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“Yes,” I say, lips curling into a grin. “Now that I think about it, I also need you to go to Macy’s and have my personal shopper pick out some new silk shirts for me, about ten. And I need you to go to the docks and pick up a shipment for me from Frank. Tell him Oliver Everhart sent you.”
“And doing this will help?” Evangeline asks, biting her lower lip as she gazes up at me with those big, blue eyes.
“We’ll see,” I tell her. “For now, just get this done.”
A smirk lingers on my lips as she leaves, but it falls, a gnawing sense of unease replacing it. Why do I have such a primal urge to assert dominance over this girl? She’s just a maid, nothing to be concerned about, and yet it feels as though this is the one thing I could control in a world spiraling out of my grasp. I push aside the conflicting thoughts and focus on finishing my work for Declan.
Once she returns with my coffee, I employ the third part of my plan. As soon as I take a sip, I spit it out, making a disgusted face. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s your coffee order, sir,” Evangeline says, anxiety in her expression. “I gave them the exact order you told me. Look.” She shows me her phone.
“This has two shots of hazelnut, you stupid girl! I asked for three. You wrote it down wrong.”
“But…”
“No excuses. Get me another one. And better make it right this time. We wouldn’t want to have to fire you for incompetence, would we?” I tell her. She scrambles backward, eyes downcast.
“No sir,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ll bring you another cup, and your dry cleaning.”
“Then get going,” I say, pointing.
She spends the rest of the day like that, running from errand to errand for me while I find every excuse to ensure that she knows she’s not performing to my standards. Women like Evangeline need to be broken down like horses, according to our father. Defiance will stay in their eyes until you squash it, and I can still see her determination.
It irritates me, getting under my skin. The more I order her around, the more determined she seems to be to prove me wrong.
I know she’s just a maid, but girls like her don’t belong in places like this. She clearly lacks the grace and breeding to serve in a place like Shadowvale Manor.
As she approaches me with a stack of papers that I ordered her to fetch, I frown. It’s starting to get late and I still haven’t broken her yet.
“I need you to thoroughly clean all the outdoor patio furniture, spraying them down and sanitizing them. We’re having a few guests around tomorrow and they need to be sparkling. After that, you need to prepare a luncheon for the guests, and then I need you to polish all the silverware.”
“I’m supposed to be off-duty by seven,” Evangeline points out. “I couldn’t possibly get all that done by then.”
“Looks like you’ll have to stay up, then,” I say, crossing my arms. “It’s vital for this to be done before tomorrow.”
“Can’t I wake up early to complete it?” she asks, a whine in her voice. The sound grates on me, and I lean forward, eyes flashing dangerously.
“No, get it all done. Now!” I bark, snapping my fingers.
Evangeline looks at me with a mix of despair and frustration, tears in her eyes. As her frustrations begin to boil over, a pang of guilt rises. The darker side of my psyche is satisfied seeing the cracks begin to form, but another part of me, some deep part, is wondering if this is what I genuinely want.
Before I can speak, Evangeline clenches her hands into fists and whirls around, stalking off as she mutters something under her breath.
Hours later, I approach her where she’s scrubbing grime off the wrought iron chairs in the garden in the dark.
“Pathetic,” I sneer, surveying the flooded patio. “Is this the best you can manage?”
Her eyes flash with defiance. “I’m done playing your games,” she declares, tossing the rag aside. “I don’t know what sick satisfaction you get from tormenting me, but I won’t stand for it. I’m not just your servant, Oliver. I’m a human being!”
She knocks a large, heavy sculpture off the table, which shatters on impact with the concrete. Her shoulders are shaking in anger as she confronts me.
“Miss Parker!” Fitz bellows, stepping onto the patio. “What is the meaning of all this?”
Her eyes widen and she steps back, a hand to her mouth.
“How dare you speak to Mr. Oliver that way?” Fitz says, suddenly icy calm. He steps toward her, forcing her to back up. “You are indeed his servant, and you are to do whatever it is he asks. Apologize to Mr. Oliver at once, or I shall dismiss you and your things will be tossed out.”
“No, please,” Evangeline says with a small sob. “I’m sorry. I need this job. I can’t go back home. I’m sorry.”
