curses and chores
770 Words
The staff bustled through the vast mansion like wind-up toys—curtains being steamed, silverware polished until it could blind someone, and not a single hair dared fall out of place on any surface. Louisiana Vale, mop in hand, was already drenched in sweat and bitterness. “Who are we cleaning for, the Queen of England or the Queen of Petty?” she muttered.
“Less talking, more scrubbing,” barked Gladys, the head maid, walking past with her clipboard like a general inspecting her troops.
Louisiana straightened, lips tight. “Yes, ma’am.” She mock-saluted as Gladys disappeared down the hallway.
Rumors buzzed like flies around a fruit bowl. Seraphina Blake, Alexander’s fiancée the glamorous socialite with her own skincare empire and a net worth that could feed a small country was now living in the mansion.
And from the moment she stepped in, the house was no longer Alexander’s.
Seraphina Blake owned everything. From the glittering marble floors to the custom embroidered napkins, her presence was like glitter, loud, sparkly, and impossible to ignore. Staff were no longer to speak unless spoken to, eye contact was discouraged, and smiling too brightly near Alexander was a crime punishable by an unpaid week off.
Louisiana, of course, didn’t read the manual. She had her own opinions. “I hope she trips in those glass heels of hers,” she hissed under her breath while dusting an antique vase. “And I hope he steps on Lego while he’s at it.”
“You’re talking to yourself again,” came a voice from the hallway.
She jumped. It was him.
Alexander stood tall in a black shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, obsidian eyes fixed on her like she’d just spilled ink on his floor. His hair, slicked back, gave him an extra inch of menace.
“I wasn’t,” she lied quickly.
His brow lifted. “You think I can’t tell when someone’s cursing me in their head?”
Louisiana blinked, guilty. “I wasn’t cursing, sir.”
He stepped closer. “No?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Very sure.”
He stared at her. She stared back. Tension danced in the air like heatwaves.
Then he handed her a list. “Since you have so much energy to talk, you’ll be polishing every chandelier in the house. Before midnight.”
Her jaw dropped. “There are twelve chandeliers.”
He turned. “And twelve hours. I’m generous like that.”
As he walked away, she muttered, “You’ll be generous with a backhand one day.”
“I heard that,” he called over his shoulder.
She flinched. “Demons have long ears.”
Just as she grabbed the ladder, Gladys stormed in again. “You’re on thin ice, Louisiana. One more slip-up and I’ll personally recommend your transfer to the east wing laundry. That place smells like boiled socks.”
“Can’t wait,” she muttered.
Later that night, while she stood on tiptoe to clean the last chandelier, the voices from Alexander’s study floated through the hallway. She wasn’t eavesdroppingtechnically. She just happened to be passing by. Slowly.
“…if we launch the spring campaign early, we’ll catch the post-winter buzz,” Seraphina’s voice purred. “Everyone wants dewy skin in March.”
“You’re not overextending your team again,” Alexander replied, voice firm.
“Oh, darling,” Seraphina laughed softly, “that’s what interns are for. Pressure builds diamonds.”
Louisiana rolled her eyes.
“You’re running four campaigns. Focus on what’s profitable,” he said. “Leave novelty to influencers.”
“I love when you get all CEO on me,” Seraphina cooed. “So commanding. It’s… hot.”
Louisiana made a gagging face, nearly falling off the ladder. I’m gonna need holy water for my ears.
“You always act like I’m some girl playing dress-up in your world,” Seraphina whispered sweetly.
“Maybe stop acting like it, then.”
The silence was loud.
“You’re so mean,” she pouted.
“I’m honest.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You chose me.”
Louisiana, now done with her task, shook her head. Yeah, sis. Chose stress. Could never be me. She climbed down the ladder, rubbing her sore arms. “One of these days, I’ll scrub his mouth with soap.”
Gladys appeared again. “What was that?”
“Just saying he has a spotless reputation, ma’am!”
Gladys narrowed her eyes. “You’re slippery.”
“I shower daily.” And with that, she grabbed her mop and escaped before karma caught her again.
- Writer
