4

“Are you even sure about this job you signed up for?”

Amara let out a frustrated sigh as she heard Ken’s voice yet again. She’d lost count of how many times he had asked her that exact question.

“Well, I don’t know, okay? I really don’t.

I have no clue how to clean, cook, or serve anyone. People usually do those things for me.”

She snapped dramatically as she struggled to zip up her old, worn-out bag. Of all the luxury travel bags she owned, why did they have to give her this beat-up thing that looked like it belonged to one of the housemaids?

“If you don’t know how to do it, how do you expect to keep up the lie you told the housekeeper—”

“I said I don’t know, Ken! God, stop nagging! You sound just like my grandpa and it drives me insane. I already told you—I. Don’t. Know. Okay?!”

She snapped, completely irritated. What he was even doing in her room, she had no idea.

“Instead of acting like my grandfather, how about you just take this bag downstairs?”

She ordered, tossing the bag toward him. Ken didn’t answer and simply picked it up. Amara thought he’d finally shut up, but of course, she was wrong. She sighed again when he opened his mouth just before walking out the door.

“Didn’t you say you were raised like a princess? That you had maids doing everything for you, which is why you don’t know any chores?

Then why don’t you just copy whatever those maids did for you? Think about how they served you.

How they treated you. Maybe that’ll help, even just a bit.”

Ken said seriously. Amara paused, falling silent as she sat down on her bed in frustration.

“I don’t know… I don’t really pay attention. They fetch me water, draw my bath, prepare my meals—they do everything.

Honestly, if I told them to jump off a cliff, they probably would. They’re more afraid of losing their jobs than losing their lives—”

“Whoa, okay, that’s a little dramatic. What I meant was—how did they serve you? How did you treat them?”

Ken scratched the back of his neck, confused.

“I already answered. I never really observed them. As long as they did everything I asked, we were good.

Sometimes I told them to slap me—of course, they never did. So I slapped them instead.

So, technically, they became my practice dummies for perfecting the art of slapping.”

She replied without a hint of sarcasm.

“Good Lord, Amara. Are you really that awful?

With that attitude, I bet you won’t even last three days before getting fired.”

“I am at the top of my game, Ken. I lie better than I slap.

I can totally pull off being a broke, small-town dropout struggling to survive. Just watch me.”

She grinned wickedly and shoved him out of the room.

—

“Miss, you need to bring your bag inside. Madam Unday is waiting for you.”

The man who introduced himself as Mr. Filipe—also the one who picked her up—called out to Amara. She rolled her eyes discreetly, grabbed her bag, and stepped into the mansion.

“Hmmm… this house is even bigger than mine.

Now I’m really curious—who’s the boss here?”

She murmured to herself, impressed as she took in the cream-painted grandeur of the house.

“So, you’re the new personal maid?”

Amara nearly screamed at the sound of a deep baritone voice out of nowhere. She whipped her head around and froze when her eyes landed on a tall, unbelievably handsome man standing at the top of the staircase.

‘Ohh la la… he’s hot. Handsome and young—don’t tell me he’s the boss?’

She asked herself as she bit down on her lower lip unconsciously.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the guy. He looked like he could be a men’s underwear model—no interview required.

‘Oh my God, he’s a total hunk. Ruggedly handsome. I could die now...

Wait no—I can’t die yet. I still need to marry him.

And those biceps—holy crap—

I would happily serve him every night just to see those muscles up close…’

She had a whole fantasy playing out in her head.

Amara was jolted back to reality when someone beside her spoke.

“Sir Xavier, this is your new personal assistant. Her name is—”

“Are you seriously drooling over me right now?”

The man’s deep voice cut off the housekeeper mid-sentence. Amara quickly averted her eyes, realizing all his attention was on her.

‘Oh crap… even his voice is sexy. Just his voice alone could make a girl lose her panties.’

She shook the thought away. What was wrong with her? Why did she suddenly feel like a pervert?

“Let the young woman introduce herself, Nay Unday,” the man said sternly.

The older woman nodded in agreement, stepping aside. Amara stayed frozen in place until she saw the man’s raised brow and intense stare. Only then did she snap out of it.

She cleared her throat and awkwardly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, acting like some nervous teenager running into her crush on the street.

“M-my name is Am-Amara, s-sir… You can call me Amara…”

‘Seriously? What was that? Get it together, Amara!’ she scolded herself.

She dared another glance at the man—her new boss—and he was still staring, one brow arched in silent judgment.

“Very well, Amara. Once you’re done fantasizing about me like some sort of creep, come find me in my office. Nay Unday, I need a word with you.”

Without another glance, he turned and walked away, with Nay Unday following close behind.

He was already halfway up the stairs when his earlier words finally hit her.

“No—I wasn’t drooling over you! I really wasn’t, sir!” she called out, her voice a little too loud.

He glanced at her coldly and smirked.

Amara didn’t bother to admire the luxurious office she entered. Sure, it was filled with expensive furnishings and sleek décor, but she’d seen all that before. It wasn’t new to her.

She had grown up surrounded by luxury. Nothing in this office impressed her anymore—well, nothing except the fact that he was in it. And maybe… maybe she had a tiny crush on him.

‘Come on, who wouldn’t?’ she thought with a smirk.

“You’re here.”

“Ahh! Shit!”

She yelped in surprise and quickly covered her mouth when she spotted him sitting casually on a large sofa in the corner of the room.

“I see you’ve got a filthy mouth too,” he said flatly, watching her.

“N-no, sir, just a slip… I don’t usually curse…”

She bit her lip in defense, while he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re quite articulate, Amara. You could easily land a better-paying job. So why become a maid?”

‘Would it kill you to offer me a seat first? Rude much?’ she thought, but held her tongue. One look at him and she could already tell—this man didn’t exactly scream fun-loving.

She’d bet two months of her salary he didn’t have a sense of humor.

“I just arrived in Manila, sir. I don’t have the money to look for better work right now,” she answered, hating the lie that rolled off her tongue. It was the first time she’d ever said those words out loud.

No money.

When not so long ago, she used to carry thousands in her wallet.

“Hmm,” he muttered. “Nay Unday told me you were a college student. If you do well here, maybe I’ll send you back to school.”

His voice remained emotionless, unreadable. Amara managed a small smile, hiding her inner turmoil.

How was she supposed to tell him that she didn’t want to go back to school? That her grandfather, Herman, had practically forced her to start training in their family business instead?

“T-thank you, sir.”

Amara spoke, and the handsome man nodded in response.

“Very well, it’s almost dinner time. You can go see Nanay Unday; she’ll help you settle in. We’ll discuss your duties as my maid tomorrow. For now, take some rest. You’re free to go.”

Gee, does this man even know how to smile?

Amara muttered to herself, still staring at his handsome face. Moments later, her eyes widened in realization when she recognized the man.

“Mark Xavier Peralta…”

She blurted out, causing his attention to shift back to her.

“Yes, that’s me. Do you know who I am?”

He asked, furrowing his brow. After all, who in high society wouldn’t know him?

He’s THE 30-year-old successful businessman—the youngest multi-billionaire…

“N-no, sir… Nanay Unday mentioned your name yesterday,”

Amara lied, and it seemed like he bought it.

“I’ll be leaving now, sir.”

She said, turning to leave, but just as she was about to step out of the office, he called her back.

“Nanay Unday left this earlier. This will be your uniform.”

He said, handing her a dark blue maid’s dress. Without even looking at it, she knew she was going to look like Miss Minchin when she wore it.

Amara hid the disgust on her face as she took the uniform.

“M-my uniform? Christ, looks like someone died in this.”

She grimaced. Why hadn’t she thought about the fact that, as a maid, she’d have to wear a maid’s uniform? A uniform she used to make fun of whenever she played dress-up with her servants in the past. Now, she was going to wear it herself.

Who would’ve thought?

“Yes, is there a problem?”

Her boss raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp as he questioned her.

“No, sir… just the design of the uniform…”

Amara answered, acting casually, but it only made her boss raise his eyebrow even more.

“Did you choose this design, sir? I mean, no offense, but even Jesus wouldn’t be caught dead in half of this stuff.”

She couldn’t help herself.

“Well, would you rather stay naked then, Amara? Because trust me, I’d like it even better.”