~CHAPTER 17~
The lady was smoking hot, breathtakingly stunning, with beautiful red hair that was packed into a bun and sharp dark eyes.
Her red-painted sharp fingernails released my arm before moving past me with effortless elegance toward the dining table.
"I expect you to doing your job before I sit," She boomed, quickly waking me from my trance, and I hurriedly ran to the tableside, positioning myself with haste before she took her seat at the left-hand side of the table adjacent to the head seat.
The head and right-hand seats are empty but not only that, They were adorned with very stylish intricate carvings and details, which seemed to be designed for people of importance
Both seats had a different design, setting them apart from the rest of the table.
Ahh, a chillingly cold water was harshly thrown into my face, shocking me. "Are you deaf!" The red-haired lady exclaimed while I blinked rapidly, struggling to clear and open my eyes after the water stung them.
"I said pass me the Osso Buco!" she demanded, her Italian accent thick, as she glared at me with an expectation of immediate obedience.
The Osso... what? I had no freaking clue what that meal was, as I quickly looked at the table like a fool, my eyes darting back and forth, fixed onto the table not knowing which meal to pick.
I wasn't Italian, and the meal sounded like some exotic Italian dish that I had never heard of.
Scanning the vast array of dishes before me. There were at least twenty different types of meals and I knew none of their names.
From the corner of my eyes, I could already see the other guests serving themselves with ease. So why did she want me to serve her in the first place? When the other guests seemed to know how to serve themselves.
A very strong, heavy cup hit me hard on the head, and I winced in pain, instinctively holding the spot.
Miss Red, as I had mentally dubbed her, glared at me with a look of disdain and annoyance, clearly unhappy with the time I was wasting. "Foolish," she spat before opening one of the pots, making my stomach growl, and serving herself like a princess, making me want to strangle her.
What a heartless bitch; I seethed inwardly, looking at her, waiting for her to dismiss me or give me some indication of what to do next.
Or should I just leave ~NAH~ that would lead to my dismissal, not the one I was hoping for but the one that would dismiss me from life.
I knew better than to take the initiative and leave without Her Majesty's permission -That would be suicide. So I remained rooted to the spot, seething with frustration and anger as I watched her savor her meal with evident relish.
Hope she chokes on her food, it was a petty thought. Yeah, but not after the bump she had decorated on my skull that throbbed in time with my racing heart, Which was a painful reminder of her callous disregard for my well-being as I watched her eat like a queen.
I so wanted to tell her to shove her precious Osso Buco up her petty ass and find a place to die but I knew better. One wrong move, and I'd be facing the wrath of my tormenter.
"Red Wine," she curtly commanded, pausing between bites of her Osso Buco. I hastily walked towards the table, scanning the many wine bottles in position at different places on display.
All of them were red, so I randomly picked one up, hoping it was the correct choice. Cautiously approaching Miss Red, trying not to make any sudden movements that might provoke her further, I carefully poured the wine into her glass, my hand trembling slightly as I did so.
Hoping for once in my miserable life, something would go right. But guess what? As fate would have it, my life never seemed to follow that script. And, in this instance, my error was glaringly obvious.
The wine flowing from the bottle was not the rich, bold red I had expected but a clear white. Plain white. A cold, chilling sweat trickled down my spine while my heart ran off to hide -Traitor-. Miss Red's narrowed eyes snapped towards me, venomous.
"What..Is..This?" she hissed, gazing at the offending white wine in her glass. I swallowed hard, My throat constricting with fear before stammering. "Wine." Oh Lord, my voice was so small and hard to hear. But the witch, Miss Red, glared hard at me.
"What type of wine did I SPECIFICALLY order you to bring?" She spat, emphasizing the "specifically" with so much venom like she was the inventor of the term.
I didn't dare answer, knowing that anything I say would only infuriate her further. But my silence only enraged her more as she flung the cup towards me in a deadly motion, but hey, She did this trick once, and I was ready for her this time. I quickly dodged to the side, avoiding the cup barely.
Ohh that annoyed her even more, and she picked up a nearby wine bottle, her eyes flashing with death. She raised the bottle to strike me dead but just as all hope seemed lost, a voice boomed from across the room.
"Enough!" All eyes scoped sideways and Mine followed their gaze to see a man dressed in a perfectly tailored suit rising from his seat. His silver-colored hair was styled neatly.
Although his appearance looked youthful and polished, he still looked to be in his 40s with a sophisticated demeanor.
Our eyes met, and a sense of familiarity, perhaps recognition that I couldn't quite place. Where had I seen him before? The feeling nagged at me, but I couldn't pinpoint the memory.
"Stay out of this, Antonio," Miss Red hissed, standing up from her seat too. OK; this looked like a war was about to happen.
The air vibrated with tension, her high heels clicking on the floor as she marched towards me.
Throwing a hot slap to my face, sending my head flying to the side. The force was not expected from someone like her, it was So hard and painful, making me almost lose my balance.
"I said enough, Adelasia," Mr. Antonio quickly intervened, grasping the witch's hand preventing another slap. Not gonna lie, she was damned strong; my cheeks were still throbbing witnesses to her fury.
"Cosa diavolo è il tuo problema? Stiamo mangiando, trova un altro posto per fare la tua drammatizzazione, non qui," (What the devil is your problem? We are eating, find another place to do your drama, not here.") Mr. Antonio tone was scolding.
But ohh, come on, not the Italian again! I couldn't understand a thing, and my messed up mind began to wander to dark places. What if they were planning my demise?
Mr. Antonio continued speaking, his words lost on me, watching as Adelasia harshly pulled her arm from his grip.
She stormed out of the dining hall, banging the doors shut behind her, but not before she shot me a withering glare, a parting gift that made my skin crawl.
The sound of scraping seats filled the room as guests rose from their seats.
Their faces were set nonchalant like they didn't care what went on in the room. They filed out of the hall, some murmuring conversations together.
The door creaked shut, as the last departed, leaving an unsettling silence falling over the hall. I stood frozen, willing the door to reopen and admit a distraction from this impending confrontation.
But I was not so fortunate as Mr. Antonio, who stood watching me with his sharp blue eyes opened his mouth, expecting to hear a biting insult or scathing rebuke, "Sorry for that, carry on your job." His words completely took me off guard, and he turned, leaving me standing there surprised.
There's still hope for humanity.