Her Job His Rules

A Dinner Party Announcement

I was already half-dead from hunger when I walked into the kitchen that evening, only to be reminded by the thick scent of roasted lamb and garlic that dinner wasn’t for me. Not yet. Not until I served him first. My stomach growled—loud enough for the maid beside me to chuckle—but I ignored it. Pride, you know?

I grabbed the tray I’d arranged earlier, balancing it with muscle memory now. Three days in and I could practically do this blindfolded. Still in that humiliating uniform, still no panties, and still pretending like I was totally okay walking around with my dignity hanging by a thread. Literally.

One more day down. Just two more before the weekend. Then I could finally go home and get actual clothes. Underwear. A damn bra.

I stepped into the hallway, tray in hand, ignoring the usual whispers and side-eyes from other maids. Some of them pitied me. Some looked amused. The bolder ones? They smirked, like they knew something I didn’t. Whatever. Let them have their gossip.

I reached his study and knocked once.

“Come in,” came that usual deep voice.

I pushed the door open, balancing the tray like my life depended on it—which, honestly, it kind of did. I wasn’t about to drop his food. Not when I was this close to a weekend break. I walked over and placed the tray on his table without looking him in the eye.

“Your dinner, sir.”

“Sit,” he said suddenly.

Wait. What?

I blinked. Did he just say sit? He never asks me to stay.

“I… should go. I still have—”

“I said sit, Ava.”

My name on his lips sounded like silk and steel at once. And God, the way he said it. I sat.

He didn’t speak right away. Just sipped his wine and flipped through a file like I wasn’t there. I sat awkwardly, hands clasped, trying not to squirm in the chair or think about the breeze teasing beneath the short hem of my uniform.

Just when I started to wonder if he’d forgotten I was here, he closed the file and looked up.

“There’ll be a formal dinner this Saturday,” he said.

I blinked. “A dinner?”

“Yes. A business dinner. High-profile guests. You’ll be serving.”

My stomach dropped.

I know I should’ve nodded and said yes sir like every other maid with a working survival instinct, but my brain short-circuited. Did he just say formal dinner? In this uniform? In front of guests?

“I…” I started, trying to sound composed, “will we be given something else to wear? I mean… since it’s a formal dinner.”

His brows lifted—just slightly. “You already have a uniform.”

Yes. A uniform that barely covers my ass and makes me feel like I walked out of a gentleman’s club.

“Yes, but… in front of guests? Important ones?”

His gaze didn’t shift. Didn’t soften. He just took another sip of his wine like he hadn’t just sentenced me to public humiliation.

“I expect all maids to look presentable. You’ll be fine.”

Fine? I’m going to be half-naked in front of men wearing suits and women with diamonds on their necks the size of my self-esteem. Fine my ass.

I nodded stiffly, swallowing the scream forming at the back of my throat. He returned to his food like the conversation was over. I stood, stiffly, like my knees had locked, and turned to leave.

“And Ava,” he said, just before I reached the door.

I turned slowly. “Sir?”

“Make sure your uniform is clean and pressed. First impressions matter.”

Right. Pressed. Maybe I’ll iron in some modesty while I’m at it.

“Yes, sir,” I muttered before stepping out.

The second I was out of his study, I stormed down the hallway, holding back the urge to scream into a pillow. A formal dinner. In this.

Why did he hate me? I mean, did I kick his puppy in a past life or something? Or was this just some twisted pleasure—watching me squirm?

I walked into the laundry room to take a break before heading to my room, and of course, Bella was there folding towels.

“Hey,” she said, eyeing my face. “You look like you just ate glass.”

“He just told me there’s going to be a formal dinner,” I muttered, dropping onto the nearest stool.

“Oh right,” she said casually. “We get those sometimes. The whole mansion goes stiff for it.”

“Well, I’m going to be serving in this,” I said, tugging on the hem of my micro-mini shame rag.

Bella winced. “Oof. Yikes. No special outfits?”

“Nope. Just this. Same uniform. Same rules.”

“Girl, you better double-knot your self-respect and hold it tight.”

I laughed, but it was dry and tired. “I haven’t even got any underwear, Bella. One pair. That’s it. I’m washing it every night and praying it dries. What am I going to do on Saturday?”

She hesitated. “You could talk to Mrs. Greene. She handles supplies. Maybe she’ll let you borrow an extra set.”

“Right, because that woman just radiates generosity.”

Bella chuckled. “Okay, true.”

I groaned and leaned back against the wall. “If I flash anyone’s husband that night, it’s not on me.”

“No, girl. It’s on Alex.”

That shut me up.

Alex.

Of course, he knew exactly what he was doing. He saw the uniform. Saw me in it. Approved it. And now he was placing me in front of a room full of wolves wearing nothing but a napkin and false confidence.

I didn’t want to admit it, but part of me wondered—did he want to see what I’d do? If I’d say no? Quit?

Well, I wasn’t quitting. Not yet. I needed the money. I needed to endure. Just a few more weeks, then I could decide if it was worth it.

Still, the thought of being watched like that—seen by powerful strangers while I tried to walk with dignity and balance plates—made my stomach twist.

But if he thought I’d crumble?

He had another thing coming.