chapter 7

Emma

Martha informed Emma that Mr. and Mrs. King were returning from a business trip and that she would introduce her to them. She was tensed with expectation. Martha also advised her to keep her manners as best she could.

Emma hurriedly rushed to wash her hands and clean herself, knowing that if the kings saw her with filthy hands and beads of sweat glittering on her forehead, she would be expelled.

"Emma! Where are you?" Martha yelled for her. Emma dashed towards her. "There you are. Come on, you've got to be quick. Mr. and Mrs. King are here, and if we do not properly greet them, they will be enraged," she spoke at a rapid speed. Emma followed her into the living room with a tip of her head. And when she arrived, she noticed a lady seated on the sofa, a man in his late 50s sitting beside her, discussing something with her, and Emma standing behind Martha, feeling extremely anxious.

"Hello sir and madam, I'm happy you made it here safely," Martha said politely to them. "Hello Martha, how has the house been? We didn't have time to call you since the moment we left," said the lady. Emma saw Mrs. King smiling at Martha from the corner of her eye while Mr. King was on his phone.

She was relieved that his gaze was not on her yet, and she took advantage of the opportunity to assess the lady's look. The woman was stunning. She appeared to be in her late forties, yet the smoothness of her complexion and the elegancy of her luxury clothing gave her the appearance of being effortlessly beautiful. Her eyes were honey-coated, the most stunning hazel-colored eyes she'd ever seen.

"Who's this behind you, Martha?" She questioned, pulling Emma out of her concentration, and she froze in place. She was becoming increasingly tense. She felt out of place and worse standing in front of them.

"Oh, ma'am, this is Emma. she is the new maid here. I had told you about her employment," Martha said. She moved aside so that Mrs. King could see her. Her face had turned red as she took a step forward, looking down.

"H-hello ma'am, hello s-sir," she said stutteringly. She cursed under her breath for stuttering just as Martha shot her a look of disapproval.

"Hello dear, how are you doing?" Mrs. King asked her with a heart-warming smile which she gladly returned. "I-I'm good," she replied quietly.

"Well, I don't like people who pathetically stutters in their every sentence," Mr. King spat.

"I'm sorry, sir," she apologized profusely. She had never felt so humiliated in her entire life. Not even when she used to wander about hostel halls in nothing but her undergarments on the harshest winter evenings because the seniors encouraged her to do so to demonstrate her deference to them.

He just gave her a cold stare and nodded his head while Mrs. King gave her a sad smile.

"You both should get back to work and Martha please cancel all the calls and meetings. We're very tired and want to rest for a few hours and at exactly 8 pm I want our dinner ready," she said smiling, and walked away with her husband. Emma sighed deeply. She felt as if she could not do anything without messing things up.

"It's okay honey. You don't have to be sad. Master has been like this. Don't be sad, just make sure you behave properly in front of him next time," Martha said patting her on the shoulder.

"How is Mrs. King?" Emma asked following her towards the kitchen.

"She is a very nice woman with a very welcoming nature. She is always nice to all of us in every situation. She has never been arrogant and treats us very well," she replied.  I see, Mrs. King sounds like a nice woman.

Emma thought to herself.

"So, all of their children are like their father?" She asked again.

Martha paused what she was doing and turned around, "Master Alexander is the exact copy of his father, they both are the same. Ignorant and arrogant. And as well as Sofia and Lucas. They both are arrogant and rich brats who care for none other than themselves," she replied.

Lucas must be the one who was at the dining table when I dropped the glass full of water on Miss Sofia on my very first day.

"Except for one," she said all of a sudden snapping Emma out of her deep thoughts.

"Who?" She questioned.

"Liam. He is just like Mrs. King, more like a shadow of her. He's kind-hearted just like his mother and the second heir of the king's family and after that Luca and Sofia were born. I remember when I first entered this house. I was just 25 years old. Ma'am helped me with so many things and Liam treated me like his second mother. He is a true example of a gentleman," Emma stayed silent listening to her blabbering. Is he that good?  She thought to herself.

Martha chuckled at Emma's awkwardness. "I'm sorry, dear, but I cannot stop myself from talking good about him, and guess what! He's coming to visit here soon!" with a toothy grin, she said.

Emma giggled at her juvenile behavior, but she quickly stopped when she realized someone was observing her. As she tilted her head and spotted Alexander standing at the kitchen door gazing at her, that strong unfamiliar emotion rushed over her body. Her eyes were just as startled as his scary ones. His eyes were no longer frigid as they had been; instead, they were soft. Her pulse rate increased as she continued to stare into his mesmerizing eyes, which carried some emotion that she couldn't comprehend.

As he caught her gazing back, his eyes left the warmth and embraced the coldness. He exited the kitchen and walked upstairs with one last glance. What was that? Was he bipolar or what?

She shrugged her shoulders and began working alongside the other females. Alexander's birthday was the next day, so they all had to work hard and wouldn't get much sleep.

Alexander:

He couldn't take his eyes away from her. Her gorgeous face lit up as she grinned. A little smile appeared on his lips, and his eyes softened as he took in the scene. For his serenity, the only thing he could gaze at was her eyes. But why is this so? What was it about her that made her so unique?

When she noticed him gazing at her, his eyes softened and she abruptly stopped laughing. What made her stop? He growled in his head.

Despite seeing her surprise, he kept his gaze fixed on her. Something bubbled inside him as a result of her look. He couldn't tell if it was the sense of rage or his melting heart. He detested the notion of the latter.

It had to have been the rage. When did I become so vulnerable? He questioned himself. He wasn't a man of vulnerability and he wasn't going to let some little girl change that.

When he realized he had been looking at her for quite some time, his stare returned to its previous coldness. Her expression was perplexed as he proceeded to walk upstairs to his room, fully disregarding everyone in his way.

When he arrived in his room, he opened the door and entered, placing his coat on the sofa. He closed his eyes and laid down on his bed. He was exhausted that day and wanted to do nothing but sleep.

A loud knock woke him up from his sleep, making him groan in annoyance. "Come in," he growled.

"Well, that's not very polite of you, my son," he heard his mother say and enter his room. He greeted her.

"I never knew you were coming today."

"It happened all of a sudden we didn't have time to inform you, dear," she said and sat beside him.

"How have you been Alex?" She asked him.

"I have been fine just very tired because of my work," he replied.

"Your dad also came with me and I would like you to see him," she said. He didn't have a good relationship with his father so he just nodded his head to stop her from talking about it any further. He was never in a close relationship with anyone in his house anymore since his 20′s. But his mother somehow always tried to get close to him and sometimes he would let her.

"I see you have handled the house nicely and the new maid is pretty quiet and nice," he looked at her in confusion. Who is she talking about? "That young one?" He asked.

"Yes, and I guess her name is..." she narrowed her eyes to remember. "Oh yes, Emma, she is very nice and young. Martha introduced her to me and your father, but, as always your father had to be rude to everyone," she said and rolled her eyes. Alexander clenched his fists. He was rude to her?

"What did he say?" He asked trying to control his anger.

"He just told her that he doesn't like any clumsy worker who stutters a lot. But don't worry dear I will make sure he is not like that again," she assured him. He had no idea why she was assuring him of it; he had no interest in his father or his actions. He did not care about half of the office staff and the maids at his house.

Alexander had never paid attention to it, but something had angered him when his mother informed him about his father's inferior conduct towards Alexander.