7. Whitley Whitt

Chapter 7

Whitley Whitt

Beauty and the bossturd.

“I feel like a princess,” Maria says, and my lips tug into an involuntary grin, since I feel less like a princess and more like a murder-bent peasant.

Connor has lost his mind if he thinks I’m wearing this. I stare at the outfit—ensemble? The thing has more ruffles than a Gone with the Wind reenactment and there are hose, and I don’t even mean like pantyhose.

“How the hell are these supposed to stay up?” I mutter, holding up the diaphanous fabric to the light filtering through the parlor window. This has got to be some kind of sick joke.

“Oh, girl, those go with the suspenders, and you’re supposed to wear a garter belt.” Maria holds up some sort of lacy piece of material with string-like things hanging.

“Please tell me you’re fucking with me,” I grumble.

She peels out a laugh, her dark eyes twinkling as she flicks her long dark-brown hair behind her.

It’s been a handful of days since I braved a visit to Mr. O’Doyle’s study.

Once I got away from him long enough to think, I realized I really need to get over myself. Three months’ room and board while keeping up with a handful of guests is a dream job to most. Turning down the same job with a thirty-thousand-dollar bonus is crazy pants. I should be grateful for the opportunity, whether the man is an asshole or not, which is why I want to apologize. At least, I did until I got a look at this dress.

I glance around the parlor room at all the boxes awaiting the rest of The Staff. Everyone has a costume as per Mr. O’Doyle’s direction. Scrutinizing my dress once more, I wonder what kind of coverage the lace is going to be. I look down at my Guns and Roses shirt and sigh. This is my nightmare come to life.

“Oh, Anton is going to love this, eeek!” Maria squeals, holding the maid costume to her chest. At least hers seems to have more chest area. “Look how cute it is!”

My face pulls into a grimace at what she calls cute . I guess it’s cute if you really like to cosplay.

“I don’t have the shoes for this. Are there shoes?” I ask, since I’ve really got to do something about my footwear supply.

Maria glances around at all the boxes that we’ve been opening and bends to look in another. “Umm, I don’t think so. Do you think there are more boxes coming?”

“No idea.” I inwardly fume.

More staff begin filtering into the room, their expressions curious and eager. I can’t honestly be the only one not into this, right? I watch as one of the younger waiters slaps another on the back, gripping his shoulder.

“I guess I’m going to take mine to my room and try it on. See you later, Whitley,” Maria says, before grabbing at Anton’s arm and pulling him along with her.

I sigh heavily, pick up the hefty box barely containing my bundle of frills, and make my way out the door.

“You have another here, Miss Whitt,” someone calls out, and I turn back to see who it is.

“Here you go,” Allan says, approaching me with a smaller box and stacking it on top of the one in my arms. “You’re one of the only staff who got two boxes.”

Shouts of laughter fill the space, and my agitation increases.

“Lucky me,” I deadpan and turn away, needing to get out of the room and away from people.

Twenty minutes later, I’m cursing Connor O’Doyle to hell and back for making me wear something like this. I don’t even own a dress, and here I am, wearing a corset and stockings.

My phone pings in my pocket and a frown pulls at my brows once I get a look at the notification. An email from O’Doyle Rules himself.

Subject: Gala Costumes and Team Meeting

Dear Staff Members,

I’m sure by now everyone has received their costumes and has tried them on, and I am excited to say there is more news.

Please be advised that the animatronics located around the castle, mainly on the first and second floor, are in the testing phases. They may startle you if you’re unaware. These tests will begin this afternoon but shouldn’t last terribly long.

A meeting will be held in the ballroom in an hour to provide further information on what will be required of you in the upcoming weeks, as well as information about the festivities afterwards.

Many thanks for your continued cooperation,

Mr. Connor O’Doyle

Ma?tre d’, Castle Tepesh

I shoot him a brief email back and try to control my breathing.

Re: Subject: Gala Costumes and Team Meeting

Dear Mr. O’Doyle,

With the deepest respect, I’m afraid I must decline wearing a costume during my tenure.

Kind regards,

Whitley Whitt

Head Chef, Castle Tepesh

I adjust the embroidered corset that peeks between the fabric of the dress covering it. I have so many questions about how or who decided to take our measurements for this gig, because I will admit the costume is beautiful, but this corset is obscene. My boobs are squished so tight I can only take short breaths.

Re: Subject: Gala Costumes and Team Meeting

Miss Whitt,

I’m afraid it is impossible for you to decline, as all staff are required to be in full costume regalia.

In one hour, I expect you to be in your costume and prepared for dress rehearsal in the ballroom.

Connor O’Doyle

Ma?tre d’, Castle Tepesh.

Oh, this asshole has got to be kidding me.

Re: Subject: Gala Costumes and Team Meeting

I urge you to reconsider. There is a reason that corsets went out of style centuries ago.

Whitley Whitt

Head Chef, Castle Tepesh

I take a deep breath and some part of this female-constricting device bites into my ribs as I try to think of a way to explain the many reasons why this is a bad idea. I’m coming up empty, other than the fact that I don’t want my tits to be half falling out and that this strange undergarment is riding so far up my ass it wants to know what I had for breakfast.

Before I can think of anything else less embarrassing, another email comes through.

Re: Subject: Gala Costumes and Team Meeting

Miss Whitt,

I’m sure even as I am typing this email, you are attempting to come up with some rebuttal to dissuade me from insisting you wear the provided costume. I have no doubt you are attempting to use the word “force,” and in this, you would be correct. Tepesh Castle is charting into new territory, which may be upsetting for some, as change often is. However, all employees are required to be outfitted in costume. Meaning, no one will be receiving special or differential treatment.

I hope you will come to terms with this.

Thank you so much for your thoughts, and I look forward to seeing you shortly.

Connor O’Doyle

Maitre d’, Castle Tepesh

I blow out a harsh breath and the thick corset eases its grip on me minutely. This is ridiculous and cruel on top of the usual punishment. I huff and lift the many layers of the dress until I can get a good look at my ankles, wondering how well they’re going to look in my worn black work shoes.

Half out of breath, I blow my bangs from my eyes and plant my hands on my hips in front of the mirror with a strained laugh.

“I guess the girls are coming out then.”

My heavy skirts swish with a hushing sound as I shuffle backwards and flop down onto the gray-and-blue comforter on my bed. A ribbon flies up out of nowhere, smacking me in the eye, and I wince. My side stitches and I have instant regret.

Ugh . I suck in a shallow breath and shuffle around awkwardly to prop myself up on my pillows.

No way am I going to change out of this thing, only to have to get right back in it.

My spiral of murderous thoughts pauses when the nearby fire glints off the gold buckle of my suitcase which contains all my makeup. My lips curve into a slow grin.

I’ll make him wish he never even said the word costume.