I wasn't a Perfect, a paragon of beauty.

I had a normal face, not a symmetrical one. I had a slim body, not a curvy one. I had plain dark brown eyes, not complex mixed coloured eyes. In short, I was what people called an Imperfect.

I had short kinky hair and was tall, which was considered abominable for girls.

'The more petite the more admirable,' was what they always said.

'The longer the hair, the better.' My hair wasn't even that short.

Society was divided into two factions, the Perfects and the Imperfects. The Imperfects were below the Perfects.

My mother worked for wealthy Perfects, the Smiths. The more power and money Perfects had the snobbier they were, but the Smiths at least let us stay in the small cottage by their mansion, so I could tolerate them.

I normally woke up at 5 am, but my mother woke me up at 3 am today. She didn't even give me an explanation but just told me to get up and then left.

With a heavy sigh, I got out of bed and got dressed. The mansion wasn't its usual quiet, there were servants all about and to my surprise, the Smiths were already awake and dressed.

"Ah, Amy," Mrs Smith said.

"Amara," I corrected her as I found myself doing daily.

She waved off my correction, "We'll be gone for 12 months." I coughed to cover up my squeal.

Mrs Smith curled her full red lips, "keep your germs to yourself. I don't need you to make me sick." She reached into her purse, took out her disinfectant and sprayed it in my direction.

The audacity.

"A highly esteemed family will be coming here, have you heard of the Gerards?" Before I could answer, she said, "of course you haven't, you're probably uneducated."

"I do, actually," I retorted. "They're the founders of the Gerard Group and own several companies around the continent."

"That they do. They'll be coming to the country and staying in my mansion for the 12 months they'll be here."

Great, more rich snobs.

The Gerards were extremely rich, so I had no doubt they were extremely snobbish too. They were considered royalty. They were well renowned, loved by all and envied by all.

Their bags arrived a couple of minutes after the Smiths left, which was sooner than I thought since they were only arriving at 6 am. I was given the task of arranging all the rooms alongside my mother who didn't stop telling me to be on my best behaviour.

"I will mother, when have I ever not been on my best behaviour?" I asked, hanging clothes on the several hangers in the ridiculously large walk-in closet.

"Every day, do you know how many times I've seen you roll your eyes and secretly flip off the Smiths?"

I laughed softly, "but they've never seen me."

"But the Gerards are a family of 7."

"So?"

"So there's a much larger chance of you being caught," she elaborated.

I sighed, hanging the last of the clothes before moving to the next suitcase. "Fine, I'll be careful."

I had to memorise all the names of the Gerard children and familiarize myself with them, but it wasn't hard, they were all named after colours. The parents were Mr and Mrs Gerard, and their children were Miss Amber, Blanche, Jade, Hazel and Mr Greyson.

In the pictures we were handed, Mrs Gerard, Miss Amber and Miss Jade all had rich, wavy auburn hair. Miss Blanche and Miss Hazel had straight blond hair. Mr Gerard had slicked back dirty blond hair and Mr Greyson had black hair. I found myself looking at his picture for the longest.

Once everything was set up, we all met downstairs and waited to welcome the Gerards. The doormen opened the grand doors just as the clock struck 6 am, announcing the Gerard's arrival.

The females walked in first, all petite and curvy, no surprise there.

The males walked in after. The father had the same slicked-back dirty blond hair as in the picture. Mr Greyson's black hair was brushed on the sides but curly on top, tendrils falling to his eyebrows. He was nothing short of stunning in person. He was the tallest of them all and had piercing blue eyes, defying the green and light-blue eye tones of his family. He had a slight adam's apple, a defined jawline and I had no doubt he had the most pride. The best-looking were always the most unbearable.

"Please follow me," I said to them, forcing that sweet, respectful tone I hated.

I led them to their respected rooms and was extremely grateful when no one said a word to me. I turned to head back downstairs but someone suddenly called, "Slave Girl."

I paused in my tracks, silently scoffing before turning around and facing Miss Amber. "Yes?" I said through clenched teeth.

"Make yourself useful and tell the cooking slaves to add a cheesy maple bacon jaffle to breakfast."

I had to look down to hide the curling of my lip. "Of course."

She spun on her heels and entered her room.

"You self-centred snob," I reviled, pulling my middle fingers, before turning around and coming face-to-face with Greyson.

"Ah!" I screamed, nearly tripping over.

"Were you just flipping off my sister?" he asked, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

He'd seen me.

I couldn't do anything but stare at him wide-eyed, my heartbeat and breathing erratic. I was going to be fired. He was going to tell his parents and they were going to gossip about me, making it impossible for me, and my mom, to find another job.

He chuckled, a slightly deep but highly attractive sound. "I've never seen a slave do that."

My fear slowly gave way to anger. There was that word I hated. Slave. If I was going to be fired, there was no point in faking politeness.

"I'm not your slave," I sneered, satisfied at the surprise on Greyson's face.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Greyson," I added, my tone sharp and disdainful. "I'm sick and tired of Perfects treating us like we're not human, well guess what, we are." I don't know what overcame me, but I suddenly found myself stepping closer to Greyson, glaring up at his smirking face. "You may be pretty on the outside, but you're nothing short of revolting on the inside."

Greyson's lip curved further, not in a sneer, but a grin. "What's your name?"

"Amara." At this point, I didn't care whether he told his parents about me, though I knew full well I'd regret it later.

"Amara," he echoed, and something about the way he said my name made my heart beat wildly.

I took a step back, willing for my heart to calm down but it only beat faster when Greyson bent down and looked me straight in the eyes, his blue eyes bright.

"Make that two cheesy maple bacon jaffles," he said, then left, returning to his room and leaving me nothing short of confused.

****

Breakfast was done but nothing had happened, my mother and I hadn't been ordered to leave the mansion. Yet.

I went to call the Gerards down for breakfast, which was easy till I had to call Greyson. He opened the door after my knock and my eyes unwillingly drifted down to his chest. Some of his top buttons were undone, revealing a smidge of what looked like a gorgeous body beneath.

I ripped my eyes from his chest and said, "whatever you're doing, I don't like it."

"What do you mean?"

I scoffed, "are you seriously going to feign ignorance right now? When are you going to report me to your parents?"

"I'm not reporting anything."

"I'm sorry what?" I asked, not sure I heard correctly. "But I—"

"Flipped off my sister?" He chuckled, "Amber's pretty hard not to dislike."

"But I'm not supposed to behave like that."

He shook his head and sighed, "you know one thing I hate about having... helpers?" He'd changed slaves to helpers, and I don't know why that made my heart pound. "They're not genuine. They put on this mask of politeness and don't do anything when they're treated like dirt. But you, you expressed yourself. And I respect that."

I'd never been rendered speechless until that moment.

The Gerards were invited to Grand Gardens to welcome them to the country. They were accompanied by the waiters, including myself, who were tasked to help serve people throughout the evening.

The venue was already bustling with wealthy, haughty, preposterously good-looking people when we arrived.

The closest group of people greeted the Gerards, but one petite female with wavy black hair, light brown eyes and delicate curves targetted Greyson, hugging him and telling him how much she missed him. A bitterness formed in my stomach, but I was called to follow the other waiters before I could understand why I'd felt that way.

I only had one task, stand and occasionally walk around with a tray of finger foods, simple.

Someone came and stood beside me, grabbing a finger food. I expected them to leave but when they didn't, I looked up and saw Greyson. He grinned at me but didn't leave, his arm occasionally brushing against mine, making me jittery.

"Do you not have anyone to talk to?" I asked, not liking the way my heart wasn't the only part of my body pulsing.

"They're all boring."

"How about that girl I saw leaping on you earlier?" I asked, the bitterness I'd felt forming again.

"She's boring too."

I nodded slowly, biting my lip to stop from smiling. "Then—"

"There you are," interrupted a honey voice, the same girl who had leapt on him earlier. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Yay, you found me." Greyson's voice sounded clipped. He had been trying to avoid her, I realised.

She smiled, nearing him. "How about we go hide somewhere together and hope no one finds us?"

"No thanks, Ciara," Greyson denied, gently pushing her away and picking another finger food. "I'm hungry."

"How about you try another kind of meal?"

Greyson choked on his food, but I choked on air. Greyson's hand found my back, patting it even though he was choking too, and on something solid.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and I nodded, shrugging off his hand. He wasn't supposed to show concern for an Imperfect, let alone be talking to one.

"Why are you touching her?" Ciara demanded,

"She choked.".

Ciara shook her head, "you've never touched me like that."

"What are you talking about?"

"You always shy away from my touch, but you willingly touched her and she was the one to shrug you off."

"You—"

"Forget it," she sighed, concealing her jealousy with a smile, "just go get me something to drink, please."

I didn't know why Greyson glanced at me before leaving, but Ciara wasn't blind enough not to notice it.

"You," she pointed at me. "Follow me."

I had no choice but to follow, but by the time I realised where she was leading me, it was too late.

She pushed me and I heard some gasps before I plunged into the pool, the cold water swallowing me whole. My hands flailed around but I couldn't reach the surface because I couldn't swim. I felt my body shutting down but heard a faint splash before everything turned black.

I coughed, spitting water, and when I opened my eyes Greyson was above me, his clothes soaked and his hand cupping my face, near my suddenly hot lips.

"Greyson."

He sighed in relief and made me sit up before wrapping me in his arms. My eyes darted open, remembering the crowd.

"Greyson, what are you doing? You can't be hugging me, I'm an Imperfect, remember?"

He only hugged me tighter. "I was so worried about you."

"But you barely even know me." 

"Exactly," he agreed. "I barely even know you, so why do I feel the way I do?"

"I'm an Imperfect," I pointed out again. I didn't want to get into something that'd end in my heartbreak.

"So?"

"So despite what you feel, it won't work out between us. I'm imperfect."

"Just because something is not perfect, does not make it any less worthy of love."

"Love?!"

"I'm not saying I love you," he chuckled. "I just, I know I feel something. And you may not be a Perfect, but you're perfect in my eyes. I don't care what society says. Plus," he added, leaning back slightly to look me in the eyes. "I think you're worth the risks."