1 Chapter 1

"Isabelle! Tea!" I heard a holler in the busy kitchen even with my ears almost deafened by the sound of gurgling food in the process of being cooked and my nose forced to inhale the smell of so much different dishes that it made me dizzy.

"For who?!" I wish Naomi, the head maid who called orders at myself and all the other maids, would've said so earlier because yelling in the kitchen was a task that could leave you without voice for days.

"The young master!" She called back.

I flinched at the recollection of the young master. Knowing he must've asked for me specifically and dreading what was so obviously about to commence.

Despite my shaking hands I prepared as a maid should. Tea, sugar and milk all piled nearly on a tray with cakes and biscuits on a separate tray, merely a decoration for the young master.

I caught the pitying eyes of Justin, a footman and a dear friend to me and looked away. Maybe it won't be so bad this time. Maybe he'll be in a better mood? The notion of that ever happening was ridiculous and merely a fantasy.

Going up the steps to his bedroom where he probably still lay, as he usually does until mid afternoon. I braced myself for it, steeling myself of emotion as I knocked on the door.

"Come in", the deep voice that called back was so obviously expecting me. The hate laced in the words so obvious.

I opened the door, eyes trained on my tray.

'Maids do not look directly at their masters'.

"Look at me".

'Unless ordered'...

I looked up at the usual image of the half naked boy, who couldn't be called a boy and yet that was all I saw. His blonde hair resembling his late mother's, captivating and beautiful. His unique red eyes like rubies as they glared at me and his beautiful face that it all complimented was sneering at me.

I didn't dare glance at the sculpted torso. Although I knew it would be just as beautiful the rest of himself.

"You're late", he gave me a smug smirk.

I wasn't.

"I'm sorry young master", I apologised.

'A maid apologises even when the fault is not hers'.

I placed the tray on the table near his bed and felt his eyes trained on me. I met them back with the look a maid must always give her master. A look of submission. A look that said I'm yours. This life of mine is yours.

He crinkled his face in disdain, "disgusting".

It didn't hurt if you had heard it enough.

He lifted the tea cup and then purposefully he dropped it on the floor.

"My... how clumsy you are for a maid", he drawled as the burning hot tea scalded the feet and soaked the rim of my dress along with the carpet. I didn't flinch. I would never.

A familiar anger brew in me before I quickly killed it. Don't care. Do not care.

I lowered myself to the ground, kneeling on the steaming carpet, soaking my dress further.

"Please forgive me young master. I've committed a mistake unworthy of forgiveness", I was so used to this, so utterly used to this.

"Whose forgiveness", his leg came in my field of view and pressed on my thigh. He pressed so hard it was as if he was standing on the bone that threatened to crack.

"Y-Yours of course".

"Well..." he lifted the leg, satisfied with the answer, "make me another cup".

Thus it began.