Chapter Three
1242 Words
FRAMED PHOTO
Amelia's POV
I raised my head and stared at him, keeping any form of fear off my face.
He stared for some seconds and everyone else started muttering about why he was looking at me so intently.
Without saying a word, he turned and walked up the stairs.
I let out a sigh of relief when the head maid roughly grabbed my hand, dragging me off.
“What did you do?” she asked and my brows furrowed in confusion.
“What do you mean?” I asked and her hand wrapped around mine, tightened.
“What did you do to make him pay attention to you just now?”
I tried to shake her off but she had no intention of letting me go.
“I didn't do anything,” I replied, wincing in pain.
“Well, this is the first time he has bothered to know any of the maids personally. You must have piqued his interest. I don't want you trying to get all over him and into his pants. You're assigned to the kitchen and the laundry.”
She finally released me and stalked off, leaving my hand hurting and red from her strong grip.
I massaged my hand as I headed for the maid quarters.
Damnit. Why did he have to call out to me?
He just ruined my plans on how I could get access to his office. Now I'm not getting anywhere close to him?
I pushed the door open with a bit more force than I should have and stepped in. Immediately I did, and all eyes turned to face me.
“Is she the one?”
“Yeah, I heard he specifically asked her to raise her head.”
The murmurs began, as they acted like I wasn't in the room.
I dropped my gaze and walked past them, ignoring the whispers and snide glances that followed me all the way to my bunk.
“Must be nice, catching the boss’s eye,” one of them said under her breath.
Another laughed. “Yeah, let’s see how long that lasts before he gets bored.”
I clenched my jaw and started folding the sheets stacked at the end of my bed, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. If there was one thing I’d learned over the years, it was that silence unnerved people more than words ever could.
But their voices didn’t stop.
“Maybe she’s got some tricks up her sleeve.”
“Or maybe she’s just another desperate maid trying to sleep her way up.”
They burst out laughing.
My fingers tightened around the fabric. I wanted to tell them they were wrong, that the last thing I wanted was his attention, but I couldn’t. Because no matter how much I denied it, a part of me had still looked at him like a fool when he stood there earlier.
Like he was the same man I used to know.
I threw the folded sheet onto the pile and walked out before I did something stupid, like yell at them, explaining my pain and all I had gone through because of him.
The days after that, I kept my head down. Did what I was told. Spoke only when spoken to.
It worked, mostly. The gossip died down, replaced with boredom, and soon enough, my presence barely raised a head.
Even the head maid’s eyes softened a little when they landed on me.
“Good,” she’d say. “Keep it that way. The quiet ones last longer here.”
I gave her a warm smile each time she said it. If I wanted access to his study, to his files, to anything that could serve as evidence for what really happened three years ago, I needed to get her approval.
And I did.
“Maria!”
I froze, a piece of clothing in my hand I was folding. “Yes, ma’am?”
She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Mr. Cross’s room hasn’t been cleaned today,”
I looked at her, slowly nodding and trying to understand what she was trying to say by telling me that.
“You’ll handle it,” she said.
I blinked. “His room?”
“You heard me.”
Every maid in the room turned to look at me and I could feel their questioning eyes and curious glances once again.
“I thought no one was allowed in there,” I said carefully.
“That’s true.” Her gaze sharpened. “But I trust you’ve learned your lesson since the last time you drew attention to yourself. Don’t touch anything unnecessary. Just clean what’s visible and leave.”
She tossed me a key. “And make it quick. He’s out for the evening.”
My palms dampened as I caught it.
“Oh no, I couldn't possibly–” I said, feigning disinterest.
“Are you going against my word?” she frowned and I immediately bowed my head like I was apologetic.
“No, I would go right away.”
I then walked past her and put the door, closing it behind me before letting the smile I had been trying to hold back, creep up my face.
“Finally.” I breathed out.
I walked with a skip in my steps to his room, unlocked the door, and stepped in, the smell of him hitting me in the face.
The room was dull and dark. Like life had been sucked out of it. It was neat, of course it was. Barely needed any cleaning at even. Everything about him had always been organized. His suits were arranged by color, his watch collection lined perfectly on the dresser.
I didn't waste time getting to work. I dusted off the shelves but made sure to open a drawer or two as I did but I found nothing. This was fruitless.
I groaned in frustration, wishing she had told me to clean his office instead.
I straightened my back and continued, finishing up what I was sent here to do.
I dusted the shelves, straightened the books, and smoothed out the creases on the duvet.
Then I reached his desk, a small table at the corner of the room.
A framed photo sat near the edge, half-turned toward the wall, as if deliberately hidden and that simple fact piqued my interest.
I frowned and reached for it but as I turned it slightly, a strong hand slammed the frame shut with a thud, facing down on the table that I was sure the glass would have cracked.
My heart lurched into my throat.
“Touching things that don’t belong to you now?” His voice was deep and sent a shiver down my spine, too afraid to turn around.
I froze. I hadn’t even heard him come in.
He was standing close… too close… his presence filling the room, his scent was heavier now, intoxicating and suffocating all at once.
“I—I didn’t know you were—”
He cut me off, spinning me around, my back to the desk and facing me fully. His hands slammed on each side of me, aging me in and I watched a vein pop on his forehead. His jaw was tight and his eyes dark with anger
“What the f**k are you doing in my room?”
- Writer
