Phantom of House Beneviento (Donna X Fem Reader)

Chapter 4: Visitors

Exhaustion finally put you into a deep cold until something cold and hard hit you; you shot out of bed with your hands on your head as you yowled in pain. When you opened your eyes, Angie stood there with her fists on her hips and a scowl that would make the paint peel off in fright. You glanced over to your door to find that she had scooted the desk enough for her to slip through, and somehow you didn't wake to it. Her presence for once towered over you, and you slinked into the bed while pulling up the covers in an attempt to hide yourself. She yanked them off then smacked you again in the thigh with a large, metal, soup spoon. You yelped loudly and placed one hand over the red welt now appearing on your thigh.

"It's nearly 10 o' clock! Get up you lazy sack of potatoes. What are you still doing in bed? Why do you have your desk behind the door? Trying to get out of chores eh?" Her screechy voice hurt your head more.

"I didn't sleep well last night, I thought I heard something out in the hall and I panicked." You lied.

"I don't care. Get up! We have a lot of work to do." She ordered.

"Don't we always?" You remarked.

She had started to hobble away when she shot you a deathly look, "Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters are arriving today. They'll be here in a few hours! Now get up before I hit you again."

When Angie slithered out of the room, and you sighed in relief that she didn't know about last night; or she did and was waiting to kill you after you helped.  After you changed as fast as you could, you pushed the desk back to its original spot then freshened up in the bathroom. The cold tap water startled you awake enough to put on your game face and act like nothing happened. Downstairs Angie was furiously sweeping the main entrance, it was always clean from lack of use but you decided to not push your luck today. Instead of asking, you went straight for the supply closet, grabbed the mop, and followed over where Angie swept with it. The two of you worked in silence, aside from the occasional grunt or hacking cough from the old woman. Every so often you would glance up at her to read her expression for any sign of knowledge to last night, but per usual she was unreadable.

That didn't shake the feeling of uneasiness, not the same kind that you felt before with Salvatore, but anxious none-the-less. You told yourself it was only your paranoia. If you were going to get in trouble, surely something would have happened by now. The familiar ding of the workshop echoed into the hallway, Angie and you both looked up simultaneously in confusion; it wasn't time for lunch yet, and you presumed that Angie already served them breakfast. You hid the gulp that you wanted to take, maybe they were calling you. You started to put down the mop but Angie halted you and went instead, now your heart started to race again: this was it. She would find out about last night and you would be served up in her mysterious stew.

You quickly finished your mop job then returned it to the supply closet just as the elevator clanked to a stop on the top floor. You ran to the door and fiddled with your fingers nervously, it was better if you went out quickly rather than making her find you to drag it out. Angie waddled out with a parcel in her arms, she raised an eyebrow at you then continued to walk past in silence. Your brow furrowed but you followed her and watched as she set the parcel down on the coffee table then proceeded to motion for you to follow. She stopped at the elevator again and turned to you.

"They'll be here any minute now. I need you to go down and prepare tea, some food, and also serve the lord some lunch. I will finish up here."

Her voice was suspiciously calm, you narrowed your eyes but did as you were told. The anxiety in your chest roared with life, your heart beat fast enough it vibrated your chest, and everything felt tight on you. At least you would be doing something that always calmed you down and made you feel comfortable. In the kitchen you sported your usual apron over your clothes, rolled up your sleeves, and got to work.