Maurice Black Butler Novels & Stories

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.

The matte black Mercedes Benz S-Class pulled to a smooth halt, its engine humming with the quiet confidence of a predator. Before the wheels had even stopped spinning, a team of four security guards in charcoal suits flanked the doors, their movements synchronized and smart. Dominic Blackwood stepped out. He was the kind of man who didn’t just occupy space, he commanded it. Tall, sharp jawed, and wearing a tailored suit that cost more than most people’s annual rent, he was the city’s golden son and its most untouchable bachelor.

Hey, come over here," the butler ordered. I was in the middle of polishing the shoes when his voice made me flinch. "Coming, sir." I stood up, dusted off my skirt, and walked over. "How may I help, sir?" "The young Master sought your appearance. You'd better watch yourself and do what he asks," the butler warned, handing me a tray. "Y-Yes, sir. Understood, sir," I answered and took the tray. "Good girl." He patted my head and left. I gulped. Zane Voss was the heir of the Voss Family and the eldest son of the family head. He was always travelling abroad. The last time he had been back was years ago.

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.

Who the hell did the butler think he was to allow sunlight to breach the mafia boss's dark domain? Much like the depth of his heart, the mafia boss cloaked his abode in the darkest color of black he could. The dark color left hardly any spaces untouched, from his bedroom to the basement. David had even gone so far as to hire furniture specialists to modify any pieces that didn’t match his aesthetic. “Alfred, you’re already on strike two, and you’ve only been here for less than ten minutes. Are you looking to die today?” The butler raised one meticulous eyebrow turning to face the mafia boss after ensuring the curtains wouldn’t fall back in place.

I simply nodded, keeping my thoughts guarded as the Butler stepped forward. At Pa’s command, the Butler took the bag from my shoulder. We walked outside to the waiting vehicle. A sleek black Mercedes gleamed in the sunlight, polished to perfection. The chauffeur stood by the passenger door, eyes fixed on us. As soon as he saw the Butler approach, he hurried forward, taking the duffel bag and heading back to the car to open the door for me.

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.

I knocked on the heavy oak door, echoing through the quiet courtyard. Moments later, it swung open, revealing Winston—the tall, blond butler. “Prince Caspian and Duke Maurice.” Winston intoned, bowing slightly. His eyes, however, held a hint of disdain, as if he considered our titles mere trifles compared to Lord Oskar’s vast influence. I rolled my eyes, aware of the vampire’s tangled web of debts with the Cloverfield Mafia—a fortune large enough to buy the entire state of Florida walking with Maurice past the butler.