Dark Matter [Completed]

Seven

The Orion's arrival is rather anticlimactic. There's no ceremony; they just come in the front door and go up to their rooms. I don't even get a chance to see them. There is one small hiccup, though. At the last moment Alastair decided to stay in Paris, and it doesn't look like he's coming any time soon. Honestly, it's only a minor inconvenience. I don't mind an excuse to see less of Boris. I will have to get the serum back to Alex, but that isn't a problem.

So Saturday goes by with no sign of Olivia or Lucius. The other maids are somewhat distraught that they didn't get a glimpse of Lucius. I really don't understand it. I mean, sure he's good-looking, but that boy has heartbreaker written all over him. These girls must know they'll never get more than a one night stand. Hey, maybe that's enough for some girls, but it seems stupid to me. Not that I know anything about actually being in a relationship.

Still, I play along and lament the tragic lack of boy watching. Mrs. D, however, is a no nonsense kind of woman and puts a quick stop to the moaning. And by putting a stop to the whining, I mean putting us to work. Thanks girls.

Directly after breakfast the next morning, I'm tasked with unpacking the Orion's bags so James and Cameron, the footmen, can take the cases up to the attics. In typical male fashion they are no help at all with the actual unpacking. And Allie is annoyed with me because I got assigned to unpack Lucius' cases. I just have to ask... what is so great about rifling through a strange guy's clothes? I'm on my second suitcase and I still haven't figured it out.

And speaking of suitcases, Lucius has to have enough crap to fill a department store. Where does he find the time to wear it all? Like, is he changing every few hours? Whatever the case is, it is yours truly who has to drag it all out and dump it down the laundry chute. At least every bedroom has its own. And I don't actually have to wash it all.

I don't know why they're bothering to wash it all. Half this stuff still has the tags on it. I guess if you're in Paris, and you have the money, you just can't leave without doing some shopping. Personally, as long as I'm comfortable I don't really care. But then again, I'm not the only child of one of the richest men in the world.

A small eternity later I finally zip the last suitcase back up and stack it outside the door for the footmen to carry away. I'm not technically supposed to, but I pull off my ridiculous, frilly cap and begin to fix my messy hair in the huge, full length mirror. If Mrs. D or Mr. Carlisle walked in right now, I would get a telling off, but my motto is "it's not illegal if you don't get caught".

Once I no longer look like I've been running through the woods, I begin to tidy up the room. Save myself having to come back and clean it later. I'm leaning over the bed, neatly tucking the blankets in, when I hear the door begin the creak open then stop. Could use some oil, pal. Now paying attention to my surroundings has become second nature to me, but a maid preoccupied making a bed wouldn't notice a door opening. So I pretend that I didn't hear anything and keep working.

After a moment the door creaks softly as the intruder slips quietly inside. Their footsteps are muffled by the thick, fluffy carpet, but I can sense them creeping up behind me. Still, I shriek and drop the throw pillow I'm holding when I turn around to find myself face to face with Lucius Orion.