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“If you’re so interested in doing your job, then clean up this mess,” I tell her, voice ice cold as I sweep everything off the dresser with one arm. “And then when you’re done, make sure to put all these clothes away,” I add, turning out my dresser drawers and shaking the clothes onto the ground one by one.
“Why?” she asks, voice soft and plaintive.
“You had your chance for the nice Ryder,” I tell her, anger coursing through me. “But you didn’t want him. You should have taken me up on my offer when you had the chance. But now you’re going to regret ever turning me down, dollface.”
4
OLIVER
My fists clench at my sides as I watch the pretty, young maid move gracefully through the halls of the manor. She’s everywhere all the time now, her presence infiltrating every corner of the home like an unwelcome guest.
Every step she takes echoes in my ears, a constant reminder of our father’s absence and Fitz’s determination to move forward as if nothing happened here.
I lean against the wall, hidden in the shadows, jaw tight with simmering resentment.
"Good morning, Mr. Oliver," Fitz’s voice rings out, rousing me from my silent stalking.
“Fitz,” I respond, bracing myself for the inevitable confrontation.
“I know you’ve been unhappy with the decision to hire new household staff, but it’s been three years, Mr. Oliver. Miss Parker is a good fit for the job, and we need the extra help around the house. There will be more staff hired on soon, so you may as well get used to it.”
As Fitz speaks, his words grate on my nerves, igniting a familiar fire of anger within me. How could he be so dismissive, so insensitive? Doesn't he understand that her presence is a constant reminder of everything we'd lost? I clench my fists at my sides, struggling to contain the seething emotions churning within me.
Without a word, I storm off, the echo of Fitz's voice fading behind me. I need to get away, to clear my head before the anger consumes me entirely. The feeling of betrayal lingers like a shadow over my head.
It’s the fault of that little vixen. As I watch Evangeline glide through the halls, I can’t shake the resentment bubbling in my core. Her presence is a stark reminder of what we’ve lost, dredging up memories of happier times that are tarnished by grief and regret. How dare she infiltrate this place, a sanctity steeped in our family’s legacy?
Straightening my shoulders, I plot my first move. Catching the girl off-guard, I approach with a disarming smile as she dusts the bookshelves in the hall. “How are you doing today?” I ask, taking her hand in mine and bringing it to my lips for a gentle kiss.
“I’m… fine,” she says, a blush on her face as she slowly takes her hand back. “Just working. Can I help you with anything, sir?”
“Fitz asked me to tell you that he requires your assistance in the wine cellar,” I tell her. “I’m not sure what he needs, but he said it was urgent.”
“Oh. Thank you,” she says. Her gaze lingers on mine for a long moment before she takes off, leaving her duster behind. I wait until she’s rounded the corner before smirking and strolling off with my hands in my pockets.
A half-hour later, I hear Fitz berating the girl on the landing as I pass by on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Why would you ever go into the wine cellar?” Fitz demands, tone harsh. Evangeline catches my eye, and I give her a sympathetic look.
“Mr. Oliver told me you wanted me there,” she says, pointing at me. Fitz looks up, and I shrug.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, enjoying the crestfallen look on her face. “She’s mistaken, Fitz. I was merely saying hello and then suddenly, she said she needed to go somewhere.” My wide-eyed expression is enough for Fitz, and he turns back on Evangeline, haranguing her for lying.
Once I’m in the kitchen, I lean against the island, snickering to myself at the expression on her face. She’s in for a treat if she thinks she can get away with flaunting herself all over the place like she belongs here.
It isn’t long before Evangeline finds me in the kitchen, approaching me with trepidation. “Why did you lie to Fitz?” she asks, wringing her hands.
“Excuse me?” I ask. “I would never lie to Fitz. You’re the one who said you needed to leave, remember?”
“I’m sorry,” she begs. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
My heart races, realizing I’ve got her just where I want her.
I fix her with a cold gaze. “You have some errands to run for me. First, head to the Blue Monkey on Simmons. Get me a large misto with hazelnut, almond milk, and two blonde shots, ristretto. Make sure they add the hazelnut first.” I watch her scramble to jot down the details on her phone.
“After that, swing by the dry cleaners on Fifth to grab my order. Drop off the pants in my closet. Then, polish my shoes, reorganize my ties, and give my bathroom a thorough cleaning.”
"She glances up at me, eyes wide with trepidation. “Anything else?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
