Aston’s Maid

Five

I woke up to the relentless buzz of my phone. Harlow’s name flashed on the screen which was enough to get rid of every drop of sleep from my system. Without thinking I answered the call.

“Hello?” I said, my voice groggy.

“Harmony!” My sister shrieked, jolting every cell in my body awake. “Where are you?! Where have you been?! Are you alive?! Are you safe?!”

“Harlow, stop yelling. Of course I’m alive, I’m talking to you, aren’t I? And I’m perfectly fine,” I said. There was no way I was telling her where I was and definitely not telling her that I spent the night at the Diamandis’, albeit against my will. I still didn’t know how it happened.

“Where were you? You didn’t come home. Do you know worried I’ve been? I didn’t want to but I had no choice but to call Mom and Dad and tell them about you and they’re worried sick, do you have any idea what you put us through? How can you be so selfish?!” She yelled and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Why did she always have to be so dramatic?

“I spent the night at a friend’s and you just woke me up from a really nice dream.” I yawned. “And what is wrong with you? Why did you have to scare Mom and Dad? I’m an adult, Harlow. I can take care of myself.”

“Well I wouldn’t have worried if you hadn’t gone to a stranger’s house. You didn’t even send me your location. And then when I’m trying to call you, you’re not answering,” she shot back, clearly miffed.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “I’m sorry I caused you worry. Please tell Mom and Dad that I’m okay. And I’ll talk to you later. I need to freshen up.” I hung the call before she could reply and took in my surroundings.

I was in Aston’s dressing room, my head lying on a cushion which I grabbed from the sofa last night. I thought if Aston saw me sleeping on his sofa, then he might throw a fit and I really didn’t want to risk his ire at this point. He clearly held the power here in more ways than one. And if I stepped over any proverbial line, then he might just bring my family in, which I couldn’t let him do. I winced at the crick in my neck as I stood up. But I nearly fell down when I turned around to see Aston standing at the door—which was now open—with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t expect my maid to sleep around all day. You’re supposed to clean my room and then make me breakfast, of course,” he said.

Good morning to you too, I thought, sarcastically.

“You might want to get your locks fixed. I got locked in and the door wouldn’t budge,” I said, brushing my hair with my fingers because my hairbrush was back in my apartment.

His smirk turned triumphant. “Oh, the locks are fine.”

“Then why couldn’t I open the door?”

Aston shrugged. “Because I locked you in.”

My subconscious kept telling me that it was Aston’s doing. That he was the one who locked me in. But I refused to believe it simply because I couldn’t find a single reason to justify his actions. And right now, when he was standing here and admitting that he deliberately locked me in, all I could wonder was why?

“Uh, why would you do that?” I couldn’t help but voice my thoughts.

He shrugged. “I felt like it.” He stepped inside the dressing room, unconcerned about my disheveled state.

Now I really couldn’t understand what he was playing at. What was wrong with him? Who would lock another person in their dressing room because they felt like it? My new boss apparently.

I wanted to ask him what was wrong with him but held my tongue. I was his slave. I had no right to ask him that. But I really wanted to.

“Wh—why?” The word was out before I could stop and the arch of his eyebrow told me exactly what he thought of it.

“Did you not hear me? I really don’t like a maid who can’t hear or understand me,” he stated.

I wanted to roll my eyes. “I can hear and understand you just fine. I just don’t know why. I mean…”

“Stop talking and get to work,” he ordered, his voice hard.

I opened my mouth to argue but promptly sealed it shut. I shouldn’t test his patience. It was evident he didn’t care about me or my suffering, so I shouldn’t bother making him understand. I was here as a way to keep my family safe from his clutches so I should just keep my head down and do whatever he wanted.

Except s*x.

Yes, except s*x.

So without wasting any more time I hurried out of Aston’s dressing room into yet another mess. My eyes widened for a fraction of a minute as I took in the state of his bedroom. I cleaned it all last night—I put everything away. But the room looked like a storm had hit it. The bed was rumpled and looked like a wrestling match had taken place. The cologne bottles laid toppled on the nightstand and one of the bedside lamps was lying on the floor with its hood in the corner. The drapes looked like somebody was fighting against them.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. This man was barbaric and he absolutely had no right to be this rich and powerful and beautiful. Who gave him the right to rule over my family? Who made him the boss?

His grandfather.

Of course. The man responsible for all the evils of the world. Tanner Diamandis. He considered himself to be our savior, when in fact he was the reason why we all were suffering from slavery in the twenty first century. I would’ve been free if it weren’t for him. All of us would be.

Pushing my resentment to the back of my head, I began picking things up and tried to restore the bedroom to its former glory. I could hear the sound of a shower turning on in the background and I tried to block out all images of Aston from my head, especially the ones in which he was naked. I shouldn’t waste my time imagining how beautiful he was with or without clothes when I clearly knew how ugly his personality was.

I didn’t know how long it took to put his room back in order but by the time he emerged from the bathroom, freshly dressed in a light blue shirt and black slacks, I was fixing the sheets on his bed.

“Wow, I can’t believe you managed to fix everything so quickly. The last maid I had used to take forever to fix my room,” he commented, eyeing his reflection in the mirror against the wall. There were quite a few mirrors in his dressing room and plenty in the bathroom. And his room had a few of them in different shapes and sizes.

“What would you like for breakfast?” I asked. His last maid was none of my business.

“What are you good at making?” He asked.

“What do you want? I can make whatever you want,” I answered, doing my best to look at him while fixing the sheets.

“Surprise me.”

“Excuse me?” Why did he have to make everything so difficult for me? It had been less than twenty four hours since I started working for him and already I wanted to kill myself.

“Do you want me to contact a doctor who can take a look at your hearing?” He flashed me a look of annoyance which shut me up.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m all done now, with your room. Do you want me to clean the bathroom now or after I serve you breakfast?”

“After. Go and prepare breakfast now,” he commanded and I was only too happy to obey. Anything to get away from him.

Getting out of Aston’s wing was easy but I had no idea where the kitchen was. And there was no one around that I could ask for directions. This was eerily similar to yesterday when I needed to find Aston’s room. Hopefully a servant would magically appear like last time and save me from further embarrassment.

However, no one came and I knew I was running out of time. If Aston came and didn’t find food, he might just kill me. I did not want to die so soon. So I began moving around the mansion, taking turns without really thinking, hoping I’d stumble into the kitchen. With silence surrounding me, it took me another ten minutes until I came across a door with a babble of voices and the clangs of utensils. Luck finally found me when I pushed the door and found the kitchen.

And it was massive.

It looked like it was built for royals. Every utensil under the sun was present here and I knew without a doubt every ingredient to ever exist was also here. The kitchen was every chef’s dream and I could not believe I would be cooking here.

There was an army of maids and chefs working in the kitchen. I had no idea why Aston told me to cook for him when he could have the chef do it but I had no choice. I had to do what he wanted.

With hesitant steps and equally hesitant intentions I strode over to the chef closest to me and tried to get his attention.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry to bother you but can you tell me what Master Aston likes to eat for breakfast?” I asked, hoping he’d tell me out of pity.

The man stared at me with dark beady eyes before pointing to something behind me. “The meal chart is over there. You can check for Master Aston in there. All his favorite meals are listed.”

I turned my head to see a box with nine compartments. Each compartment had a bunch of envelopes and I obviously picked out an envelope from the container which had Aston’s name on it. Pulling out a sheet of paper, I scanned the contents and the meals written were suitable for lunch or dinner. I put the paper back inside the envelope and pulled out another one. After unfolding and scanning I got a list of all the things Aston liked to eat and now all I had to do was cook.

There were too many cooking stations presents and I should’ve been able to find one for myself without much trouble but every single station was occupied and I was getting late.

“Uh, excuse me? Can I borrow this station? My Master requires me to make breakfast for him and I really need to make breakfast for him,” I asked a brunette maid who was also cooking. She had on a traditional maid’s uniform with her hair tied in a neat ponytail.

She gave me a sour look. “If you wanted to cook for your Master, you should’ve been here early like the rest of us. Now get away from me. And let me finish cooking for my Master.”

Her words had a strand of fear fraying inside me. If I got late, Aston was going to be pissed. He already hated that I defied him and showed up instead of my sister. If I didn’t get his breakfast to him he might just eat me alive.

But no matter where I looked all I saw were people cooking. All the maids seemed to be cooking for their assigned Masters and here I was just waiting for someone to give me a stove.

At least start preparing the ingredients. Hopefully someone will be done by then.

The advice jolted me into action. I rushed into the pantry and took out all the ingredients and then quickly washed and began cutting them up. I kept my eyes glued to the people around me, just waiting for someone to vacate a station so I could get to it. But with my eyes on the people I wasn’t able to focus on what I was doing and it was when the knife dug into into my fingers did I stop and looked down.

Blood spilled from the middle of my index and middle fingers, staining the cutting board and the cucumbers on top. I should’ve done something. I should’ve called for help or asked for some bandages. But the sight of my blood left me paralyzed and I could do nothing but watch as my blood slowly dripped onto the cutting board, soiling all the ingredients.

“Oh great, another one who doesn’t know how to use a knife,” a voice commented from somewhere far away before I felt someone standing next to me.

“I—uh—where are the bandages?” I asked while my mind kept telling me how this was a disaster. This was bad, utterly bad. If Aston found out that I delayed his breakfast because I cut myself he’d be furious. I knew it. I had to fix this. I had to fix my hand and cook for him. He couldn’t know about this.

However, before I could even think about getting the bandages the door of the kitchen swung open and Aston strode inside with Jaylen and Mack. And I knew it the moment his eyes landed on my face and then lowered to my bleeding fingers that I was done for.

It was game over.