A Maid For The Ruthless Brothers

Elsie 

 A cloud of white dust from the antique sofa shot straight up my nose, making me sneeze so hard the room seemed to rattle.

 A sticky, white substance was on the couch cushion. It was partially dried. I’ve been scrubbing it for minutes but it won’t come off easily.

  

 Without thinking, I touched it and brought my finger to my nose before I could stop myself. The sharp, unpleasant smell hit me immediately. I grimaced. Sperm.

 “Ugh,” I muttered, quickly wiping my hand with a towel.

 It had to be Jacob. I remembered catching a glimpse of him right here, fucking a blonde during the party. Everyone had cheered them on while Aiden stood right next to them, his own cock in her mouth. She shook and moaned around it like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

 The whole scene made my stomach turn. Even though my core throbbed, moistening my panties, all I felt was disgust. I couldn’t possibly want them. I hated the very air they breathed.

 The only thing sharper than the stench of their filth is the knife I keep hidden. I don’t just clean the Lancaster brothers’ mess; I clean their trail.

 Every stain I scrub, every broken glass I collect, is a single, agonizing tick of the clock until the day I watch them fall. When I finally walk out of this mansion, it won’t be as a maid, it will be as the woman who put them in handcuffs.

 They stole my life, and that debt is the only thing keeping me breathing. They’re going to pay for it, and they’re going to pay dearly.

 Hours went into the cleaning.

 The Lancaster boys couldn't have made this house dirtier if they'd actively tried to destroy it. Every single room was filthy.

 But the kitchen was the worst.

 I knelt amidst the war zone they called a kitchen. The air was thick with the stench of stale beer, old grease, and rotting trash. Disposable cups and empty bottles crunched under my knees.

 I grappled with a garbage bag that was so overstuffed the plastic ripped. When I lifted it, the putrid contents exploded over the floor, coating my hands and the nearby counter. I groaned, planting my hands on my hips, exhausted and disgusted. This relentless misery was my price for staying close to the monsters.

 A deep voice sliced through the filth, so close it made me jump.

 “Look who’s playing in the dirt.”

 I whirled around. My breath hitched.

 Jacob and Aiden. They didn’t walk into the kitchen, they conquered it. They were two statues of polished cruelty, their broad shoulders instantly swallowing the dim morning light. Even standing in the wreckage of their own party, they looked like Greek gods, untouchable and utterly dominant.

 Jacob's chiseled jaw and malicious ice-blue eyes were a promise of pain. His gaze swept over my exposed legs and chest, hot and possessive, before he settled his cold eyes on mine. "Next time, you will wear appropriate attire around the house. You are a maid, not a whore." It wasn't a request. It was an order.

 I  was still wearing the cotton tank top and mini-skirt I'd slept in. I rushed to clean, not expecting the brothers to be up this early after a night of heavy partying.

 Aiden made his way to the fridge for a bottle of water. He was wearing only boxers and an undershirt so thin I could see the outlines of his powerful muscles. Tattoos covered his upper arms. On his bicep, the name Sarah was etched inside a heart. Who the hell was Sarah?

 I should never, ever find Aiden Lancaster attractive, but the demon was undeniably gorgeous. He caught me staring. Embarrassing. I quickly bent down to continue packing the trash, and my short skirt instantly rode up.

 What is wrong with this stupid skirt? He must think I'm trying to seduce him. I hated him so much that I wanted to drive a knife into his chest.

 I tried to pull the skirt down, but I felt Aiden's heated gaze on me. When I caught his eye, he cleared his throat deliberately into his hand.

 “We have rules about attire, Elsie,” Aiden said, his voice colder and sharper. “A tempting distraction, but inappropriate for my kitchen.”

 Ugh! They are so fucking annoying. I  thought, pulling the skirt’s hem down, uselessly. I hated how undeniably gorgeous they both were, how their presence, even standing in a mess of their own making, felt like a threat.

 Jacob smirked, his eyes dropping to the stain of garbage on my hands. “You missed a critical house rule this morning, little girl.” He didn't ask a question; he made an accusation. “The 9 AM breakfast is non-negotiable.”

 My stomach dropped. I swallowed the fire I wanted to spit back—I was too busy cleaning the battlefield you left! But I remained mute.

 Aiden took a slow, deliberate sip of water, his dark gaze locked on me as if I were a science experiment. "She had excuses, Jacob. She always has one. Maybe this time, she’d claim  she had 'too much work to do.' The filth we pay her to handle." He didn't ask a question; he made a statement of ownership.

 Jacob stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low baritone that didn’t just make my ribs flutter, it trapped the air in my lungs. “You know the penalty for non-compliance, Elsie.”

 I looked up, meeting his eyes. I tried to speak, but the fear, raw and paralyzing, clamped my jaw shut.

 Jacob crossed his arms over his chest, his immense biceps flexing. They towered over me, giants in their kingdom of chaos.

 “The rule is simple: Non-compliance results in punishment.” His voice was a dangerous growl, slow and certain. “I’ll give you one minute, starting now, to choose the penalty yourself. Fail to choose, and I choose for you. And trust me, you don’t want my choice.”

 Aiden smiled, a malicious crescent.

 Jacob began counting, his voice dropping lower with each second, a dangerous, unwavering metronome marking my descent.

 “Ten.”

 “Nine.”