal dining room and look around. The room is huge, but I can handle it. It’s not like it’s littered with crap. It’s already in pristine order like the rest of the house but things get missed and I’m determined to make sure that it’s absolutely perfect.
I walk around the massive dining table and put each of the chairs up so I can get right under the table as I clean. I get halfway through before realizing that something is missing. I pull my phone out of my pocket and press play on my music.
Delacey fills my ears with ‘Cruel Intentions’ and I can’t help but get lost in the music as I get back to work. I dance and move while gliding the broom along the marble floor. This really isn’t so bad, in fact, it’s oddly soothing. After my shitty day, I feel like I finally have control. I feel like some part of my life is dictated by me and me alone and no one can take this away from me. This is me finally stepping out and making something of myself, setting up a future that I can be proud of.
I finish sweeping and get halfway through mopping when footsteps sound on the marble floor behind me. I whip around to find Colton striding through the dining room, his eyes on me, no doubt having just seen me dancing.
He walks straight over the wet floors, smirking and knowing just how much it would be getting under my skin. Maybe I set my expectations too high. Colton is going to make this hell. How could I have not even considered that before begging for this?
His eyes rake up and down my body and despite knowing that I look damn cute, he makes me feel like trash. His lips pull up in a disgusted sneer and although it’s not the first time he’s looked at me like this, it’s the first time he’s actually truly made me feel this way. A scoff comes tearing out of him. “I guess you’re nothing but the help after all.”
“What do you want?” I demand. “You’re ruining the floors. I’m going to have to start again.”
He steps in closer, so close that I can feel the heat coming off his body, making my fingers itch to touch him. “Stay away from my friends.”
I raise my chin and grin up at him, knowing just how much my cockiness irritates him. “What’s the matter, Carrington? Jealous I let Charlie get a little too close? He didn’t even have to try, unlike you who can’t seem to stay away.”
“You fucking wish,” he snaps. “You acted like a whore and you got what was coming your way.”
“You mean a mind-blowing fuck-fest with your best friend or the whole school assaulting me? Come on, Colton, don’t tell me you’re one of those arrogant assholes who blame the victim. ‘She asked for it.’ ‘She wanted it.’ ‘If her skirt wasn’t so short …’”
