No happiness

Amara's POV.

My ass still hurt as I sat on the cold steel floor of my room crying for a life that was taken away from me by men I didn't know.

"Amara." A familiar voice yelled. The walls of the huge house vibrated in response.

It was the Baron's wife, Camille, a tiny lithe woman. She was blessed with the body of a housecat but had the voice and spirit of a thousand warriors. Camille looked gentle and harmless even but that was just a camouflage covering up her ruthless efficiency. She was the type of woman you would want by your side when facing the worse possible danger scenario.

I was sprinting through the hall and almost knocked down the cook on my way. She was fast in avoiding me and I was lucky my clumsy level had reduced a little. Camille was about to yell my name again when I burst through the door like a raging storm.

"I'm here," I said with a little bow just as she had taught me. Camille loved things done a certain way and even though I loved her, she was way scarier than the Baron himself.

She nodded her approval and signaled for me to shut the door which I did. Her chambers reminded me of the beautifully decorated rooms I saw in the princess movies as a kid. Everything was elegant and surprisingly big for such a small woman.

Camille eyed me for a while with an unreadable expression on her face before saying, "We would be expecting a guest. This isn't just any guest so I need you and Margaret to be extra."

Margaret was the cook and she always needed us to be extra so what was so different about this one. Who was this guest?

I nodded once showing I understood what she had said, just the way she taught me. 

Everything had to be done just the way she had taught. She eyed me again then hesitated.

"I'll need you in actual clothes. The rags you have won't do." I looked myself over confirming her statement. The clothes I had on weren't even good enough to wipe the table in the dining hall. I'd bet even rats would decline to have a bite from it if you offered the clothes on a silver platter.

"But -"

"No buts. Sylvia will see to it that you're fixed. You can't serve food in that contaminated outfit."

I smiled as I bowed once. Sylvia was the spiteful bitch that was lucky enough to have been picked as Camille's maid. She had been in the same slave house with me and we bonded on several occasions. For a while, I honestly felt like she cared about me and the others in the slave house till we had been lucky enough to get picked by the Baron. Sylvia had been given the responsibility of handling everything involving Camille and suddenly she was better than everyone. That was when her true nature raised its ugly head.

"You may go," Camille said. She resumed reading the heavy magazine in her hands. I turned around and walked out of the room when she called out my name. "Amara. I expect nothing less than perfection." She added without turning.

An hour later, Sylvia slithered into my room with a look on her face like she had just walked into a torture chamber. She had soft sheets while I had an iron bonker bed. She had clothes fit enough to make her look important while she was out on an errand for Camille while I had rags I inherited from the previous maid. Sylvia glanced at me like I was just a gruesome stain on the wall. She wasn't worth it and I came to that conclusion a long time ago so I shrugged.

"These are for you." She said without looking at me. She throw the bags towards me and slithered away from the room just as she had come in. It was hard to blame her especially when the room was in the basement resembling a dungeon.

I picked up the bag and was immediately astonished by the contents. The clothes inside were so glamorous, that I pinched myself twice just to be sure it was real. Dreams had a way of messing around with me.

Shuffling through the clothes, a jade gown cut low made me gasp. The gown made my mouth water uncontrollably. It was just perfect. I rushed to the mirror at the far end of the room as I slipped away from the dirty clothes. My eyes danced on my reflection taking in the curves and long legs. The bra I was wearing did its very best to contain a set of breasts that were created to cause chaos and confusion.

I slipped into the gown. 

The sight of my reflection made me squeal like a little girl. The sound of my squeal echoed back at me as I prayed Camille wasn't around to hear it. The green gown fit me to the extreme. It clung to my flesh like a second skin showing my curves.

That evening, the whole house came alive with activity. Even Sylvia scurried across the hall endlessly running errands that were far from normal. Who was this visitor that everyone so worked up about? There was one way I could find out. Fuck it! I need to know.

I snuck to the kitchen maneuvering like a freaking ninja. Margaret was there rushing over several burners. The place had an aroma strong enough to attract bears and hungry beasts. Margaret was a fucking genius in the kitchen and she took cooking like it was an art. 

The heavy woman pinned around as I approached her. Her smile was welcoming.

"Just the angel I've been praying for," Margaret said with a sigh. She looked exhausted and happy at the same time. I thought it was impossible to see a person most happy while working till I met Margaret.

"Me? An angel? I must have missed something.

She chuckled. Margaret handed me an apron that just happen to be lying around and slapped my ass which was her way of urging me to join her. We worked on the cooking in synchronous harmony. I almost forgot my reason for coming into the kitchen but then it hit me.

I faked an accidental bump into Margaret and glowed like I just had an idea occur to me that very minute. "Mag, you wouldn't happen to know who this VIP guest is, would you?"

She watched me with suspicious eyes before saying, "The Baroness's brother."