Excerpt;
Overconfident already?" Shelly questioned.
"It's a shame you act as if you've already assessed my man's potential. Keep in mind that I'm the one with the authority to give orders here, Penny. So, you're fired."
CHAPTER THREE
As I returned to Miss Gilet, a knot formed in my stomach. I was nervous about her reaction.
"Ma'am," I began, my voice wavering slightly.
"I took the cup up to the boss."
Before I could continue, her incredulous tone cut through the air, making me flinch inwardly.
"So you left the cup for him to clear?"
She questioned, and her disappointment was evident. In that moment, I felt a surge of frustration and helplessness.Despite my best intentions, it seemed like nothing I did was ever quite right. With a heavy sigh, I tried to explain.
"In all honesty, what could I have done in that situation?"
The weight of their indifference hung in the air, and I knew I had to share my findings with her, even if it meant facing her disapproval.
"Go up now, Erica. What are you waiting for? Do I need to instruct you every single time?"
Miss Gilet's words pierced through me, her tone gentle yet laced with genuine frustration.
With a heavy heart, I began to ascend the stairs, feeling a pang of upset at her lack of patience. Why didn't she give me the chance to explain myself?
The feeling of being misunderstood gnawed at me, adding to the weight of the situation.
As I climbed the steps, each one felt heavier than the last, a physical manifestation of the emotional burden I carried.
Reaching the door, I hesitated for a moment before pushing it open, the weight of Miss Gilet's words still echoing in my mind.
"Oh yes, I can call her Gilet now."
I muttered to myself bitterly.
The formality of our relationship seemed insignificant in that moment of frustration.
"I'm too pissed," I continued inwardly, allowing myself the small rebellion of using her first name in my thoughts.
"Besides," I reasoned, "it's in my heart; it's not like she'll hear me."Yet, even as I silently vented, the ache of unspoken words lingered within me.
Reaching the door, I took a moment to compose myself, steadying my breath before turning the handle.
"Gosh, this door is still open."
I noted silently, feeling a sense of unease creep over me.From where I stood, I could see the entire room laid out before me.
What was the point of knocking when the door was already ajar? With cautious steps, I entered the room, mindful of the mansion's strict code of silence.
As I stepped further into the dimly lit space, I observed the untouched glass on the table and the two figures nestled together, necked on the couch.
It was evident that they were fast asleep.
A pang of frustration and disbelief washed over me. I had rushed up here, only to find them both in such a state.
For a moment, I contemplated turning back and informing Miss Gilet that my attempt to deliver the cup had been futile.
Yet, a sense of duty compelled me to stay to ensure that the task was completed despite the obstacles.
As I turned to leave, a sudden wave of curiosity washed over me, pulling me back towards the mysterious object I had glimpsed earlier. Why couldn't I shake the feeling that it held some significance?
With a sense of determination, I approached it, inching closer and closer, my heart racing with anticipation. But to my dismay, there was nothing there; it was as if the object had vanished into thin air.
Disappointment clouded my thoughts; it seemed luck was not on my side today. Perhaps next time, I mused silently, resigning myself to the mystery.
Just then, a movement caught my eye, and I watched in astonishment as Mr. Stridha's arm shifted slightly.
My mind raced with the realization that they were intertwined, their closeness betraying a level of intimacy that left me feeling unsettled.
What had I been thinking to intrude upon such a private moment? I needed to leave to escape this awkward situation, but before I could act, Mr. Stridha stirred.
As his eyelids fluttered open, I froze, feeling a sense of dread wash over me. With no escape in sight, I could only watch in silence as he glanced first at Miss Shelly, still unconscious atop him, and then back at me, his expression unreadable.
In that moment, I felt utterly helpless, unsure of what to do next as I stood trapped in the awkward tension of the room.
Taking a step back, I positioned myself carefully, desperate to create some distance between us, knowing it was the only action I could take in that moment.
But Mr. Stridha's intense glare remained fixed on me, his eyes boring into mine with a penetrating intensity. I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat as a surge of fear coursed through me.
The urge to flee or even lose control of my bladder threatened to overwhelm me, but I forced myself to maintain composure, paralyzed by the sheer intensity of his gaze while he remained undressed in his own room.
With trembling hands, I gestured towards the wine glass, hoping to draw his attention away from me, but his eyes remained unblinking, unwavering in their scrutiny.
I couldn't decipher his thoughts or intentions, but one thing was clear: he was looking at me, and the weight of that gaze was suffocating.
Finally, I managed to back out of the room, a rush of relief flooding through me as I escaped the oppressive atmosphere within.
But as I stepped into the hallway, a torrent of questions and uncertainties flooded my mind. What had just happened? Would I lose my job over this? Should I apologize, or would that only make things worse?
Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I pushed the urge down, knowing that crying would only compound the problem.
As I pondered my next move, dread settled in the pit of my stomach. What would I tell Miss Gilet about the cup now? What lie could I concoct to explain my failure? Feeling utterly lost and alone, I whispered a desperate prayer for guidance.
"Oh God, help me."
Lost in my thoughts, I remained rooted to the spot on the stairs, unaware of the scrutiny from Miss Gilet and the other girls below.
The possibility of losing my job loomed large in my mind, but I refused to entertain it—failure was not an option, not when my mother's burden rested heavily on my shoulders. The job was my lifeline, the only means to ease the strain of college fees.
However, my introspection was interrupted by the sound of Miss Shelly's bewildered voice. "Go and get the cup, huh?" She questioned, her tone tinged with confusion.
"Erica," I blurted out automatically, noticing her snap her fingers as she emphasized my name, "huh?"
"Or yes, Erica," she added, her words catching me off guard.
"Yes, ma'am," I responded instinctively, my mind still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions.
"Ma'am!" Miss Shelly echoed, her voice taking on a playful tone. "Do I appear that old to you?"
Embarrassment flooded through me as I realized my mistake. "I'm sorry, Miss Shelly," I stammered, scrambling to correct myself. "I meant no disrespect. It's just a force of habit."
As Miss Shelly corrected me, insisting on being addressed as "madam," I felt a pang of discomfort wash over me.
Was it really my place to question her authority? After all, she may not hold the same level of power as the elusive Mr. Stridha, but within the confines of this mansion, she wielded considerable influence as his mistress.
Addressing her with respect seemed only fitting, given my position as a mere maid.
"I'd rather you call me madam," she reiterated, her tone firm yet tinged with a hint of irritation.
Caught off guard by her assertion, I struggled to find my voice, my gaze involuntarily flickering towards Mr. Stridha.
The mere thought of him being aware of the events that had transpired sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a flurry of anxiety within me.
"Erica! You dare ignore me?" Miss Shelly's voice cut through the tense silence, snapping me out of my reverie.
My heart leaped in my chest at her accusation, confusion clouding my thoughts. Did I truly ignore her? The possibility sent a surge of panic coursing through me, leaving me grappling for an explanation to appease her growing frustration.
As Miss Gilet came to my defense, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief wash over me. At least someone was willing to stand up for me in this moment of uncertainty.
Yet, any sense of gratitude was overshadowed by the looming presence of Mr. Stridha beside me, his casual demeanor sending a chill down my spine.
"You tend to overthink things, Erica," he remarked, his words cutting through the air with unsettling ease as he resumed his actions as if nothing had happened.
To be continued.