To Seduce a Butler (Yaoi/BoyXBoy)

Chapter Four--Sam

Sam fiddled with the bread basket, arranging the rolls in a pyramid. He needed the presentation to be just right. 

"Does this look okay? Maybe it's a bit too Egyptian for a country-themed dinner."

Sonia shook her head. She stretched out a hand and knocked over all the rolls into the napkin. "Calm down, string bean. Ms. Day doesn't care how they're arranged."

"But last time, I made them a bit beyond brown, a few levels before hard as a rock. If I screw up again, she might kick my ass to the curb."

"Nah. She hasn't screwed your sorry ass, so she won't kick it out just yet."

He bit the inside of his cheek. Sam had heard his new employer loved to sleep with the help. It was the only reason he was able to get the job so easily after applying with the staffing agency. But he hoped to curtail her advances long enough to save enough money to get a place of his own and live a few months without having to worry about rent while he looked for another job.

Sonia placed a pitcher of tea in his hands. "Go--" her voice cracked. "Your nose bleeding?"

Sam grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his nose with the corner. Removing it, he saw a bright red stain. "Great. Of all times. Did anything get on my suit?"

"Doesn't look like it." The maid took the pitcher and hurried to the door. "I'll take care of this. You take care of that. Don't need you bleeding all over the fried chicken."

He plopped down and squeezed his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He leaned forward slightly. This was the third nosebleed this week, but until now, he'd managed to have them in the safety of his room.

What's wrong with me?

Sonia came back. "You better? 'Cause Ms. Day's asking why the buffet table isn't set. And if she comes in here, the jaws of life couldn't pry you from her grubby hands."

Drawing away his fingers, he turned his head to the side and asked Sonia if there were any traces of blood. 

She gave him the once over, declared him fit to be seen and they finished with dinner preparations.

Not long after, the Day family appeared one-by-one. Mr. Day, as usual, had his nose to his phone. The trading day might have ended, but he was analyzing reports and reading articles about whether or not the day had been a bull or bear one for the market.

Mrs. Day sat to the right of her husband, Michael to the left. Michael unfolded his napkin on his lap, then reached for a roll. Sam was annoyed that he hadn't looked at him since entering the room. 

While Sonia served the fried chicken, Sam dolloped mashed potatoes and gravy onto the plates.

"I hoped you two didn't use real butter on these potatoes," Ms. Day teased.

"It wouldn't affect you one bit if we did," Sam reassured.

Ms. Day giggled. Out of the corner of his eyes, Sam caught Michael rolling his. 

Would it kill you to be nice to anyone?

When Sam moved to set Ms. Day's plate before her, she reached underneath the table and skipped her fingers across his thigh. Inwardly, he sighed. He must have been a sinner in a past life to end up working for a family so strung out on sex.

"I hope you find the food to your liking," he said, ignoring her petting.

"Sonia's doing a good job with you," she responded.

Michael coughed, getting everyone's attention but his dad's. He raised his glass. "I need a refill."

Mrs. Day gestured towards the pitcher. "You could get it yourself."

"But that's what Sam's here for."

"Sonia's here, too. You could have asked for her."

"Maybe Sam knows just how I like my tea, dear. Old. Mom."

The maid and the butler exchanged glances. Mother and son were involved in a pissing battle over Sam. Sonia looked like she was about to collapse in fits of laughter. The corners of her lips turned up sporadically, but she was fighting to keep them straight. Sam's own lips were pulled into a tight line. He needed a little space.

"There's hardly any tea in the pitcher. I'll be right back."

Once in the kitchen, he leaned on the island and exhaled though his mouth. Mrs. Day was barking up the wrong tree. Sam had known since he was ten that he didn't like girls. 

But Michael? He was arrogant and brash and didn't care about anyone's feelings but his own. What made him think that Sam would be interested?

On cue, Michael came into the kitchen. Sam stepped back. "Master Michael, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be loafing."

"I should be the one apologizing."

"For what?"

"You and I both know for what. What I did yesterday was a dick move on my part. And I want to make it up to you."

Sam's eyebrows drew together. "How?"