"Let's talk about our marriage," Desmond said seriously.
Though she had looked forward to this conversation, she suddenly felt jittery. Imagine talking about your marriage to and with someone you only met yesterday.
"Come over here."
Desmond invited her, seeing how she hesitated at the door. She slowly approached the table. He gestured for her to sit in the only chair left at the table.
"I should have brought a lawyer at this point, but I trust you and I will have an understanding and never need to involve the law. Is that correct, Miss Denis?"
"Yes."
She replied, not clear on what he said.
"Good. Let's proceed," he said professionally.
"This is the contract."
He picked up the papers he was reading earlier and dropped them in front of her.
"Go through them and tell me what you think."
Sam looked down at the papers and felt like throwing up from panic. She couldn't read a thing!
"Why don't you just summarise everything for me? I'm sure you have important things to do."
This was important to him. It was the main reason he returned to Mexico, but she was wasting time.
"Very well then."
He left his side and went round to her side so he could read from the paper if need be.
"Miss Denis, it's a one-year contract."
"I know that part," she said.
"In one year, you must help me convince my grandfather that I am settled down."
"Shouldn't you just settle down for real?"
He cocked his brow in annoyance.
"We are discussing your job here, not what I want with my life. Do you understand?" He bit out.
"Yes."
"Don't interrupt me again. As I was saying, if you fail to convince him in one year, you must add 6 months."
"What if I manage to convince him in six months?"
"Confident much, huh? My grandfather was a difficult man."
"I'm pretty convinced, Mr. Landon. I just need a chat with the old man, and it'll be enough to convince him you are settled."
"You know how that is going to turn out?" She shook her head.
"I'll tell you. Mr. Landon will know what you are up to immediately after you open your mouth. Then he'll have you thrown out of this mansion and then I'll have to come to find you..."
She gaped smilingly at him in pleased shock.
"...and kill you," he finished meanly, wiping the smile from her face.
"Now listen carefully. We are not going to try to convince him with words but actions."
Sam gave him a bland face.
"Do you understand?" He asked.
"What actions?"
"You need to behave like you would with your husband."
"I've never been married," she said innocently.
Desmond sighed in frustration.
"I'm sure you have seen a couple before, Denis. I'm sure there is a couple in your street that walks about holding hands."
She nodded uncertainly. Desmond looked at her doubtfully.
"How do couples behave?" He tested her.
"They walk about holding hands."
Desmond could immediately tell she was messing with him.
"There will be no holding of hands around the streets. Our marriage should stay secret from the public. It's for your good. Now listen quietly."
But Sam had stopped listening. Though she had her eyes glued to his face, she was more interested in his expression than what he was saying. This could be the longest conversation they would ever have because Desmond spoke too little. Right now his forehead creased in seriousness as he explained something to her, glancing at the papers now and then. Sam focused on the way his lips would barely open when he talked. As if he found it boring. His jaw twitched in what looked like frustration. Another feature that contributed to his good looks was his squared jaw. His jet-black hair which he clipped at the nape but left the top out framed his face beautifully. Right now, a tuft of hair had strayed and blocked his right eye. Sam felt an unexplainable urge to get it out of his face for him. Not that it looked bad. His jaw twitched even more. His eyes narrowed in a frown. He looked so intimidating. Sam imagined a man like that as her boyfriend. She'll be his little rabbit. She imagined herself held against that chest...
Bang!
Sam started at the loud rattling of the loaded wooden table. She looked at Desmond in surprise. I looked this time. He was angry.
"You do realize there are many women out there that want this opportunity. If you aren't interested, you can get a free ride home to your daddy."
"But I was listening."
He crossed his arms in front of him.
"What was the last thing I said?"
Sam was lost.
"You were checking me out, young lady.
Sam blushed.
"You're not the kind of woman I like miss Denis. If you fall for the cliche that I'll eventually fall in love with you."
He chuckled in mockery of the idea.
"You only have yourself to blame for the heartbreak. Don't get too ambitious. You don't get more than what is agreed on this contract."
He punched a finger at the papers, then slid them towards her.
"Keep these. Read them carefully and let me know if something doesn't sit well with you."
He turned and walked out, leaving the speechless Sam. Yes, she was staring at him, but who wouldn't be? He was a looker. Because she thought so didn't mean she hoped he fell in love with her. arrogant.
She suddenly remembered she had been trying to get to her room. She leaped out of the seat and ran after him. Luckily, he wasn't out of sight yet.
"Mr. Desmond!" She called out as she hurried as fast as her aching ankle would let her catch up. He stopped and watched her over his shoulder.
"Just so you know," she rushed as she got close enough.
"You are not the kind of man I like either."
Desmond grinned.
"Good. Let's forget you; you were drooling at my face moments ago."
"I wasn't."
Desmond cocked a brow at her.
"Well, maybe I did look at you, but that's because you are good-looking."
Sam blurted out in frustration before realizing she had just told him she found him attractive. Desmond grinned.
"You weren't looking, Miss Denis."
He bent slightly and levelled his face with hers. Sam was instantly caught in his hazel eyes.
"You were drooling. Just like now."
Sam's lips snapped shut. She didn't realize it when they parted. Desmond teasingly flicked her nose, then turned and left her there.
The man already knew he was handsome, and the thought of him always thinking she wanted him infuriated her. When she looked in the direction he had gone, he was already out of sight. Now how was she going to find her room? Sam hurried in his direction, hoping to catch up again, but she couldn't find him. Just how long did she stand there after he had left? As she thought of what next to do, she saw Magdalena passing through another corridor.
"Magret!" She yelled.
Immediately after Magdalena saw her, she hurried to meet her.
"Good evening, mistress," she greeted.
"Magret, right?" Sam inquired cheerfully.
"Magdalena, mistress," the maid corrected.
"Woo! That's a mouthful."
"They call me Maggie for shorts."
"Maggie then."
"Come have dinner in your room," the maid said courteously. Sam followed eagerly.
As they went, they ran into Ann.
"Mistress!" She shrieked and hurried towards them. Maggie hurriedly stood between her and the mistress.
"I found her first Ann. What an incompetent maid. You can't even find the mistress," Maggie teased.
"Well, you found her first... just a minute before I did. Big deal!"
"Yeah, big deal. Look at mistress's cute feet," she cooed and looked at Sam's feet adorably, then turned and glared at Ann.
"Now it is bruised because of an incompetent maid like you."
"Oh shoosh. We both know you are just mad that I took your place." Ann said with a calm smile that had Maggie writhing.
"You bi...!"
"Enough! Hoo! You two!" Sam yelled. "Just take me to my room."
"Yes, mistress!" They chorused, then glared at each other.
"She was talking to me, idiot." Maggie sneered.
"No, idiot. She was talking to me," Ann shot back at her. Magdalena's fist balled.
"Call me that again, Ann!" She threatened.
"Girls! Girls!!" Sam groaned. "Why don't you both take me?"
So, they did, bickering all the way.
Sam ate dinner while the two maids fought over every task. She smiled to herself. She should recommend Fred's house to them since they loved to work so much.
"You clumsy cow!" Maggie lamented. "You spilled milk on the papers!"
Maggie picked up the said papers and began to flap them to get rid of the water. Sam hurriedly snatched the papers from her and checked the damage. It wasn't very wet. A few minutes in the sun would fix it.
"It was an accident. I'm sorry." Ann said remorsefully.
"You are always involved in accidents, Ann. Now you've ruined these documents, Ann."
"It's fine, Maggie. It's just a few drops. We'll just dry them tomorrow."
Sam turned and went back to eating. Seeing her plan fail, Maggie glared at Ann. Ann stuck out her tongue at her. Maggie's eyes narrowed mischievously.
"I am the rightful personal maid to my mistress," she claimed aloud.
"And I am the chosen maid," Ann said sweetly.
"That's because the mistress doesn't know about me yet."
"Tell me then," Sam said.
Her head snapped back to Sam in shock, which looked comical. Maggie was a horrible actress.
"I don't like talking about myself much," she began. Ann rolled her eyes.
"I used to be the personal maid to the mistress when she stayed here."
"Who?"
"My master's aunt. She is very hard to please. Only I could please her." She bragged.
Sam understood her intentions. She wanted to prove herself more worthy than Ann. Sam could never have imagined that people would bicker just to serve her. The feeling was heady. She was enjoying herself.
"How did you do that?" Sam asked. Maggie shrugged.
"I'm just very talented. The Mistress loves to look good. I alone could do her enough."
"So why didn't she take you with her when she was leaving?" Ann quipped. Maggie glared at her.
"You are trying to bait the mistress with your ridiculous makeovers."
"Can you make me look beautiful?" Sam asked interestedly.
Maggie ignored Ann and stared at Sam's face studiously.
"For someone as beautiful as you, that'd be a piece of cake."
"Can you make me beautiful like the women in Desmond's class?"
Maggie chuckled.
"He wouldn't have married you if he thought you weren't."
You have no idea, "Sam thought."
"But if you want him to fall deeper, I can ensure he never takes his eyes off of you," Maggie smirked mischievously.
"When do we start?" Sam asked eagerly.
* * * *
It's the next morning. Maggie combed her hair while Sam was seated in front of her vanity. It had been shampooed and conditioned earlier and now flowed like air. Maggie kept brushing anyway while fussing about how beautiful Sam's hair was. Meanwhile, Ann sulked in the corner. She'd never be able to beat Maggie at these things.
Sam kept smiling at her reflection. Maggie had applied a black liquid to her lashes that made them thicker and longer. She had applied several creams and powders to her face. She had also applied a thin layer of lipstick to her lips.
"Can you put more red on my lips, Maggie?"
"This is just enough," Maggie assured. "We don't want Master to know you are intentionally trying to impress him."
Oh! She was going to impress him. She was going to tease him with her beauty. He would find out just how much he could like women like her, but she wouldn't want him.
The things Maggie applied to her face managed to cover the blue coloration on her cheek from Fred's attack with the plate.
"Done!" Maggie said triumphantly.
Sam hopped out of her seat.
"Bring the shoes, Ann," Ann complied grumpily.
Maggie adorned her feet in the fluffy slippers, then stood up to admire her work. She had made Sam wear a small mustard yellow dress that exposed her thighs. The dress was sleeveless. The back's extra inches drooped to her mid-back. Simple but fierce.
"You look perfect, Mistress. You'll meet the Master in the sitting room downstairs."
Sam strode to the door.
"No, no, no... walk slowly."
Sam nodded, opened the door, and walked out. Ann tried to follow her to make sure she didn't get lost, but Maggie pulled her back.
"Ann…" She whispered. "Did you see all those scars on her back?"
Ann looked at her, perplexed.
"What scars?" Maggie groaned.
"What was I expecting? Just go."
Ann frowned and left.