Seasoning House

3. Oil spill

I walked in the direction that the overly scrawny women's boney finger pointed in.

The hall had many dim light sources and family portraits all over, as I realized the handless large white door was the kitchen I stopped for a second to look at the final, and newest portrait on the wall. Although The rich have the means to get anything electronic all these pictures are painted rather than snapped on a camera.

This portrait was two people, a young man and woman. They both held bitter expressions and almost looked angry. I slowly reached up and touched the canvas. The man looked to be a tween boy, possibly next to his sister.

"Hey!" A voice called out startling me.

I pulled my hand from the expensive picture and turned behind me to see a woman dress in white aprons holding open the kitchen door.

"Clementine?" She asked.

"Yes." I nodded quickly.

"Here ya go, here's your list of chores to be done everyday in this exact order, I added where you can find the supplies and what wing of the house you should be on, and I put Jofree's schedule on there so you can find him if you have a question." She smiled while placing the list in my hand, more of a small pamphlet than a list.

"Thank you so much, but who's Jofree?" I asked her.

"Mr.Styles most trusted Butler, he's been with the Styles family since before Mr. Styles was born." She answered.

"Oh, thank you. If you don't mind me asking, you're the cook correct? Why did you make my list?" I asked curiously.

"I just upgraded to chefs assistant, I use to organize all the papers and files." She smiled.

"Oh thank you, I guess I should go finish this before it gets too late." I nodded at her and walked back to the main entrance without another word.

***

I got to the manor around one, and before I knew it the clock had already hit nine-thirty. It had began to get dark outside when I was finally on my last chore. I would have finished sooner, but I got lost so many times in the huge home looking for cleaning supplies it was ridiculous. Still I managed and my drench in sweat self finally dried and got a breather from my last chore, sitting on the white marble floor down the stairs of the main entrance scrubbing the ground. Still, when I started thinking I was the only maid in this whole house I kept bumping into other women and men also rushing around and cleaning.

I looked up at the sound of many steps and watched as what looked like fifty other cleaners walking down the step putting on coats, and leaving to their families for the day, unlike me whom is staying every week to serve the home, then going home on the weekends.

A few minutes later of scrubbing I felt an intimidating presence in the room, I felt so uneasy I didn't wanna look up at the steps coming down the stairs, to where I was scrubbing at. A remaining maid ran over to me at the end of the steps and handed me a clean white rag, and bottle of shoe oil.

I pushed the water bucket and scrubber aside taking the objects and staring at them when suddenly the steps stopped right in front of the maid and I.

I looked at the large leather loafers on the last step of the stairs and felt a dark presence. My eyes trailed up, passing the long legs dressed in black slacks, passing the long torso in a black jacket and under shirt, then landed on the mans surprisingly beautiful face, despite his bitter expression staring straight. I was knocked out of my trance when the blonde women from earlier walked by holding a phone reading off times and places, I'm assuming telling the man his schedule.

"Okay, then how long is that one?" The man spoke to the woman, not acknowledging us at his feet. He spoke in a deep, raspy British accent throwing me off guard.

The other maid nudged me, I realized I was staring and watched as she dabbed her rag in oil and began shinning his right shoe, I carefully dabbed my rag and followed her motions on his left shoe.

I went back to the bottle to get more oil when the other maid did too our hands collided knocking the bottle of oil down and drenching the mans right shoe, on the other maids side.

I began to open my mouth to apologize, when the maid flew backwards as his foot met her face with a hard kick. I froze in place.

"YOU STUPID BITCH!" He screamed at her, I set there staring at her rocking back in forth holding her face screaming in pain, her three bloody teeth were noticeable on the white floor.

"GET HER OUT!" He screamed at his blonde assistant, she didn't hesitate to grab the women's hand, helping her off the floor, and they both walked out the door, probably taking her out the gates.

Silence fell in the room, and my heart began beating so hard out of fear I thought he could hear it.

"Fix it." He said angrily through clenched teeth, not looking at me once.

Without thinking about it I used the end of my dress to completely dry his shoes, and carefully polished it with a drop of oil. He stood there for about two minutes as I scrubbed the oil off the floor, and the woman's bloody teeth. As I stood to go dump the bucket, I froze in place feeling his burning gaze on me.

Slowly I turned around and looked at him, I only looked into his eyes long enough to see they were a nice green, I couldn't physically look longer with my eyes hurting from his killer stare.

"Who are you? I've never seen you here." He asked, stepping off the steps and towards me, my stomach clinched.

"Clementine Adams, sir." I answered as steadily as I could.

"Oh, you're the Adams daughter," he said with a puff and chuckle.

I nodded slightly, still looking at his shoes.

"It's not polite to stare at things." He said as he suddenly took my chin in his right hand lifting my face to look into his eyes, I felt as though he knew everything about me the second he looked at me.

"Hmm, you're a cute thing." He smirked

I must have shown a sign of fear because he broke out in laughter at my expression, releasing me.

"Oh I've got plans for you." He said with a slightly sinister side smile before his assistant came back through the front door.

"She's gone, we really must go now or we'll be late for your meeting, Mr. Styles." She told him, my eyes widened at the realization that he's MR. STYLES.

"Have a good sleep, doll." He winked at me before walking out the door with blondie.

Mr. Styles is my boss, the house owner, and just also happen to be a cruel man. Why did I think this was going to be a good idea.