She was distracted by Maya’s voice screaming her name like a siren.
“Claira!”
The sound echoed through the hallway so loudly.
Claira jumped, dropping the note she was folding. Her heart skipped. She hurried to the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. One thing she couldn’t afford was Lucas’s wrath—not again, not today.
Maya sat perched on the edge of the white leather couch, wearing one of Claira’s silk robes. Her manicured fingers tapped impatiently against her knee. She looked at Claira like one would look at a bug on the wall—annoyed and disgusted.
“You irritate me,” Maya said with a tight sneer, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. “But that’s not why I called you. I want something special to eat—something nice. And when I’m done, you’ll massage my legs. They’re
