Chapter 7

Vivianna

I nearly dropped the tray of drinks. Amy’s description of the Manson men as being drop-dead gorgeous was a massive understatement. Especially Damon Manson.

He also kept staring at me. The way his eyes trapped mine for what seemed longer than a casual glance, made it hard to think straight. His ocean-blue eyes followed me along, making the tray tremble under my hands.

Why was he staring? There were so many stunning women present and being just the maid, I was meant to blend in with the furniture in my non-descript uniform of white shirt and black knee-length skirt.

He said something to Janet, and then he followed her over to me. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. I looked behind me to see if they were looking at someone else.

Next minute, Samantha stood by my side and gestured. “Mr. Manson, this is Vivianna, our new maid.”

He returned his attention straight back to me. Like he might have missed something by looking away. My face burned as he stood so close, I could smell him.

His cologne rushed through me like a divine drug. The scent triggered all kinds of emotions. Like those intoxicating smells that flush us with comforting nostalgia. Only it was generally mowed grass or roses: nature’s smells, not a tall, sexy billionaire’s cologne.

My mouth trembled into an uneven smile. “Just call me, Vivi. I prefer that.”

I had to force myself to stop staring at the most handsome face I’d ever seen.

He held out his hand, and I took it. His big hand swallowed my much smaller one. As his warm and cushiony palm touched mine, a bolt of electricity sizzled through me.

I swear I felt my head wobble. His questioning, hypnotic gaze made me feel like it was just us. Everyone had faded into the background.

Going on Samantha’s confused frown, she’d noticed something happening too. I prayed this cataclysmic introduction wouldn’t affect my job there. I’m sure women’s faces burned all the time around this insanely hot man.

What might have been one second seemed like ages, and the tingling sensation from where his skin touched mine remained after he removed his hand.

“Welcome to Merivale, Vivianna.” He spoke in an arousing deep voice.

I caught myself nodding stupidly, unable to stop gaping at his gorgeous face. Forcing myself to turn away, I couldn’t risk falling into those blue eyes again.

Dizzy as though I’d downed shots of his cologne, not booze, I crept away.

What the fuck was that?

As I went about my tasks around the dining guests, I sensed his gaze burning into my skin. Keeping my eyes down, I cleared empty glasses and topped up drinks. If it hadn’t been for Damon Manson, I would have actually enjoyed myself. There was something quite elevating about being surrounded by beauty.

And by that, I didn’t just mean Mr Manson. Although, my god, how did he get that body? And that face. Those eyes that were so blue one could easily drown in them.

Stop it! You’re not meant to be getting hot and bothered over the boss.

I entered the kitchen and met Samantha, who was instructing the casual staff.

“How are you going?” she asked.

Apart from the threat of fainting thanks to that gorgeous Damon Manson, I’m okay.

“Um… good, thanks.”

“I need you to help with the serving of first course. Jim, one of the butlers, isn’t well.”

“Sure.” I hoped that Damon Manson wouldn’t look at me, because I was likely to drop soup in someone’s lap. “I’ll just go back and clear a few more glasses from the front room.”

A very pretty girl who reminded me of Emily Blunt entered the kitchen and sashayed over to us.

“Samantha, can you be a sweetheart and help me with something.” She glanced over at me.

“This is Vivi, our new maid.” Samantha turned to me. “This is Sara Manson.”

I held out my hand. “Pleased to meet you.” I smiled. “You look lovely.”

Her face brightened. “Why, thank you.” She studied me for a moment. “I hope you like it here. I’ll try not to be too demanding.” She looked at Samantha and smirked.

Watching them walk off, I felt a tinge of envy. I gathered Sarah didn’t lack for anything. A click of the finger and presto: beautiful clothes, cool friends, and an easy life. I did like her style. She wore a purple-and-blue knee-length dress, with an asymmetrical neckline and midriff cut-outs, that draped elegantly over her slim body.

I exited the kitchen and walked among a group of young men. One turned and smiled. “You’re new. I haven’t seen you before.”

I nodded as he placed his empty bottle on my tray. “Can I bring you another?”

He shook his head. “I’m Evan, the son.” His mouth turned up at one end.

Another stunner, but very different to Damon. Unlike his intense brother, Evan struck me as light and playful.

“And your name?” Evan asked.

“Vivi.”

“Well, Vivi, I hope you enjoy your time here.”

“Thanks, that’s kind of you.” I smiled and carried the tray away carefully with two slightly trembly hands.

After the guests settled at the large dining table, I was placed on drinks duty and instructed to ensure that everyone’s wine was topped up.

Easy enough, one would have thought, only with Damon Manson at the table interrupting his conversation to stare at me, I found myself having to take deep breaths, and was close to hyperventilating. Talk about nerve-wracking.

A beautiful, bubbly woman sat by his side and while she seemed to be chatty, gesturing expressively with her hands, Damon Manson responded with the occasional nod. His face neutral, if not somewhat uninterested.

Genna Manson, the mother and, judging from how she commanded the discussion, the head of the house, sat regally at one end of the table, while Mr. Manson, who I met earlier on, insisting I call him Harry, sat at the other end. He laughed a lot, and since I kept topping up his glass, I gathered he liked to drink.

Unsurprisingly, Sarah had many admirers. Young guys hanging on her every word, while Evan sat between a pair of beautiful women, chatting and laughing loudly.

With main course served, I was given a break and decided to go outside for some air. Dying to sit down, I headed for the courtyard area by the servant’s quarters. There I found a girl and a man lost in conversation. When they noticed me, they waved for me to join them.

“You’re new around here. I’m Mike, the cook.”

“I’m Vivi.” I smiled.

“And I’m Rose,” the girl said. “I normally do what you do, but I was in the kitchen tonight. We’re down on staff.”

I virtually flopped onto the chair. “You don’t mind me sitting here?”

“Not all. We can fill you in on all the goss.” She giggled.

Mike looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Don’t get her started.”

Rose slapped his arm. “You love it. You just pretend not to be interested.”

“You make it sound like a soap opera.” I chuckled.

“Oh, it can be that,” Mike said.

“You’ve been here for a while?” I asked.

Rose nodded. “We both started four years ago. So have you met the family?”

“I have. They seem nice,” I said. “Not that I’ve had a chance to chat to them. Just a few words with the younger members.”

“Damon’s only been back for a few months. He doesn’t live here, though. He’s in the village. Lives in a converted church.”

“Oh? That’s different,” I said.

“He is different,” Mike said.

“In a good way,” Rose added. “He’s a bit serious. But he’s respectful. Keeps to himself. He went to Afghanistan, you know. Story has it, he’s changed a lot. We’ve noticed it, haven’t we?” She looked at Mike who responded with a nod.

“He’s not married?” I asked.

“None of them are. Sarah has a different boy a month. Evan’s a playboy, and Damon sees Susanna on and off, we think,” Rose said. “She’s here tonight. All over him. She’s a photographic model.”

That figures.

I glanced down at my watch. “I guess I should go in and help with clearing the table.”

“I’ll be there in a minute to help,” Rose said.

Just as I was stepping into the hallway, I nearly bumped into Damon and only just managed to avoid a collision.

“I’m so sorry.” An apologetic smile quivered on my lips.

Once again, his penetrating gaze paralysed me. He frowned as though trying to solve a puzzle.

My face burned and a dizzy sensation swept through me. No male had ever affected me like this. I’d never allowed myself to be charmed or become tongue-tied like my gushing girlfriends. That wasn’t me. At all. I don’t even think I blinked. I must have looked like a stunned rabbit in car lights.

Just as those sculptured, luscious lips parted to say something, his mother joined him.

“There you are. I need you to have a word with your father.” She glanced briefly at me.

Does she think I’m flirting with her billionaire son?

“One minute,” he said in a deep, resonant voice that made him seem even more powerful.

I wanted that job more than anything, so I scuttled away before falling into those aquamarine eyes again.

What was he about to say to me?

I entered the dining room where the conversation had grown a lot louder, and pushing a trolley along, I collected plates, looking down to avoid Damon, who at that moment was helping his very drunk father off his chair.

I loaded dishes with half-eaten lobster and all kinds of delicious untouched food that, had it been London, I would have taken home. That’s how I saved on grocery bills, by filling my bag with uneaten scraps.

But I’d already eaten what to me was a banquet of roast beef and veggies and a delicious apple pie dessert. Thanks to this new job’s generous conditions, my meals were provided for during my five-day- working hours.

And with that comforting thought warming my belly, I pushed aside nagging questions about the owner of those soul-piercing eyes and continued clearing the table.

As I leaned over to collect a dirty plate, one of the older guests groped my bottom. Jumping back, I gasped, and my teeth cut into my lip, close to drawing blood.

For some reason, I glanced over at Damonn, who’d seen what had happened.

Before my next breath, which took a while to arrive, he pounced on the man, pulled the seat out, forcing Mr. Conner to stagger to his feet.

The drunken guest lifted his arms up in protest. “I didn’t mean it. It was a slip of the hand.” He chuckled dismissively.

Having removed his blazer, Damon was all muscle, going on the rippling mounds clinging to his tailored shirt. I thought his muscular arms would burst through the fabric as he went into battle mode.

Sweat poured down my armpits.

What the fuck’s happening?

Even though I wanted to knock the prick’s teeth out myself, I had to play it cool.

“Apologise and then fuck off.” Damon’s face darkened.

The drunk grinned as though this was a joke. “Hey, Damon, it was just a bit of fun.”

The last thing I needed was a scene of my own making. Well not really my own making. But I’d become the centre of attention.

“Fucking apologise, Dyland,” Damon demanded, standing intimidatingly close to the creepy drunk.

A woman next to Dyland, and the whole table, for that matter, stopped what they were doing and watched on as though riveted by a gripping drama. I just wished I wasn’t in the starring role.

I wanted to shrivel into a ball and become invisible.

“Look, it’s okay,” I whispered to Damon, barely able to breathe. My eyes welled up, and my throat constricted as I fought off a panic attack.

“No, it’s not okay,” he snapped, glaring at the staggering drunk.

Within a flash, Genna Manson joined the fray and tugged on her son’s bulging arm.

“He can’t go around touching up the maid and somehow it’s all fine.”

“Darling, come with me.” She looked up at her guests and raised her eyebrows with a forced smile as though to say “boys will be boys.”

She widened her eyes at Dyland, who licking his wounds, wore a fabricated apologetic smile.

He turned to me. “Sorry, love, it was just a slip of the hand.”

Love? Really? Arsehole.

I couldn’t resist a sarcastic smirk before hurrying away with the trolley.

Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was his fondling, or Damon defending me, but I needed a good howl.

Samantha approached me. “Are you okay?”

My mouth trembled. It took all my inner strength to avoid an emotional eruption. “I’m fine.”

Her eyes shone with sympathy as though she’d also experienced being touched up by a drunken guest or two in the past. “Take a few minutes off.”

“Thanks.” I hesitated. “Um… I hope I’m not going to lose my job over this.”

She wore a sad smile. “You’ll be all right, love. Just take a breather. It will all calm down. These dinners are famous for outbursts. I’ve seen punch-ups. Arguments. You name it.”

Now that took me by surprise. “Really? In this scene?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the stuff that goes on in this family.”

As fascinating as that comment was, I was glad to find myself alone in the bathroom, where I plonked myself down on the toilet, buried my face in my hands and cried.

It was more than Dyland’s groping. My tears came from all the attention. The fuss and plain old confusion. I also sometimes just cried. There was something releasing about those warm tears, although triggered by pain, I always felt calmer afterwards.

After fixing my face in the mirror, I went into the kitchen for a glass of Coke. I needed some pepping up and just as I emptied my glass, Damon entered.

His eyes landed on mine and held me captive again.