Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

Bradleyand I walked down the cold hallway in complete silence. Looking down at my feet, I couldn't help but watch myself walk. My shoes were just like his—padded, with some kind of foam-like material. When I rubbed my finger against the bottom, I could tell it was coated with something…

Something to make sure it emitted no noise.

"Why is everything so quiet here?" I breathed out in a hushed whisper as we turned into yet another constricted hallway. I noticed it was warmer as we moved closer to the main area of the estate.

"What do you mean?" Bradley looked at me as if I asked the most ridiculous question on earth.

"The shoes, the doors… I mean, you keep quieting me." I stopped and crossed my arms. "You basically only talk in a whisper, as did the rest of the Ivory family."

"Miss Rao, I urge you to understand one simple rule in this house: you must never question anything the Ivory family does. You must never ask questions, you must never even think twice about the way things are managed here. You don't come from anything, so this," he paused and waved his arms around us, "this must all feel abnormal to you, but darling, this is absolutely customary for the wealthy. Truthfully, the only anomalous aspect about this now, is you." He bopped my nose and I swear, if I didn't have this new job lined up, I'd have slit his damn throat.

‘Sissy!' As soon as the thought came through my mind, I heard her voice and flinched.

"What did you call me?" I gasped and looked at Bradley. He didn't look scared or nervous; he just smiled again. A smile that had chills running down my arm.

"Oh, they really did find the perfect fit for this job." He grew so close to me that his minty breath brushed against my face. "Don't ever show them that you're insane." He winked at me.

"I'm… I'm not…" I began to ramble, but Bradley didn't even look at me.

I rushed to follow after him as he walked. "Don't mess this up," Bradley whispered as he pushed open enormous, intricately designed doors.

They had a stunning shine to them, unlike most of the rest of the home, which mostly had an unnerving matte finish. Once the doors were flung open, I couldn't even believe what my eyes were taking in. The table had at least twelve stunning, velvet emerald chairs, a glossy black table—which was the first non-white piece of furniture I'd seen in the house. The room had gold walls, and it almost reminded me of Raina's house. Speaking of, I really hoped I'd be able to make my way back to her house to tell her I got the job and to thank her for her kindness. If she hadn't picked me up and loaned me the clothes, I may not have been here. I may have been piling grocery bags together to craft a makeshift pillow for a wet park bench.

No one was here yet, besides four women dressed in matching knee-length, white dresses holding silver platters.

"You sit here." Bradley pointed to a seat. I sank into the plush chair, and he walked to the other end of the table. As maddening as he was, I really didn't want him to leave me alone at the opposite side of the table. Who was going to sit next to me? I looked down at the silverware as immense anxiety filled me.

There were three forks, two knives, and two spoons. I didn't even know how to eat. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked at the largest knife. Brushing my index finger against it, I felt moisture build in my eyes.

‘Sissy!'

I puffed out a breath of air and slammed my eyes shut.

"Miss Rao?"

Turning slowly, I looked into Mrs. Ivory's light-green eyes. Her blonde hair was down in shiny loose curls. I didn't realize her hair was that long when it was pinned up earlier. Pearls were strung around her neck, and the pale pink gown she wore looked like it belonged on the red carpet, not in their dining room. "Hello," I let out, feeling relieved. They had a stunning, color-filled room, and Mrs. Ivory was wearing pink. Who cares if they had some strangely, sterile preference in how their employees and house looked?

And then, Mrs. Ivory leaned down, held my head between her gloved hands, and kissed the top of my head.

"We are thrilled to have you join our family. Our employees are not just employees; they are truly family to us. Isn't that right, Conrad?" She didn't turn—and we didn't hear him come in—but there he was, dressed in a stunning navy-blue tuxedo, approaching us.

Unlike my sister, my skin was lighter and showed when I blushed. His mother glanced between us with a lifted brow. "Conrad, your seat is right beside Demi." Mrs. Ivory gave me a small grin, which caused me to drop my eyes out of sheer embarrassment.

Was it that obvious I was drooling over her son? This wasn't good. She may think it's precious at this moment, but it'll all change as soon as I'm dressed in a maid's uniform with my hands in her toilet bowl.

I cleared my throat. "Thank you, Mrs. Ivory, for hiring me. I promise I'll do anything you need me to do."

"Well, we will remember those famous words, won't we, dear?" Dr. Ivory's hands planted on his wife's as he looked down at me. I should have stood, especially since this was such an awkward angle.

Conrad took the seat next to me as his parents cradled one another and stared down at me. "I'm so happy you're here, Demi. Truly." Mrs. Ivory leaned down once more and kissed the top of my head.

I know most people would have found this peculiar, but I don't think someone had ever kissed me lovingly like that… The small gesture was so powerful, it terrified me. I couldn't afford to be vulnerable; I couldn't afford to think my employer would actually care about me.

No, I wouldn't set myself up for heartbreak and disappointment. This was a job and a safe place to live, nothing more.

"Thank you for this opportunity, Dr. and Mrs. Ivory; I am really grateful."

Dr. Ivory scoffed in a way that made me feel humiliated. "Excited to clean up feces and urine," he said under his breath as he walked away. Turning slowly back around, I kept my eyes on the plate in front of me.

"I'm sorry about him," Conrad murmured so low I could barely hear him. I didn't dare lift my eyes at him. My cheeks were now warm, not because I felt some kind of crush on my new employers' son, but because he was consoling me after his dad just humiliated me.

The worst part was he wasn't degrading me; he was speaking the truth. I was about to scrub a bunch of rich people's toilets. Here I was, sitting in a gown after taking the first real shower with real bath products in ages, thinking I was some beauty queen.

Racing thoughts replaying those embarrassing moments ran through my mind, and I paused. A door on the opposing wall that blended into the dark, navy walls swung open and, one by one, women came out wearing short, white sheath dresses, carrying platters of food. My blood froze as I stared at them gliding in sync. They were all thin, Caucasian, with short, neatly brushed blonde hair and green eyes. None of them had any ounce of makeup on, but they all looked meticulously… clean. Their collarbones and jaws all protruded enough to make me think twice, but not enough to say they were being starved or something irrational like that.

But wasn't this crazy? Wasn't this family kind of outrageous? I looked over at Mrs. Ivory, who smiled and clapped excitedly with her eyes on the women. Or rather, girls.

And just like that, a light sound emitted through the dining room, something magical and majestic. A harp? And that's when the lights dimmed and one in particular dropped brightly on a woman in a long, golden gown.

She was beautiful; her hair was blonde, but unlike everyone else's, you could see her original dark brown roots growing out. Her thin, long fingers strummed against the harp strings, crafting a stunning melody. My heart began to race as music danced through the darkened room. I hate music. Clenching my eyes shut, I realized this house was so appealing to me because of the silence. There wasn't noise covering up?—

"That's Misha." Conrad dipped toward me. "She'll be making it out soon," he added.

Looking at him and seeing his outline, I tilted my head. "Making it out?" I questioned. What a strange way to word it. But Conrad didn't say anything more; instead, his eyes stayed on Misha.

"What was her job here?" My voice sounded needy, and the urgency was easily noticeable.

Conrad sighed and leaned back into his chair. "You're replacing her, Demi."

But why was their previous housekeeper dressed up and playing the harp?

Suddenly, it occurred to me… They weren't celebrating me joining their staff, they were celebrating Misha making it out.

But making it out from what?