I only hope I’ve made the right choice.
“We need to make sure this is done to perfection,” I say to the girls in my group.
We’re all dressed in dark polos and black slacks. Our hair is tied back and we’re wearing comfy, black shoes. We’re ready to serve. Ready to show him we can do as he asks. Ready to earn some trust. Ready to get ourselves ahead enough to find a way out of this place.
“What if we fall, or slip?” Number Seven murmurs, rubbing her hands nervously together.
“It’s going to be okay,” I soothe. “Just pay attention to what you’re doing, and don’t worry about anyone or anything else. We’re going to get this done efficiently.”
“There’s so many people,” Number Twelve says, her face is pale.
“You’ll be fine,” I try to reassure her, but the truth is I feel just as ill as she does.
I look over to Number Three who is just staring out the window. She’s been off today, and barely saying anything. Her eyes are empty, and her shoulders are slumped. Like the effort to lift them is just too hard.
“Number Three?” I say softly. “Are you okay?”
She nods briskly. “Let’s just get this done.”
Something is going on in her mind, something deep and dark. I don’t have time to help her now, but I hope that maybe tonight, after all this is finished, I might get to talk to her.
We all straighten our clothes and head out to the kitchen. Number Eleven took charge, and has everything laid out on nice platters. We all take one, breathing in a steadying breath before entering the massive ballroom in the middle of the house.
I gasp as I step into the well-decorated space. The floor is polished, and so shiny it squeaks as we walk over it. There are massive chandeliers hanging from the roof, and tables are beautifully presented throughout the space, all decorated with white tablecloths and sparkling-light table pieces.
There are people mingling everywhere, all of them wearing masks. The women look elegant, with long beautiful dresses and dainty masks. The men look masculine and mysterious, all suited up.
“Would you like some?” I say, approaching the first group.
“Oh, thank you.” A red-haired woman smiles, and picks up a canapé with her bright-red fingernails.
I take the platter around the group, and then continue walking through the room. This isn’t so bad. I’m doing well, and I haven’t screwed up. As far as I can see, neither have the other girls.
I step into the next group, and when the people turn and move, I see that familiar shator is polimask. My heart stammers, and I struggle to catch my breath as once more I lay my eyes on William.
So perfect.
He lifts his gaze when he notices me, and the eye I can see connects with mine, causing little shivers to run over my skin. He doesn’t smile, but the look he’s giving me is...intense. I keep my shoulders straight as I offer everyone something from the tray. William leans forward, his lips coming down to graze my ear. He murmurs, “You’re doing a impeccable job, Beauty.”
He didn’t say Beauty in Romanian. My face heats up.
He stands up straight and reaches out, plucking a prawn piece off the tray. Still feeling my cheeks flaming, I turn, and continue taking the trays around. When they’re empty, I take them back to the kitchen for the next course. By the time we make it back out, everyone is seated. We all take a few tables each, and start serving the entrée.
I hear a loud crash just as I’m placing the last plate onto one of my tables. Snapping my head up, I see Number Three on her knees with a tall man leaning down to help her. She’s quickly picking up a few broken dishes off the floor, muttering something. I swallow, turning my eyes to Master William. He’s watching her, but he doesn’t look angry.
I turn my attention back to Number Three as she stands and backs up. Just as I’m about to turn around and take my tray back into the kitchen, I hear a deep, throaty male voice laugh loudly. I stare at the man who was helping Number Three, and I see he’s got a napkin in his hand, and he’s waving it around. “Is this a joke, William?”
My body tingles all over.
What has she done?
William looks over to him, and says, “A joke?”
The man, who is in his early thirties, with cropped brown hair and warm brown eyes, waves the napkin around, and then looks back to Number Three. Then he reads the words that are clearly written on the white piece. Oh God. She didn’t...she didn’t.
“It says Help me, I’m being kept here against my will. Call the police.”
My entire body feels like it turns to liquid. No. Oh God, what is wrong with her? Why would she write that on a napkin and hand it to a stranger? I rush over quickly because Number Three starts to cry. This isn’t good. William will punish us for this, because she was careless enough to hand just anyone a desperate note. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why she did it, but I also know it was a stupid move.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” William says, his voice gruff.
It’s then I catch sight of Ben. He lifts his mask, and stares over at me. God, if William looks like him...
“Why is the girl crying?” he says, his gaze curious.
I have to think fast. If I don’t get William out of this, we’re in big trouble, and it’s a trouble I don’t want. If we lose our privileges, how will we ever find a way to escape? That is not an option for me, and I certainly won’t be letting this ruin every bit of determination I’ve built up.