“The young master is in your room, Miss. He’s taking his nap since he tends to have free time around this hour,” a butler told Brook.
“Thanks!” Brook called over her shoulder as she sped off. “Oh,” she added, “call me Brook!”
Brook quietly opened the door without a sound. The room was dark, the curtains drawn and the blinds closed. A giant cocoon of blankets wrapped like a sushi roll lay on the left side of the bed.
It didn’t stir. Brook crept up to it without making a sound, applying the skills she learned back at IHG to the current situation with great care.
As she approached it, Brook saw the top of Nathan’s black head sticking out of the cocoon along with a gaping hole in the wall beside the lamp. What happened?
As she crept closer, a muffled growl suddenly came from the thing.
“If it’s nothing important, leave immediately. I thought I told you not to bother me unless something was on fire.”
“Oh, well if you say so…” Brook replied nonchalantly, guessing Nathan thought she was a servant. She was right.
The cocoon suddenly had this foot shaped spike coming out of it, and the entire thing bulged in multiple places before it rolled to the ground. Brook quickly stepped away so it wouldn’t land on her feet and Nathan eventually threw back the covers.
His hair was askew, cowlicks everywhere, with one section of his hair looking like the crest of a cockatoo’s. Brook took one look at his comical yet dead serious appearance and burst out laughing.
“What,” she gasped, “is up with your-”
She stopped. Nathan looked at her solemnly and then turned around to shove the blanket off.
“I’m sorry,” Nathan repeated when he got up. “It was extremely rude and I should control my mood swings better.”
Brook stared. “What the heck?”
“What?” Nathan asked, completely confused by her reaction.
“Why did you apologize so easily?” she asked, almost outraged with Nathan’s behavior.
Brook paused to read his face. There was only blank confusion and even mild amusement despite not getting the situation. Then it hit her.
Most people, including herself, would never apologize so suddenly in order to maintain their pride. Nathan, on the other hand, didn’t see the reason behind withholding an owed apology, and as Brook thought about it, neither did she.
Saying you were sorry never hurt anyone; not even your own pride. Nobody would think poorly of you for apologizing when she should. Yet, everyone around Brook would have done the exact opposite. Talk about easier said than done.
Brook watched him with quiet eyes. Nathan raised an eyebrow.
“You are incredibly mature, you know.”
“Where did that come from?”
YOU ARE READING
The Indentured Mistress of a 'Human'Romance
Number 31 was bought immediately at the first auction by a guy named Nathan Walker, an 18 year old royal in need of a mistress. And so Number 31 was offered the chance at freedom on one of the "indenture" reserves; but at a horrible price. She must...