Maurice Black Butler Novels & Stories

Elisha’s POV “If he was not like this before, so was he a bad guy in his past?” I asked softly without blinking. The Butler smiled at me, “Well, maybe.” I groaned softly, “What’s your name?” He scratched his head, “Uhm, don’t tell this to him, he’ll be mad at me if I was telling you something about him.” I agreed with him, “Yes, your name is?” He politely answered, “I’m Marcus.”

He looks around and notices the familiarity of the room he is staying in. This room is perturbingly familiar, he thinks. The stranger comes back, bringing a black suit with a black bow tie. “You are going to wear this from this day forth,” the stranger says, “as the prince’s butler.”

Maurice, this person, was very calm. When he was confronted with her, Grandfather Brian Hall’s killer — he was so calm and didn't seem sad at all. Such a scary person, so elusive, no wonder Alex would find Maurice very difficult to deal with. However, forget it, since Maurice was not pursuing her now, maybe she helped Maurice do exactly what he wanted to do. Now the more important thing was to prepare for the next plan. Maurice stood in his office watching Benson speed away with Jenny’s car, the smile at the corner of his mouth even more unconcealed.

It was impossible but he couldn't stop the tremor of hope that ran through him. "Gimme." He tried not to make the excitement he felt overtake him. He had an image to keep after all. The butler was a tall slim blonde, clean shaven but the greys in his hair showed he was older than he looked. He was groomed neatly too, the well cut black suit he wore hugging his figure nicely. His pristine black shoes seemed to glow in the dark, and his facial expression gave away nothing. He walked gracefully towards Chelsea, a sense of elegance around him. Chelsea wanted to punch his face. He's never punched anybody in his entire life but he was willing to try.

Back in the 1970s, he and Mauritius used to be Marcus' saviors against the bullies, as they pitied how weak Marcus was. At that time, Marcus was thankful to them. He could still remember the smile of gratitude and laughter he made whenever they needed to save him. ~Seems like I owe you again Quillion~ Those are the words Marcus used to say to him. As Quillion remembers it now, he felt a pang of guilt and a surge of regret. "Marcus is the Headmaster of the Black Order... The person that ordered to kill my Samara." He uttered as his sight turned wolfish. A hot flash of burning anger seethed through him. He closes his eyes, calming himself. He didn't want to get his son worried.

Butler Thomas swallowed hard as he didn’t know how to respond As he was about to say something, he heard Hazel speak “I am sir Alex newly assigned personal maid sir” she immediately said bowing her head for butler Thomas to swallow his words as they got stuck in his throat making him open his eyes wide while Kayla and Gerald frowned……..

One by one, the household team stepped forward to introduce themselves. Youda approached, smiling brightly. “They didn’t believe me when I said you remembered my name.” Benita smiled gently. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s a beautiful name.” Another ripple of whispers followed. It was as though remembering their names was some forbidden act. Finally, the head butler stepped forward. “I’m Mary, Lady Blackwell,” she said, poised and firm. “Should you need anything, you may come directly to me.” “Thank you, Mary.” Mary nodded and instructed breakfast to be served.

There was a pause before a familiar voice answered. “It’s me, sir.” I sighed again. Benson. My butler. The man had impeccable timing. “What do you want?” “There’s someone here to see you.” I groaned, rolling off the woman and onto my back. “Not interested.” “He says his name is Malcolm.” I stilled.? Then, slowly, a smirk curled at the edges of my lips. Malcolm? Here?

The old Hawthorne Mansion loomed like a gothic dream on the outskirts of the English countryside. Sophia had taken the live-in personal assistant position three weeks ago, managing the estate’s affairs for the reclusive owner who was rarely present. The real enigma of the house, however, was Mr. Elias Blackwood, the butler. Elias was perfection incarnate. Mid-thirties, tall and elegantly built with broad shoulders, dark hair was always styled and a sharp jaw.

It's just my body, I shouldn't be swayed away again. I watched him leave, staring at him with full hate. Does he not care if I hate him for the rest of his life? I thought Mafia leaders are still humans and could have a heart. I guess I was wrong about this guy. He is nothing like he looks. He has no heart, no shame and no morals. He thinks the world revolves around him. I am very sure, karma will deal with him one day. "Good day miss. I am butler James. Miss, please come with me." The butler said leading me up the stairs.