When Milena sees me in my new attire, her eyes widen and her mouth parts open. "Goodness! What are you wearing, dear?"

I feel my cheeks flame a little. "Boss's orders," I mumble, tugging the dress down. I feel so uncomfortable wearing this.

"Mrs Welch's?" Milena asks, looking me up and down, her eyes still wide.

"No, Mr Welch's," I emphasise.

Milena looks at me for a few seconds longer before she straightens her mouth in a stern line. "Oh, dear," she mutters.

Yes, oh, dear would be just right. I don't voice that. Honestly, I don't dare to go against Mr Welch's wishes, regardless of what happened this morning. Actually, especially not after what happened this morning, although, just for a second there, he seemed nice to me and treated me like an actual person who makes mistakes.

Although it seems that Mr and Mrs Welch don't make mistakes - ever.

The next reaction I get on my outfit is from Mrs Welch herself when I come into the dining room to serve her lunch. She's eating alone yet again.

I feel her eyes on me the second I enter the room and I try to avoid her gaze, but it's hard because she's really piercing me with it. It's unnerving and it makes me even more nervous.

"Miss Duarte, what in the world are you wearing?" she snaps at me with an incredulous tone that tells me she's shocked. And angry.

My heart starts beating up even faster. "M-Mr Welch sent me the dress and wrote that this is my new uniform, ma'am," I answer dutifully, yet fearfully, keeping my gaze in the floor and my wrists crossed on my belly.

"Adrian? Since when is he making decisions about the household?" Mrs Welch mutters more to herself than me.

Meanwhile, I hang on what she said. Adrian. He's got a nice name, one that certainly suits him.

I stay quiet and stand by the table, waiting to be dismissed so I can go back to the kitchen.

"I'll have a talk with my husband, girl. Go change out of these outrageous clothes, I don't want to see you looking like a hooker in my own house."

Oh, ouch. Even though it's true. I don't want to look like a hooker.

I hurry out of the kitchen and run back upstairs to quickly change before I have to serve the second course. It's nice to be back in my old clothes now, even though they're not something I could brag about. They're just old clothes and they'll have to do.

I serve Mrs Welch the lunch while she looks through the magazines and types away on her laptop, completely ignoring me now. And I'm okay with that.

The rest of the day passes rather quickly. Time really flies when you have work to do. But I have to stay up again since Mr Welch hasn't come home yet and someone has to serve him dinner. Milena offered to stay up so I could go to sleep, but I voiced my concerns about Mr and Mrs Welch not liking that since they're on my ass.

Therefore, I wait with her. I busy myself with cleaning the kitchen counters, but I know exactly when he comes home. The atmosphere changes and my skin start tingling.

I've started getting afraid coming face to face with Mr or Mrs Welch because I don't want to screw things up and I often don't know what they really want from me.

"Adrian, sweetie, good evening. You didn't tell me you were going earlier than usual today," Milena greets Mr Welch in the way that makes me think they actually have a little friendlier relationship going on. I'm sure she's known them for a long time, but I can never see myself being friendly with any of them. They're just too ... much.

"Good evening, Milena. Miss Duarte knew. She took care of me."

I'm not prepared to hear his deep, smooth voice again and I'm definitely not ready for that statement he just made.

She took care of me. Oh my God! I did anything but took care of him this morning. If anything, it was the other way around. My ears start getting hot at that.

"Adrian ..." Milena starts with a motherly tone that's concerned and also serious.

Mr Welch cuts her off. "Where is she tonight, anyway?" he asks.

My heart starts beating faster in my chest and my mouth goes slightly dry. I grip the kitchen counter tightly, listening to the conversation going on in the dining room.

"In the kitchen." There's a pause. "Adrian, I hope you know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything, Milena. Meanwhile Miss Duarte, on the other hand, is doing her job. You can also sleep in tomorrow morning, Cassandra will serve me breakfast."

I tightly close my eyes shut. This is what I feared. Because I know I'm going to screw it up again. I'm on a one-week probation, but I don't think I'm going to even make it that far. What a loser I am.

"Now, where is the dinner?"

I instantly spring into action after those words leave Mr Welch's mouth. I don't want to go on his bad side even more so I quickly grab the food Milena and I carefully prepared and take it out to him.

He's standing by the table. I don't directly look at him, I just see his suit covered body. I'm not prepared to look at his face, though, so I keep it lowered.

I place the dish on the table and place a plate down. I want to go back to the kitchen when his voice stops me. "Miss Duarte. Good evening."

Chills. All over my body. His voice is so controlled and mine comes out a shaky mess, "Good evening, Mr Welch." I still don't look at him.

There's a silence for a few beats and I want to leave again, but he stops me yet again. "I expect you to look at me when I speak to you, Cassandra."

My head lifts on itself and I'm suddenly looking at his dark, dark eyes, the beautiful colour of dark brown that looks almost black. His messy hair, his one-day-old stubble, the sharp jaw ... Mr Welch has the looks, I'll give that to him. He's also got an attitude that I still can't decide if it's nice or not. He's definitely bossy.

His eyes look me up and down with a purpose. "Did you not get my orders today?"

I feign ignorance. "What orders, sir?" I have a feeling what he's talking about, but I just want to make sure first.

"The uniform. I don't see you wearing it."

My cheeks flush. The fact that he's even implying that outrageous thing could be defined as a uniform ... In a whore house maybe. "Yes, I got them. Mrs Welch, however, ordered me to not wear it and gave me a permission to wear my own clothes. Sir," I add quickly, trying to be respectful.

Mr Welch slightly cocks his head to the side. "Mrs Welch does not change my orders."

"But ..." My face pales a little. "She's my boss, too," I say quietly because I'm getting confused. If I get this right; if Mr Welch gives me an order, I have to do it immediately, but if Mrs Welch does not agree with that order I got, I have to do what she says, otherwise she will get mad. And the other way around. And that's conflicting because I can't do two opposite things at the same time. Either I do something or I don't do something. And all of this is starting to mess with my head.

"Cassandra." Mr Welch steps closer to me and I'm not breathing anymore, especially after my name comes out of his mouth yet again, caressed by his velvety voice. "When you receive a check, my name is going to be on it - not Mrs Welch's. When I give you an order, you listen to me. And if Mrs Welch does not agree with that, she comes to me."

My throat closes up on me because I don't know if I should say anything more. He's clearly serious, but there's still a fact that Mrs Welch gave me a week and if I screw it up ... I'll be jobless.

"Of course, Mr Welch," I say.

"Have you eaten already?" he directs his question at me again.

"I ..." I nervously look at Milena who's watching us with her lips in a tight line. "Yes," I lie.

Mr Welch looks at me for long moments, his eyes roaming over my whole face. "Lying, Cassandra, is a strong no. Especially with me. And especially if you're a bad liar, which you are. Don't make it a habit and don't ever do it again. I'll know."

Well, shit. This man ... this man is intense and I'm sure he's got some superpowers.

He - finally - turns towards Milena. But his words don't assure me, they actually speed my heart up. "Goodnight, Milena. We'll manage from here."

Mierda.

Milena looks at Mr Welch for some long moments with a chastising look, full of disapproval. And then she says softly, like she can't help herself. "Goodnight, Adrian. Be careful, boy."

"I'm always careful." His lips turn up on one side, wearing a sexy, lopsided grin.

"Goodnight, Cassie," she wishes me.

I give her a small smile, although my eyes are pleading her to not leave and stay here with me. "Goodnight, Milena," I bid her.

When she leaves, Mr Welch's attention is back on me and so are his eyes. "Bring yourself a plate and join me, Miss Duarte."

Oh, so it's back to Miss Duarte now.

"Thank you, Mr Welch, but I'm not hungry." I hang my head.

"I think you didn't understand me, Cassandra. It was not a question. Bring your plate and eat with me. You haven't eaten and I won't have you starving yourself under my watch."

Oh. Oh, man. He's so bossy! "Yes, sir." I scurry out of the dining room because I don't want to bring myself into a mess. I don't know why he'd allow me to eat with him at the great table - that's what Milena calls it. The staff that works here has to eat in the kitchen.

I take the plate in the dining room just to see Mr Welch rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, his suit jacket already placed over the chair. He looks at me from under his lashes as I enter, but his hands don't stop moving. My breath hitches in my throat and I quickly place the plate down on the table.

He's sitting at the head of the table, of course, and I just place my plate on his right. I don't know if he wanted me anywhere else, but I just keep quiet and awkwardly stand by the chair. "You can sit down, Cassandra," Mr Welch offers softly.

I sit down before he does and stare at the table. An awkward silence falls between us before he decides to fill it after he sits down. "How old are you?"

I'm afraid to look at him, but I remember his rule about looking at him when he's speaking to me. He placed his elbows on his table and intertwined his hands together, placing them under his chin and levelling me with a stare.

My hands play with the material of my shirt on my lap. "22, sir," I answer.

Mr Welch makes a humming noise. "College?"

"I took a year off because I ... couldn't pay for it anymore," I lower my eyes in shame. I feel so weird admitting my money problems to rich people. I feel even more humiliated.

I hear Mr Welch exhale. I swear if he tells me to look at him, I won't be able to hold it in me anymore. I bite down on my lip. "Fill your plate," he says instead.

I look at the food on the table. It's the sausage with sauce, mashed potatoes and a salad tonight. The food doesn't appeal to me right now because I'm a nervous wreck, but I still place it on my plate. Not much, just something I'm sure I'll be able to eat.

Mr Welch doesn't move and doesn't say anything for long moments. I don't eat because I don't want to seem rude and not wait for him. "Is that all you're going to eat, Cassandra?"

I look down at my plate again. "I'm not really hungry," I say quietly, almost whispering.

I feel Mr Welch let out a long exhale before he starts filling his plate, too. Before he starts eating, he says, "You don't have to be so afraid of me. I won't fire you for saying the wrong thing to me."

I glance at him. "How do I know that?" I ask and then I want to slap my hand over my mouth right away.

Mr Welch chuckles lightly and the chuckle travels through my whole body. He has a nice laugh. Manly. Deep. Attractive. I quickly look away again because I find myself becoming distracted by his appearance.

"Cassandra," he demands my attention yet again. "I am not a monster. I employ and pay you, yes, but that does not mean you have to hold your tongue. Especially now. I invited you for a dinner and I want you to have a conversation with me without any fear of saying what's on your mind. Act like I'm not your boss here."

And he's not going to make this any easier. "I really can't do that," I reply. That would be unprofessional and I would most likely embarrass myself even more. Act like he's not your boss! Him being my boss is protecting me from thinking about him and his appearance too much.

I may not know him personally - yet - but I know that I'd probably lose some sleep even because of how good looking he is. But him being my boss means that's inappropriate having any kind of thoughts about him, which is better for both of us, especially my fragile heart. He's way out of my league and I'd embarrass myself at the end.

"Ask me a question," he says.

"Pardon?" I ask, unsure if I heard him correctly.

"Something you want to know. Ask me. Anything."

I stare at him for long moments, confused, but also intrigued and a little bit nervous. Ask him anything? "How old are you?" I blurt out. I don't really know why, but the question had to be sitting in the back of my mind somewhere, apparently.

"I'm 30," he answers without any hesitation and without any visible surprise by my question.

Thirty. I would've never given him. He looks younger.

I nod and avert my gaze again. "Another question," he says.

I look at him again. "Ask me another question," he clarifies.

Jesus. "Where do you work?" I could probably word that a little better, but Mr Welch gets what I mean.

His mouth slightly tips up at one corner, making it look like he's really enjoying this. "At my company," he says. I stare at him because I have no idea where that is or what he's doing. "I'm an architect, Cassandra. I work for myself."

Oh. I look around the house. "Did you make plans for this house?" I ask him without a permission this time.

"I built this house."

My eyes snap back to him. "Oh," I voice my thoughts. "Do you do that, too? Build houses, I mean."

Mr Welch's eyebrow jumps up, but I don't see any discomfort or rage on his face that his maid is asking him questions. Which is totally inappropriate, but if he made himself approachable, I'm definitely grabbing the chance.

"I have a team for that. I mostly sketch how the house should look like and others do their work."

By the look of it, he must be really good at what he does if I judge by all the expensive things surrounding me.

"What are you studying?" he asks me this time. I'm pretty sure he knows this stuff already because it's all written in my CV, but it's possible he didn't even read it.

"English Literature."

He does look surprised this time and that confirms the fact that, no, he didn't read my CV. "That's interesting," he comments.

I want to ask why he thinks so, but I bite down on my tongue. This is already getting overly friendly for me and I need to remind myself that I'm not his friend, I'm his employee and I need to stop before this gets awkward for the both of us.

"Let's eat now," he finally says and we both dig into our food, finishing our plates in silence.

I hope Mr Welch doesn't try to indulge me in any more conversation because I'm tired and I'd just like to go to the bed as soon as possible.

I'm glad when he stands up, me standing up with him. "Wear your uniform tomorrow, Cassandra. 6 this time."

I nod dutifully, although my throat closes up on me. I don't know why he tried to humiliate me so much by wearing that trashy dress. "Goodnight," he says softly, his eyes roaming over my face for some more before I bid him goodnight, too, and he goes up, leaving me to clean up after us. 

What are some of your favourite stories on here and by who? I'll see if I have some time this summer to check them out 🙆‍♀️