Ariana’s POV
The kitchen was absolute chaos, with chefs shouting and pots clanging.
Ovens were beeping.
Plates were crashing.
The Anderson mansion was preparing for Natasha’s engagent dinner, which was the night her mysterious billionaire fiancé from New York would finally be revealed.
I had been on my feet since five in the morning, scrubbing, polishing, and dusting every surface that had to shine to be perfect. Every detail had to be
flawless.
That was what Mrs. Anderson demanded, and her daughter
Mrs. Anderson had been pacing the halls all day with her heels clicking on the marble floor like a countdown.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
She was nervous and was excited at the sa ti. One could tell this dinner would determine her daughter’s future and strengthen their status in the business world, as well as the lavish lifestyle they were used to, but even more now.
Natasha was worse than her mother; she had been screaming at everyone since sunrise, the maids, chefs, all the workers in the house, even her own mother, nothing was good enough or perfect enough... nothing was worthy of her and her mysterious fiance.
"I want the roses on the left side of the table, not the right!" Natasha shrieked at one of the maids. "Can’t you do anything right? Do I have to do everything myself?"
The maid apologized and moved the roses.
Natasha inspected them with a frown and walked away.
She found sothing else to complain about.
I kept my head down and my mouth shut. I did my job by staying invisible. That was the key to surviving in this house.
Amaya was beside , polishing silverware; her hands were moving fast. She looked far too calm. She knew how to handle the chaos and how to handle Natasha.
She knew how to handle Mrs. Anderson.
"Four more hours," Amaya whispered. "Four more hours and this will all be over."
I nodded. "Four more hours. I can do that."
Amaya looked at with a chuckle. "You look tired, chile. You’ve been working too hard; you need to rest."
I shook my head. "I’m fine. I just want this night to be over and go to bed."
Amaya smiled, "I know, right? It’s very exhausting."
I groaned before picking up a tray of trash."I’m going to take this out of the dumpster, which is overflowing. "
Amaya nodded. "Be careful, the family is everywhere. Don’t do anything that would get you in trouble. Don’t let them—"
"I know," I interrupted. "I can’t even deal with them.. I’ll try to stay out of the way."
She nods, and I leave, walking outside into the cold air, hitting my face. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
I walked to the dumpster and lifted the lid, throwing the trash inside.
I stood there for a mont, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
"Emily."
My heart stopped.
Phillip Anderson was standing a few feet away with his hands in his pockets.
"Mr. Anderson," I said with my voice steady. Thank God. "You startled . I didn’t hear you approach."
Phillip stepped close to his shoes, which crunched on the gravel. "I’ve been calling your na for a minute. You didn’t hear ; you seem to be so lost in thought."
I shook my head. "I’m sorry. I didn’t an to ignore you. I was just... I was focused on the trash."
Phillip stopped a few feet away, looking at .
"Why are you avoiding ?" he asked, his voice was quiet, but there was sothing underneath.
I blinked. "I’m not avoiding you. I’ve been busy with so much work. I haven’t had ti to—"
"You’ve been avoiding ," he interrupted. "Every ti I co near you, you find a reason to leave."
I felt my heart pound. "I told you I’ve been busy. The Andersons require—"
"The Andersons require a lot of things," Phillip said. "But they don’t require you to hide from ."
I looked down at the ground. I couldn’t look at him.
His eyes were too intense.
"I’m not pretending anything," I said. "I’m just doing my job. I’m just trying to stay out of trouble and—"
"Go out with ," Phillip said.
The words hung in the air.
I looked up at him. "What?"
"Go out with this weekend, Saturday, you owe that to at least."
I shook my head. "I can’t, I’m sorry. I have work, and I can’t just take—"
"Emily." His voice was firm, not angry, just firm. "You work seven days a week. You never take a day off or do anything for yourself... It’s just one afternoon, and you don’t have to worry about the housekeeper. I’d handle her."
I honestly didn’t want to start sothing I couldn’t finish. I’ve been giving him indirect signals that I didn’t want whatever he was trying to do, and sohow, he doesn’t seem to get the information. "Mr. Anderson, I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I can’t. ...It’s not appropriate, I an, you’re the son of the family I work for and—"
"Please"
"Mr. Anderson—"
"Phillip," he corrected. "Please call Phillip, not Mr. Anderson, just Phillip."
I swallowed. "Phillip, I’m sorry. I can’t go out with you. It’s not personal. It’s just... I have my reason, I can’t explain. Reasons that have nothing to do with you."
Phillip was quiet for a mont, studying my face or what he could see of it behind the mask. "Is it because of the mask? Is it because you’re hiding sothing? Is it because you’re afraid I won’t accept you?"
I shook my head. "It’s not about the mask. It’s not about you, it’s about . I’m not... I’m not interested in whatever this"
Phillip nodded slowly. "I understand, I respect that, but I’m not asking you to share your secrets. I’m just asking you to have coffee with . One cup of coffee. That’s all."
I felt my resolve weakening.
He was persistent, patient, and kind.
"I don’t know," I said. "I have to think about it. I have to—"
"Saturday," Phillip said. "Three o’clock. I’ll pick you up at the back gate. "
He didn’t wait for my answer and turned to walk away.
I stood there.
I am not getting myself into whatever Phil wants tangled in... just one coffee and that’s it.
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