Without thinking, I pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry,” I murmured into her hair, my heart breaking for her. “I had no idea.” Rachel leaned into me, her body trembling slightly as she clung to me. The warmth of her body against mine was a stark contrast to the cold fear that had gripped my heart.
“You can’t tell anyone,” she whispered, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “Please, Emma. If he finds out, he’ll hurt me, or worse.”
I nodded, stroking her hair gently. “I promise, Rachel,” I murmured, my voice filled with determination. “I won’t say a word.”
With a deep breath, Rachel pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Now, we should get back to work before someone notices we’re gone.”
I nodded, a lump forming in my throat as I took in the gravity of Rachel’s confession. The mansion’s glamorous facade was beginning to crumble, revealing the dark underbelly of manipulation and control that had been hidden beneath the surface. I knew I had to be careful, to navigate the treacherous waters of Mr. Luca’s desires without compromising myself.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur as Rachel and I worked tirelessly to ensure the dinner was perfect. The tension between Mr. Harrison and his brother was palpable, a silent battle of wills that filled the air with an electric charge. I tried my best to avoid Mr. Luca’s gaze, focusing on my duties and keeping my thoughts on Rachel’s warning.
When Mr. Harrison’s fiancee finally arrived, I felt a mix of relief and dread. She was a stunning woman, with hair the color of honey and eyes that sparkled like diamonds. She swept into the room like a queen, her laughter tinkling through the air as she greeted everyone with the grace of a seasoned socialite. I watched from a safe distance, my heart in my throat as she embraced Mr. Harrison, her hand lingering on his back a moment too long.
Mr. Harrison looked at me over her shoulder, his eyes dark with an emotion I couldn’t quite read. Was it anger? Jealousy? Or something else entirely? He gave me a sweet smile, before kissing her on the lips, and I felt a pang of something akin to loss. I had allowed myself to get too involved, to believe that the line between us was blurred. But now it was stark, a chasm that separated us into our proper places.
Turning away from the spectacle, I made my way to the kitchen, my mind racing with thoughts. As I approached, I saw Nora, the head housekeeper, bustling around, her usual stern demeanor replaced by a rare look of anxiety. She was arranging a tray of hors d’oeuvres with shaky hands, her eyes darting towards the door as if expecting to be caught at any moment.
Rachel, Naomi, and Lily were also there, their expressions a mirror of the tension that gripped the mansion. Stella, the youngest maid, looked up at me with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed. “Are you okay, Emma?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m fine,” I lied, my heart still racing. Rachel gave me a knowing look, her eyes filled with sympathy. She knew the truth, she had seen the way Mr. Harrison had looked at me, knew the secret we shared.
“Come, help us,” Rachel said, her voice gentle as she took the tray from Nora’s shaking hands. “The night is still young.”
I nodded, stepping into the kitchen, trying to shake off the feeling of sadness that clung to me like a wet blanket. The room was a flurry of activity, with the other maids moving about efficiently, setting out the dishes for dessert. Rachel’s eyes met mine, filled with a silent understanding that made me feel a little less alone. I took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand, arranging the delicate pastries and fruit tarts with meticulous care.
Suddenly, Mrs. Luisana, the mansion’s matriarch, bustled into the room, her smile as sharp as the knives we used to carve the roast. “Emma,” she said, her voice like a whip crack. “Mr. Harrison wants you to serve his girlfriend personally.”
I stared at her, my heart dropping into my stomach. “Me?” I squeaked, unable to believe what I was hearing. Rachel’s eyes widened in shock, her hand stalling mid-air with a plate of delicate berries.
“Yes, you,” Mrs. Luisana said firmly, her eyes never leaving mine. “You’ve proven yourself capable, and Mr. Harrison has taken quite a liking to you. It’s high time you started earning your keep.”
Nodding obediently, I took the tray from Rachel’s trembling hands. Her eyes were filled with a mix of pity and fear, as if she knew what lay ahead for me. The weight of the silver dish was surprisingly heavy, the delicate china feeling fragile under my fingertips. Each step I took towards the dining room felt like a step closer to the edge of a cliff, my heart racing with every footfall.
The conversation in the dining room grew hushed as I approached, the only sound the clink of silverware against fine china. Mr. Harrison’s fiancee, Miss Adrianne, sat at the head of the table, her eyes scanning me from head to toe with a cold, assessing gaze. She was a picture of poise and sophistication, the perfect complement to Mr. Harrison’s own refined demeanor.
I quickly went to her side and dropped the tray, bowing my head. “Is there anything else you wish for, Ma’am?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. I felt the weight of her gaze like a physical pressure, making it difficult to breathe.
Miss Adrianne’s laugh was light and musical, sending another wave of dread through me. “Why, no, Emma,” she said, her eyes scanning the tray. “This will do just fine. Thank you for your attentiveness.”
I didn’t dare look at Harrison or her, I just nodded and started moving towards the kitchen, my legs feeling like they were made of jelly. Rachel’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “she murmured, her eyes full of encouragement. “Just keep your head down and your mouth shut.” Before I could walk further, Mr. Luca’s voice stopped me. “Emma,” he called, his tone a silky caress that made my skin crawl. I turned around, my eyes meeting his hungry gaze. “Could you bring me a fresh drink, my dear?”
My stomach twisted into knots, but I managed to force a smile. “Of course, Mr. Luca,” I said, my voice as sweet as honey. I walked over to him, trying not to spill the drinks on the way. As I reached for his empty glass, his hand shot out, his thumb grazing the inside of my wrist. A jolt of electricity shot through me, and I had to bite back a gasp. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and intimate, making it clear that the touch had been deliberate.