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I'm nervous about this dinner. There are certain ways I have to act and everything is basically scripted by a minute. God forbid anything goes wrong. Mr and Mrs Welch will bite my head off. Milena didn't have to tell me that, I already know.

There are not a lot of guests. Just four men and a woman. And I also notice Mrs Welch doesn't join them at the table.

I'm wearing my outfit because I haven't gotten any other orders about it and I don't want to try to experiment and try to test Mr Welch's limits now that I got the contract. I'm embarrassed to be parading around like I'm in a whore house, but I'm relieved no one knows me at least.

When I walk into the dining room for the first time, I keep my head hanging low, not looking anyone in the eyes. It's me showing respect and I don't have any desire to see the reaction of everyone who sees me in this outfit. I hate it enough as it is.

I pour Mr Welch a small amount of wine so he can taste it and either approve or disapprove which is going to tell us which wine we'll pour tonight. I don't know why rich people have to go through so much hassle over a simple wine, but I probably don't understand it because I'm not a drinker.

Mr Welch picks the glass and circles with it, bringing the wine to his nose before he places it to his mouth. I try not to watch it, but it's so mesmerising, I don't even realise I'm flat out staring. I feel a few stares on me and I quickly avert my gaze down on the bottle I'm still holding, waiting for Mr Welch's review.

When I feel his eyes on me, I look at him, too, and he nods, approving of the choice. I nod back and start pouring the glasses - the guests always get everything first.

The table quieted down since I walked in and I don't let it bother me. I feel them staring, especially men, and it makes me uncomfortable. It feels like I'm on some kind of auction.

When I come back around to Mr Welch, standing beside him, he stops me by placing his hand directly on the back of my thigh, his warm palm spread fully over my flesh. That surprises me so much, I almost drop the whole bottle of wine down the floor.

My eyes flash to his in a question, trying not to make any sudden movements so I don't call any attention to us. "Water for me, Cassandra," he says, his fingers moving just an inch and it feels like he's caressing my thigh.

I nod tightly, going to the small table on the right where there are glasses and cool water with plates for the night.

I bring the water to Mr Welch with my stomach in knots and when I start pouring the water, his hand comes back, this time under my skirt, placing it higher on my leg and travelling even higher.

My skin erupts out in chills and I squeeze my legs tightly together when his hand wraps around my inner thigh.

I feel him look at me, but I keep staring down at the glass with my lips parted, focusing on not spilling the water out and causing a scene. And then I feel his touch get firmer, trying to move my legs apart.

I don't let him, though. As soon as I pour the glass, I move away, forcing his hand away and giving him a confused look, mixed with a little bit of anger. Why is a married man, who's also my boss, touching me at the dinner party?

I get back to the kitchen, breathing hard, putting a hand on my chest. "What happened?" Milena looks at me weirdly.

I jump up. I haven't even noticed her here. I quickly shake my head, trying not to look too suspicious. "Nothing, I'm just not really used to this. It's going to be okay, though." At least I hope so. Because if Mrs Welch ever finds out about what just happened, she's going to cut my head off and then she's going to fire me.

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