Chapter 006: An Invitation

Ada

That man's on my case, and if I'm not careful, I'll land myself into trouble, the kind that I won't be able to claw myself out of so easily.

The truth if that it's hard for me to hide the way I feel about these people. Of course, I'm aware that Reynold Loxley's children have nothing to do with their father's sins, but I can't help but feel resentful toward them all.

They live a good life, totally oblivious to the fact that their father is a monster, and I had to live with that for the longest time. Every day, I live in the shadow of the life he created for me unknowingly. Every day, I think about how different my life would've been if my father had just lived.

So, I hate them for it. I hate their ignorance and lavish lifestyle built on the blood and bones of innocent people. How many men did their father kill? How many people's lives were affected like mine were?

I refuse to believe his crime was a one-time thing.

I shake my head to clear my mind, and focus on the task at hand. I have an enormous marble floor to deal with. I've already cleaned it up. Now, I have to apply a stone sealant, and it has to be done with a sponge.

I get on my knees, and get straight to work.

Not five minute later, I hear the sound of footsteps against the stone floor, and curiously, I turn my head to look.

I see a woman who looks to be around my age staring back at me, and she's in a uniform, too, so she's definitely a maid. She leans against the doorway, a weirdly aggressive look on her face, and then she tells me, "Hi, I'm Sheila. I don't think we've met yet."

"No, I haven't had the chance to meet anyone after what happened yesterday," I reply as I stand up. "I'd shake your hand, but they're in gloves right now."

"Oh, don't worry about it," she replies in a strange, high-pitched tone. I realize right away that there's something wrong with her, and I don't mean that in a good way. "I didn't come here to say hello."

I frown. "What are you here for, then?"

Instead of answering me, she walks further into her room while looking around, perhaps to ensure that one cleaned things well. I don't have to answer to her, I'm sure. Mrs. Danes is the one who'll inspect my work to ensure everything is clean.

Who's this woman?

The closer she gets, the better I can look at her. Her eyebrows are thin and arched, and she definitely has filler all over her face. She's pretty, maybe too pretty to be a maid, and her body...it's clearly done, too.

Her breasts are huge.

"You rescued Rebecca's son and now everyone is talking about you," she begins. "I guess that makes you feel...important? Special?"

"No, actually. It doesn't."

"I saw you talking to Mr. Loxley in the parlor," she says, changing the subject. Or is she? "What did you say to him?"

"How's that any of your business?" I ask, unable to mask my anger mixed with disbelief. Is she really asking me this? Are people really this...is brave the right word? More like shameless.

"It's my business because I said it is," she finally says, stopping to face me. "You're new, so I'll give you a break, but know that you don’t belong here. Stay far away from the family, and especially Mr. Loxley. He’s not for you, and don’t bother wasting your time because he’ll never see you as more than a servant. A maid.”

I let her words hang in the air for a few beats before I burst out laughing. Sheila blinks at me, clearly not expecting it, but I can’t seem to stop. It starts out soft and then grows into something that borders on the edge of hysteria.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, her voice cutting through the sound of my laughter.

“He’s not for me?” I echo. “Who’s he for, then? You?”

My questions seems to offend her deeply because her face grows red. I add, “I’m not interested in Mr. Loxley, if that’s what you’re assuming. I’m here to do my job and get paid for it. That’s it.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” she claims almost pathetically, I should add.

“What you just said is more than enough for me to get an idea of who you are, and let me tell you, I’m not impressed,” I reply with a shake of my head. “If you think for a second that I’m scared of you and your pitiful threats, then you’re mistaken and don’t know me at all.”

Sheila crosses the distance between us swiftly, emanating aggression. I stand my ground and stare into her eyes, challenging her.

I never thought that I’d be in this kind of situation when I first started working here. She gives me a dirty look before saying, “You’ll regret your words. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

“Don’t waste my time more than you already have,” I retort. “Or I’ll have to report you to Mrs. Danes. Then I’ll see what you’ll have to say to her face when she finds out who possessive you are over the family. I think you’re a threat to them all.”

Her eyes widen and she steps back, her throat bobbing. I want to shake my head again, but I don’t. Instead, I ask her, “Has this ever worked on anyone before? Is that what gave you the confidence to do such a thing?”

A thin smile spreads across her lips, and she turns on her heel and walks away from me, leaving me alone in the enormous room. I shrug, and get back to work.

I’m not intimidated by her. In fact, I feel quite sad for her. She clearly thinks she has a chance with these people, and I’m sure she’s threatened by what I’ve managed to accomplish so far. She’s a fool, though. I never asked for this and I don’t need their attention.

I don’t need eyes on me when I’m here to practically destroy them. All of them. Their father’s crime might blemish their family name, so they’ll all be impacted by what I came here to do.

Tomorrow, I’ll be cleaning the office, and the base of my spine is tingling with excitement.

As I get up, looking at what I’ve done so far, I have to admit that I feel a sense of pride for having cleaned this place up so nicely. I walk out of the room, holding the bucket, and that’s when I nearly bump into Mr. Manney.

I’m surprised to see him standing right in front of me.

But he doesn’t look surprised to see me.

“Naomi,” he says, smiling pleasantly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Manney.”

“Ah,” he says. “I see you’ve forgotten that I’ve asked you to call me Edmund. Or just Ed.”

“Right, Ed,” I say, wondering what he wants from me.

“I see you’re insistent on not taking any compensation for what you’ve done for us,” he begins. “That’s fine. I respect that. What I want to do is offer you something else. Will you say yes?”

“Depends on what it is,” I admit, already determined to say no.

“Well, there’s a party coming up, and our entire family will be joining,” he claims. “It’s a very high-end party, and my wife and I would like to invite you to join. Don’t worry, she’ll take care of everything. The invitation. Clothes.”

“Oh…I can’t accept that.”

“Please do,” he says insistently. Before I can utter a response, he says, “I understand that you’re prideful, but this is something nice we want to do for you. Please, say yes. It’s all we ask. She really wants you to come, and so do I. If you won’t take money or anything material, accept this experience.”

They’re not going to leave me alone until I say yes. To them, they owe me, and they’ll only feel better once that debt has been paid. A party won’t kill, plus, I can always leave early.

“Alright,” I say, and note how he relaxes. “I’ll go.”

“Perfect,” he says. “I knew you’d say yes.”

His hand then settles on my shoulder, and the way he grips me makes me uncomfortable right away. There’s a glint in his eyes when he says, “You’ll have fun. That, I promise you.”

Then, with that, he walks away from me, leaving me alone and wondering why he touched me like that, and why his eyes shone mischievously right before he looked away.