Maid for the Millionaire by Javier Reinheart Page B

straight at my peeping face. No longer holding the million unique thoughts, they instead focused on the strange girl spying his half dressed self. I panicked, practically leaping away from the window. So much for first impressions.
    I unpacked the rest of my things, taking careful note not to look out the window again. Helen arrived right before I finished, carrying my uniform in her arms. She urged me to try it on in the bathroom immediately. There, standing on the cool stone stiles, I modeled for myself. It was a puffy little outfit: frilly lace skirt and a black bodice complete with cute little pink bows lining the hem. It looked and felt distinguished, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling I wouldn’t be out of place in a maid-centric porno. I wasn’t bothered; fancy clothes like these were a rarity and they showed off my curves rather well. I could get used to this.
    “How does it feel dear?” Helen questioned through the bathroom door.
    “It’s a little tight up front.”
    Wrinkles spread across her face as she scowled.
    “It used to be mine.”
    Oops.
    “I’ll see if I can get it adjusted later. I’ll leave you to your things, we start tomorrow morning at 5am sharp.”
    Maybe I should have said nothing at all.
     
    Mr. Carawell and I never crossed paths the entire week. Instead, I found myself in the empty rooms, trying my best to stay in the shadows while I cleaned. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of Mr. Carawell or his wife walking from one room to the next; often with a whole cabinet of servants following them. These casual glances only fed my curiosity; I had never held a job before where I never met my boss. I wanted to greet him, get to know him, understand him. But he was untouchable, always with Mrs. Carawell or an assistant. What made it worse was the fact that aside from that first night through the annex window, he had never even glanced in my direction. I was a shadow in his mansion.
    During my off hours I would often go down to the stable to talk with James as he tended to the horses. We would catch up on each other’s days, kick back and relax with some beer to unwind from the fancy environment. I tried my best to pry more information about our boss from him, but James was just as clueless. Occasionally, he provided bits of gossip that I obsessed over.
    “Have you seen Mrs. Carawell lately? Cid is telling me that she’s been fed up with Victor. There might even be a separation.”
    I felt my heart pound at the prospect of a single Mr. Carawell, even though my mind kept telling me why it meant nothing. I was confused as to why I felt this way about such an older man. I was a college graduate with no money, a plain face, and little to offer to a man like Victor. If he was used to women of Mrs. Carawell’s caliber, there was no way I could ever hope to compare. Still, my mind ran wild with fantasies of him coming into my bedroom late at night and having his way with me. I didn’t share my secret with James.
    “Huh. I wonder if she’s going to do it before the Lockheart dinner party. Everyone is already stressed out as is.”
    “Let’s hope she waits.”
    I hope she waited too. From dawn to dusk, it seemed all that everyone talked about was the upcoming dinner party in hopes of securing a new account for Mr. Carawell’s portfolio. No one talked the exact specifics of the deal, but there were rumors of a thousand dollar bonus to all staff if the night ran smoothly. It wasn’t exactly charity money, but I still found his respect towards his staff endearing.
    “They are looking for extra hands on deck. I can put in a good word for you if you want it.”
    Standing at attention during dinner and serving. Placing napkins on laps. Refilling wine glasses. I could do that!
    “Oh James, that’d be fantastic! Thank you so much!”
    As I gave him a friendly hug, I thought about what this opportunity meant. I’d be in the same room as Mr. Carawell for an entire evening. Back against the wall and