A Maid For The Ruthless Brothers

Elsie

The day I finally leave this mansion, it won't be as a maid—it will be with them in handcuffs. I don't care how long it takes to execute the plan I've been perfecting. The Lancaster brothers are going to pay, and they're going to pay dearly for what they stole from me. That singular thought was the only thing that kept me breathing, moving, and enduring the daily torment they inflicted.

Cloud of dust from the antique sofa shot straight up my nose, triggering a sneeze that rattled the room.

A sticky, white substance, partially dried, was on the couch. Without thinking, I touched it and brought my finger to my nose before I could stop myself. The sharp, unpleasant smell hit me immediately, and I grimaced. Sperm.

“Ugh,” I muttered, quickly wiping my hand with a towel.

It had to be Jacob. I remembered catching a glimpse of him fucking a red-haired girl on that very couch during the party, right when I was sneaking into the kitchen for a snack.

Everyone had been cheering them on as he fucked her, and Aiden, was right there, his cock in her mouth. It must have tasted good with the way she shook and moaned around it. The whole scene made my stomach turn. And even though my core throbbed, moistening my panties, I only felt disgust.

I couldn’t possibly want them. I hated even the air they breathe.

Hours went into the cleaning.

The boys couldn't have made this house dirtier if they'd actively tried to destroy it. Every single room was filthy.

But the kitchen was the worst.

I knelt amidst the war zone they called a kitchen. The air was thick with the stench of stale beer, old grease, and rotting trash. The disposable cups and empty bottles that crunched under my knees were proof of last night’s sins.

I grappled with a garbage bag that was so overstuffed the plastic had ripped. When I lifted it, the putrid contents exploded over the floor, coating my hands and the nearby counter. I groaned, planting my hands on my hips, exhausted and disgusted. This relentless misery was my penance, my price for staying close to the monsters.

A deep voice sliced through the filth, so close it made me jump.

“Look who’s playing in the dirt.”

I whirled around. Jacob stood right behind me, his broad shoulders instantly swallowing the dim morning light. His features—chiseled jaw, malicious dark eyes—were the replica of cruelty.

My breath hitched. I was in the cotton tank top and mini-skirt I’d slept in, no bra. His gaze swept over my exposed legs and chest with the heat of a spotlight, making me acutely aware of my outfit.

He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away with what looked like genuine effort. "In the future, I expect you to wear appropriate attire around the house."

Aiden made his way to the fridge for a bottle of water, and that's when I noticed his outfit: freaking boxers. And an undershirt so thin I could see the outlines of some very sexy muscles. Tattoos covered his upper arms, though the shirt hid most of them. On his bicep, the name Sarah was etched inside a heart. Who the hell was Sarah?

I should never, ever find Aiden Lancaster attractive, but the demon was undeniably drop-dead gorgeous. His skin was a light, healthy tan, a shade that only comes from spending a huge amount of time outside.

He caught me staring. Embarrassing. I quickly bent down to continue packing the trash, and my short skirt instantly rode up, leaving a huge chunk of my butt exposed.

What is wrong with this stupid skirt? He must think I'm trying to seduce him, which couldn't be further from the truth. I hated him so much that I wanted to drive a knife into his chest.

I grabbed the hem to pull it down, but before I could, I felt Aiden's heated gaze on me. When I caught his eye, he coughed deliberately into his hand.

“We have rules about attire, Elsie,” a second voice stated, colder and sharper. Aiden had followed his brother, moving with the silent, predatory grace of a coiled wire. He cleared his throat, but his dark eyes didn’t tear away. “A tempting distraction, but inappropriate for my kitchen.”

They disgust me, I thought, pulling the skirt’s hem down, uselessly. I hated how undeniably gorgeous they both were, how their presence, even standing in a mess of their own making, felt like a threat.

Jacob smirked, his eyes dropping to the stain of garbage on my hands. “You missed a critical house rule this morning, little girl.” He didn't ask a question; he made an accusation. “The 9 AM breakfast is non-negotiable.”

My stomach dropped. In my frantic, hours-long battle with their filth, I hadn't even started breakfast. I swallowed the fire I wanted to spit back, that I was too busy cleaning the battlefield you left! But I remained mute.

Aiden stepped closer, moving past the spilled trash without a flicker of reaction. He leaned a hip against the counter. “She had excuses, Jacob. She claims she had ‘too much work to do.’ Can you imagine?”

“Hardly,” Jacob drawled, his voice dropping to a low baritone that annoyingly sent a frantic flutter through my ribs. “You know the penalty for non-compliance, Elsie.”

I looked up, meeting his ice-blue eyes. I tried to speak, but the fear, raw and paralyzing, clamped my jaw shut.

Jacob crossed his arms over his chest, his immense biceps flexing beneath his thin undershirt. They towered over me, giants in their kingdom of chaos.

“The rule is simple: Non-compliance results in punishment.” His voice was a dangerous growl. “I’ll give you two minutes, starting now, to choose the penalty yourself. Fail to choose, and I choose for you.”

I fought back the urge to cry, the desperate fear of what his 'choice' would be. The last time, I was left hungry and shivering. I forced my eyes to the clock above the stove.

Aiden took a slow, deliberate sip of water, his dark gaze locked on me.

Jacob’s smile widened, a malicious crescent. He began counting, his voice dropping lower with each second, a dangerous, unwavering metronome marking my descent.

“Ten.”

He countdown…