Domenica (+18)

chapter eight | edited

My heart raced with anticipation, and a vibrant surge of excitement coursed through me. I am excited for my new role, as I said earlier—I would be jobless since the Gazebo is done. I'm very eager in assisting with decorations. Once we went inside, Dale immediately called everyone to gather. He explained everything towards the staff, all the things that they need to do and they need to expect. When Dale was in the middle of explaining to everyone, one of Missus Anderson's butler, Robin, came in the room and called for my name. Everyone stopped talking to glance their heads to my direction.

A sudden wave of anxiety enters my body. The gaze from their eyes are filled with a rather disbelief. I would too, to be honest. My reactions mirrored theirs as I glance to Robin. "Yes?"

"Missus Anderson requested your presence at the Styles' Mansion, Mister Stoll." He informed.

I slowly uncrossed my arms, digesting that information. I look at everyone who seemed to become confused, they must've thought, why on earth does the Missus want with my presence, and was he really that close with the Missus, how long has this been going on. At least that's what I overthink. My eyes fixated on Dale, I watched the way his jaw clenched a little bit followed with a twitch on his right eye. I frowned.

"Well, what are you waiting for Jaxon. The madam wants you." Dale spoke, giving out a get out of here gesture. A sudden itch in my throat yearned to be cleared off before I nod my head and excuse myself from everyone following Robin out of the room.

"This is the key to her car." Robin dangled the keys on his fingertips and I took it from him.

"Thanks, Robin."

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Every passing moment filled me with an inexplicable mix of excitement and curiosity. Questions formed in my mind like elusive shadows. Why had she specifically requested me for this task? It was a question that has been nagging at me ever since Robin formed out the words from his mouth. She had drivers who are reader at her disposal, any one of whom could have easily accommodated her request. So, why me?

I couldn't help but wonder if there was a hidden purpose behind this simple act of picking her up. My heart thumped in my chest. As the Styles' mansion came in view, a sense of foreboding and anticipation hung in the air. My curiosity battled with my nervousness, and I braced myself for whatever awaited me upon my arrival to meet Missus Anderson.

"Missus Anderson is in the living room waiting for you, let me show you."

"Thank you."

A wave of awe washed over me. The mansion is bigger than the Anderson's. When you walk through the entrance, you will feel like you're walking inside a European museum. The design of the Styles' mansion is heavy on that, and I find it very cool and very classic. It's like a world where every detail had been carefully curated to create an ambiance of timeless elegance. It was a place where wealth and luxury had combined to create a living work of art, and I couldn't help but be captivated by it. I thought you're gonna miss the homey feeling but with the amount of money you have on your bank account, I think you'd care more for the aesthetics.

"Jaxon,"

I stepped in the huge living room and I am immediately enveloped in a world of art and antiquities. The walls were adorned with an impressive collection of paintings, each a masterpiece in its own right. I feel like I had walked into a gallery rather than a living space. It wasn't just the paintings that held my attention. There were also sculptures of beautiful women, each one a celebration of grace and elegance.

My eyes are finally fixated on Missus Anderson, she looks beautiful today, not that she never was. She's wearing a strapless black dress that stops at her knees, her hair's wrapped in a bun, her face painted with what seemed to be a light makeup. I watched as Missus Anderson sets down her cup on the table, she stuck out her arm to me making a gesture for me to approach her. As I stand beside her, I caught a whiff of her fragrance brushed across my nose, she smells very sweet. Missus Anderson guided my body to turn towards a man who I assume is the owner of this mansion. The man is sitting with one leg across the other, wearing a burgundy robe, he has a long hair that ended on his shoulders. He looks at me with a pursed lips before pushing himself off from his seat, clearing his throat while tightening the rope of his robe.