I stare down at my hands, and my brutal bandaged knuckles stare back up at me. I despise this place, this job, that bitch of a woman named Madame Newmister—yet, the hospital acts as a good distraction from the true thoughts coursing my mind.

Ever since word spread about Cato's return, my mind catches itself in a frenzy of obsession over a boy I used to know. With Cato's impending arrival, I can't let myself trail down those roads.

I need my mind to stay clear, to be focused.

Evelyn's excitement isn't exactly taming the fire within me either. She snuck me into her study last night, blathering on about her son returning home. I admire her in a way, allowing herself to be consumed by her joy. Her smile spread across her lips, wider and brighter than the sun itself. She loves Cato more than anything in this world: her true pride and joy.

What she doesn't know is the connection that pulsed between Cato and I as children. Six years, and yet my mind still writhes at the idea of him. Memories of finding solace in his arms during storms feel like they only happened yesterday. He's like the lavender scent on fresh laundry, how no matter how time passes, it still lingers.

I have to forget him.

Or at least, pretend that what we had never was.

Madame Newmister hovers over me, her back more hunched than the day before. "I see you've decided to wrap those bloody knuckles of yours," she grumbles.

She taps her foot against the soapy tiles. There's dried mud on her shoes, and it mucks up what I've already cleaned. I bite my tongue between my teeth to prevent myself from lashing out.

"How come you never dared to tell me that you work under the Leveque's?" Madame Newmister questions.

Bloody hell. I lift my head. I keep my association with the Leveque's a secret. It's not something I want the world to know about me. It's better they view me as someone with nothing, rather than someone who's blessed to live with one of the most esteemed families in New Aberdeen. How did she find out?

"There was no need too, madame," I answer.

"Then there shouldn't be a need for you to work here," she hisses. "There must be plenty you can do at their estate."

"No," I answer, a little too quickly. "This is fine."

"Evelyn must be paying you more than you need, so you will accept a pay cut then, hmm? It's not good for a girl like you to be careless with her money."

Evelyn pays me with hospitality, not money. It's why she prompted me to get a job outside of the estate. If I ever want to get on my own two feet, then I have to keep this job, because it's the only job I can get besides selling myself on the streets like my mother.

But of course, Madame Newmister would search out any reason to knock me down. If life were a ladder, I'd still be waiting at the bottom, fingers laced over the wooden edges as Madame Newmister kicked it over from the top.

I hate this woman, hate that she hardly gives a damn about me.

I avoid Madame Newmister's squinting eyes as waves of anger boil within me. "Yes, madame. I understand."

She crosses her arms, a smug look of victory crossing her lips.

"Madame Leveque requested that I let you off early today in order to prepare for Cato Leveque's return, and I do not intend to disappoint her." She sighs and flickers her wrist to the exit. "Dismiss yourself. You can make up the hours tomorrow."

━ ◦ ❖ ◦━

I burst through the doors of the Leveque estate and rush up the stairs, hoping not to catch the sight of anyone in the estate. Certainly Evelyn must want me for something if she tracked me down at work and requested me to leave early, all while giving Madame Newmister a reason to give me a pay cut.

I strip myself from my hospital dress and into something more proper for the occasion. I braid my blonde locks back again, attempting to control the wild golden stays that spring out. I gaze in the mirror, and I see the same image everyone else sees.

Daughter of a prostitute, tainted with bloody cracked knuckles, with nothing more than the clothes on her back.

Although Evelyn was the first to acknowledge that my mother and I are not the same, Cato was the second. He saw me as Maureen, not Belle, the alleged name of my mother. Now I'm older, more developed, an even more beckoning siren of beauty.

There's a harsh knocking on the door. Before I can answer, Evelyn rushes in, shutting the door behind her in her haste.

"I thought I heard you run up the stairs," she speaks quickly, her voice jittery with adrenaline. "I apologise for having to track you down at work, but I need you to be here this evening. Only the most trusted of my servants can be on duty around Cato, and I know he held a soft spot for you back when he lived here."

I force myself to look into her green eyes as an attempt to hide the hidden desire for Cato filling my blood. "May I be honest with you, Evelyn?"

"Of course, darling," she gives me the softest smile. "Nobody can hear us speaking here."

I fiddle with the skirt of my dress. How can I find the words to tell her—Evelyn Leveque, lady of the house—that I want to disobey her orders and avoid Cato this evening?

"I'm just so happy he's finally returning," I find myself saying. A lie, really.

Evelyn beams. "I have you scheduled to serve dinner this evening before the real excitement begins after dusk. Once you're prepared, go and find Annie and then report to the kitchen. Augustine will be waiting for you."

I nod my head, but my stomach crawls up my throat at the thought of serving Cato and his family.

He will see me, but will he recognize me?

I saunter down the stairs to the main floor and head towards the kitchen. Most of the maids avoid the main floor, probably because Evelyn ordered them to keep their space from Cato. Instead, security replaces them. Strange men stand near the exits, each one of them garbed with a rifle on their back and mics in their ear. It's extravagant measures, yet required to keep commoners from wandering onto the property.

"Maureen!" I lift my head, only to be tackled by Annie. She grips her nails into my arm, spinning me around in her embrace. When she pulls away, she holds my shoulders tightly. "It's almost time! Augustine's been on my ass about not being late for prepping meals."

Augustine is Audwin and Evelyn's chef within their estate. Between the servants, we all rotate on who gets kitchen duty, but after paying close attention to the rotation, it's clear who his favourites are.

Annie tugs on my wrist, then looks down at the cloth bandages around my knuckles. "Oh my goodness, what happened to your hand?"

"It's nothing. Just cracked skin."

"Is this from that job you took at the hospital as a human mop?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm not a human mop. I just clean the floors."

"Whatever this is from, you need to clean it," Annie hisses and points down the corridor. "If any of the Leveque's see this, they'll have a heart attack."

"I'll be fine. Let's just get to the kitchen."

"Maureen," her voice drops into a harsh whisper. "Don't you want to impress Cato? I'd do anything to get into that man's pants for a night."

My cheeks instantly blush at the mention of his name, and then burn like fire at the idea of being intimate with Cato. Although, it wouldn't be the first time fantasies of that man cross my innocent naïve mind. Those nights when I caress my fingers against the notches in my bedpost, I close my eyes and imagine his rough fingertips tracing the ridges in my spine, lower and lower until his fingertips dance between my thighs.

"What does my bandaged knuckles have to do with getting into Cato's pants?"

"Gosh, you're blushing so hard right now," Annie giggles. "You do want to impress Cato!"

"Stop it," I hiss, scanning the hallways to make sure no one can hear her. "It's from the hospital. The soap might clean the floors, but it causes my skin to crack and bleed."

"It's still not something that the Leveque's want to see," she mumbles. "Now hurry up and get that cleaned up! I'll get started without you."

Once again, I make my way back to my room. How could I forget to redress the bandages? Would it be best to expose the raw, swollen, and scabbed skin? Certainly it would give the wrong image of the Leveque's. Despite being a lowly servant, mistreating the maidservants and butlers gives guests of the Leveque's the wrong impression of their ability to care for us.

I cross an intersection in the corridors towards the stairwell, only to be stopped by a set of low voices. I turn my head, catching the fading sunlight cascading through the glass windows of Audwin's study. Audwin sits behind his desk, as he converses with a man sitting in a seat across from him.

"I think it would be a good consideration for your company," the stranger's voice rumbles in such a low, calculated tone.

"Leveque Corp does not need to expand in such a way, and I have no intentions on funding this ridiculous idea of yours," Audwin grumbles.

The low voice chuckles, warming me from the tips of my toes to my lips. "Like I need the funding. It'd be good press, though."

"You already have all the attention you need with those video interviews and magazine covers. Like the press needs to feed your ego more."

He chuckles. "Don't lie to me. I know you've done a ton of interviews and press conferences."

"Nothing your mother is too proud of."

The stranger's posture tightens. "I'm surprised she's still here after that image surfaced of you and that whore."

Audwin Leveque may be the man of the house, but his unfaithful nature is what puts a knife between his and Evelyn's relationship. Evelyn might not show heartbreak, but all of us servants and handmaidens catch her withering behind her vibrant green eyes.

"The romance may have ended, but I still need that woman," he grumbles with a sigh. "This place would be nothing without her."

I close my eyes, waiting for a response from the stranger so his voice can warm me like fudge.

"Maureen," Audwin's raised voice snaps me back to reality. "Isn't there something better you should be doing?"

Audwin and the stranger stare at me, both sets of eyes lit like fire.

My jaw drops with a stifled gasp.

I was a fool to ever think that man was a stranger.

Blazing green eyes study me, and the sunlight captures the slightly messy waves of his chestnut brown hair. His once stone lips curl into a slight smirk. He dresses in a suit, his tie missing, and the top few buttons on his shirt undone to expose bits of his muscular chest. Oh gods, he's delicious. The fantasies engulf me, and all the memories I attempted to suppress find their way into my fragile heart.

Cato Leveque.

Before his perfection blinds me, I run away back up the stairs, locking myself away from the boy that broke my heart.

━ ◦ ❖ ◦━

He's here, folks! Cato is back in town and hotter than ever.

Are we charmed by our handsome astronaut yet?

Updated August 5, 2022.