Chapter 2: When the Devil Sat at the Table
1274 Words
SARIAN POV
I groaned and rested my head on the island as I finished cooking after almost an hour.
Despite what Marcus did, I had to complete the task that Anastasia gave me.
"Aren't you done?" Anastasia's voice boomed from the living room, startling me.
"It... It's ready," I shouted back with a cracked voice.
Am I supposed to serve it when her boyfriend hasn't arrived?
I readjusted my apron, placed the plates on the trolley and wheeled it out.
The other maid had arranged the dishes and cutlery.
Carefully, I placed the meals in a straight line at the centre of the glass dining table.
"I'm done, Miss Anastasia," I announced and stood at a corner with my hands behind me and the trolley by my side.
"C'mon, babe, let's eat," she said, and I furrowed my brows.
Babe? I didn't know he had arrived. I shook my head slightly. It doesn't concern me.
I bit my lower lip as my body cried out in exhaustion.
They both walked into the dining room, and I hung my head low. My stomach back-flipped.
But I was ready for the backlash I might receive, especially from her boyfriend.
No one would defend me.
"And what are you doing standing like a statue? Are we supposed to serve ourselves?" Anastasia scoffed.
I coughed softly and straightened up. Slowly, I walked towards them and started dishing the meals.
Then it hit me - a familiar scent and aura.
It can't be the man from earlier, right? I mean, he can't be Anastasia's new boyfriend.
The man's gaze focused on me. My muscles tensed, and my hands became shaky.
"Is that Cannoli?" he suddenly spoke up in his usual deep voice.
The dish slipped out of my hand and shattered on the floor.
That voice. It's him!
My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped.
"I warned you to avoid making mistakes," Anastasia sneered.
That disrupted my train of thought, and I fell on my knees. "Cazzo! (f**k)" I muttered, and started picking the shards on the floor.
"You can use something else, not your hand," he said to me.
Tears clouded my eyes, but I blinked rapidly and nodded.
I looked up at him. He was already staring back at me, and I quickly diverted my gaze.
With shaky legs, I went to the kitchen and took a brush and dustpan.
So he's Anastasia's new boyfriend? I thought he was genuinely concerned about me, but now I realize he belonged to my enemy.
My heart raced against my chest.
Anastasia wasn't aware of Marcus's s****l advances towards me. What if her boyfriend tells her?
She already sees me as trash, but knowing that disgraceful secret, she would see me as a w***e seducing her brother.
I wiped my tears, steadied my breath and walked out. Fingers crossed, I hope he doesn't breathe a word about it.
"Always slow with everything," Anastasia grumbled as she ate her food.
"Anna," he called her daringly, and she huffed.
From the corner of my eye, I glanced at him, but his attention was on his food.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and cleaned up the mess I made, went back to the kitchen to discard it.
I returned and stood inches away from them
"How do you know how to make cannoli?" He asked, not sparing me a glance.
What's so special about the cannoli? Just eat and please don't ask me questions. I can't afford to make more mistakes.
"Uhm, it's my..."
"Why? Don't you like it?" Anastasia chipped in, cutting me off but with a soft voice.
He dropped his fork and shrugged.
"Sarah, why did you make this in the first place? There are better options to choose from," she gritted as a fake smile plastered on her face.
Sarah? I rolled my head internally. I've lived here since I was seven, and she doesn't even know my name.
"Take it away!" She commanded, and I stepped forward to take it away when the man spoke up.
"Enough," he growled, and Anastasia snapped her lips shut.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to shout. It was clear the control was his.
He locked eyes with Anastasia. "I never said I didn't like it."
He continued. "I only asked because it's so rare to find such a tasteful cannoli. Not everyone knows how to make it."
His accent was more thick. He's Italian?
My fear dissipated gradually. Despite my mistakes, he had never blamed me.
"My mama taught me," I said in a low voice, and he nodded.
If eyes could kill, Anastasia's glare would have killed me.
"Is... cannoli an Italian meal?" Anastasia asked her boyfriend, smiling, as she tried to gain his attention.
"Hmmm," was all he said.
Such a dumb question. Her boyfriend is Italian but doesn't even know basic Italian meals?
Anastasia's eyes blazed as she eyed me. Her jaw clenched. It was obvious she was trying to stay calm.
"You seem to be enjoying it," she chuckled nervously.
The mighty Anastasia is nervous? I don't blame her, though. This new boyfriend of hers is different.
He's intimidating and cold.
"Of course, it's my favorite," he grumbled.
Huh? I made his favorite meal? Now, Anastasia's hatred just multiplied.
Her grip on the wine glass tightened. "Oh, I see.”
"You can leave now, Sarah," she ordered.
I rushed out of the dining room and into the kitchen.
I shut the door, leaned against the wall and placed my hand on my chest. My heart pounded.
“What kind of coincidence was that? My life was about to get more unbearable.
Countless reasons for Anastasia to bury me alive keep piling up.
"You promised to make me your signature custard pie," I heard him say.
"Oh, about that, I'll make it as soon as possible," she replied.
Anastasia has never cooked before. Hope it wasn't the pie that I created some months back?
Maybe this is my chance to redeem myself. If I prepare it well, and he praises her, maybe she might spare me for a while.
"Hey, Killian,” Marcus’s voice rang out suddenly. “I didn’t greet you properly earlier.”
My blood turned cold.
I slid down the wall, hugging my knees.
Marcus was here.
And the man who had defended me… was standing in the same room as my abuser.
I bit my lip waiting to hear Killian's reaction. Would he pretend not to know that Marcus tried forcing himself on me.
My stomach churned at the silence that followed. Several thoughts spiraled through my head.
I stared at the neatly folded coat resting on the chair.
What if his kindness was just an act? I'm nothing special. He'd probably do that for anyone in my position.
“Killian,” I whispered, tasting his name. A bitter chuckle escaped my lips.
Friend.
Enemy.
Or the most dangerous mistake of my life?
Whatever he is, I have to stay away from him. It's the only option.
I shook my head and finished cleaning up.
The door burst open, and I yelped but calmed down when I saw it was the maid.
"You scared me," I panted.
"It's your…" she stuttered as she breathed heavily.
My heart picked up the pace. As I denied the probability of what she was about to say. "Speak,"
"It's your mother.”
Her hands trembled, and tears clouded her eyes.
I staggered a bit. What happened to her? She was fine when I left her.
Without waiting to hear what she had to say, I dashed out. The worst scenario replayed in my head.
- Writer
