Disclaimer: This was written over 10 years ago, and the author no longer agrees with many of the concepts found in this story. Some of the content will be cringey and/or problematic. Please remember this is entirely fictional and does not represent the author's beliefs.
Twitter: dazzleizzy
Copyright © 2012-2022
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Abby's POV
I wrapped my arms around a box, testing it before I shifted its weight to fully support it. I turned around, heading back to the kitchen from the delivery truck. Since Niall had announced the New Years' Celebratory Sing-Off, everything revolved around preparing for the huge party. And from what I'd seen so far, it's going to be huge, and expensive. As I set down the box onto one of the stainless steel tables in the kitchen, I wondered why Master would spend so much money on all of his slaves, to celebrate. For all I could guess, he didn't have to do anything. We could be treated like trash, but instead, Master Zayn treated us mostly with kindness. He spent money on a party for his slaves.
Dani, who was stationed at the rows of tables along with a few others, cut open the box with the edge of a box cutter, and began to empty its contents and unpack it. Kitty and Eleanor were teamed up to take the unpacked items from the tables and to place them in the pantry and refrigerators - wherever they belonged.
He had to have some kind of ulterior motive, right? No slave owner would ever do this.
I turned around again, heading back to the back door of the kitchen to grab more boxes from the delivery truck. Outdoor were two guards posted, watching our every move, making sure we were doing exactly as told, and not trying to escape or participate in any sort of funny business. It was tedious work- carrying boxes and bags of food back and forth, but we were stocking up for the big party.
The December air was crisp and cool, the wind hitting my face as I walked over to the huge delivery truck. I wrapped my arms around a sack of flour, holding it against me as I struggled to bring it inside.
"Need help?"
I turned around to face soft blue-green eyes, a girl that that stood several inches shorter than I. I gave her a small smile, nodding. "Sure."
She grabbed one side of the heavy sack of flour, and I the other. I began moving backwards, heading back into the kitchen and she followed, only walking forwards. We shared the weight equally, and I couldn't help but feel grateful towards her as she took literally half the weight of this heavy bag.
When we finally set the bag onto an empty table, I clapped my hands, sending flour flying in all directions. The girl giggled, and I smiled at her. "I've seen you around quite a bit, but I guess we never talked?" I started, hoping to not sound too awkward.
She nodded shyly, and spoke. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I'm quite the introvert. I usually tend to keep to myself."
I brushed off her apology, walking back to the doors again to get more supplies from the delivery truck. She quickly fell in step with my pace, and I looked at her before talking again. "It's alright! I never got your name, by the way?"
"Elle."
"Elle." I repeated, to keep the name in my memory. "Elle. It's a beautiful name."
"Thanks - and you're Abby. But of course, everyone knows the newbies." She gave me a small smile. "You're quite a popular topic when it comes to gossip between us lower slaves."
I did a double take. "Gossip?"
She nodded. her hair bobbing up and down. "It's crazy. So much gossip. But I tend to stay away from it, it gets really annoying, you know?"
I gave her a quick nod, although I didn't know. These girls talked about me? Why? They didn't know about anything....unless...
"Stop fooling around, you bitches! Get back to work!" One of the guards yelled from his spot at the door, eyeing us idly standing. I immediately walked out the door of the kitchen, and Elle followed behind me.
I let out a sigh, placing my hands on my hips as I stood in front of the back of the open delivery truck. "I'm exhausted." I complained.
"Me too. We've been doing this all morning." Elle agreed.
I glanced at the inside of the truck, eyeing the work we still had remaining. "Well, we have the rest of this pallet, and two others to unload. And then we'll be done, right?"
"Right."
"We can do this! C'mon, we can just work faster." I pep-talked, grabbing a large sack of gala apples. She nodded quietly, and grabbed cardboard box labeled "Lemons".
I placed the bag onto the table, where Kitty immediately grabbed them and headed to the refrigerators. As Elle set the box of lemons onto the table, I frowned. "I really hate unloading."
"Me too."
And unloading was exactly what we did the rest of the morning.
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"Good job, Abby. I'mma head upstairs and clean up. I'm so exhausted." Elle high-fived me, and then wiped the sweat off her forehead. The kitchen was now empty except for the two of us - everyone had already finished their jobs.
Nodding, I grinned. "Me too. It was nice talking to you today - although it wasn't exactly fun, what we were doing." I said, referring to the unloading of he truck.
"We should definitely spend some more time together - not doing work, though." She added as an afterthought.
"Yes, definitely!" I agreed.
She started making her way to the exit of the kitchen, near the elevators. "You coming?"
I shook my head. "Go ahead. I'll be up in a few."
She gave me a confused smile, but didn't question why I was staying behind. "Alright, see you later!"
"Bye, Elle!"
When she finally left the kitchen, I took a long look around me. Since I had unloaded the potatoes, I had an idea, and I was dying to do it.
I wanted to cook steak and potatoes.
Now I knew that I probably shouldn't, or else I would get in trouble, but who was going to catch me? Everyone had already been served lunch, and Master Zayn would probably think I was in my room resting since we had worked all day long, right?
Besides, a little cooking wouldn't hurt anyone. I was going to clean up after myself, and to be honest, I'd been dying to have steak and potatoes. It was weird that I could actually say that I missed cooking like I used to before I was brought here, but I did.
So I headed over to the three-compartment industrial sink, and washed my hands with a good amount of soap. After I had dried them, I quickly made my way over to the refrigerator, where I had seen Eleanor store the raw steaks after we'd unloaded them.
I carefully unwrapped two steaks, placing them in a large aluminum bowl, and headed over to the sink to wash the meat. I let cold water wash over the two pieces of uncooked meat, cleaning it from blood and making sure the water ran clear as I washed it.
I set the aluminium bowl onto the table I was working on, and then made my way to the spice closet.
Every time that I had cooked steak before, I'd tried a variety of spices, and most of the time the food came out good, but nothing was as delicious as simple table salt and black pepper.
Once I had located those two common spices, I headed back to the station where I was working.
I sprinkled a good amount of salt, and then pepper, making sure to evenly coat the surface of the medium-thick steak.
I set the aluminum bowl aside, and headed back to the pantry where I knew the potatoes were stored.
Immediately recognizing the sack of potatoes, I opened the bag and chose three healthy-looking medium-sized ones.
On my way back to my work station table, I grabbed a multi-purpose knife, a peeler, and a cutting board.
Once I had washed the potatoes, I skillfully peeled them, and then took the knife in my hand and began to dice them into inch cubes.
A soft touch on my neck made me whirl around, defensively holding out my knife, and Master Zayn jumped back, laughing, hands up in the air. "Easy!"
I swallowed the growl in my throat, feeling stupid, and rubbed the still-tingling skin on my neck where he'd kissed it. "You should make some noise." I gestured to the knife that I had almost attacked him with, still feeling uncharitable towards him for breaking his promise to me a week or so ago.
Zayn lowered his hands and stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my stomach. "What are you doing?" He leaned his head on my shoulder, his cheek against mine.
I kept my voice light, nonchalant. "Cooking."
Zayn growled in a soft, wild way that made my gut tense with longing. He pressed his lips against my neck, not quite a kiss. "Are my state-of-the-art chefs not good enough for your taste?"
The small smile I was trying to suppress finally made its way onto my lips as I began chopping up the potatoes again. "Not quite." I said teasingly.
I turned around, facing him once I had finished cutting up the starchy root. "I just miss cooking."
He nodded slowly, as if he was processing my words. I pulled away from his arms, heading over to the closet. I looked over my shoulder, and noticed he was following me. As I entered the huge closet, my eyes immediately searched for a Pyrex pan to put the potatoes in.
Once I had spotted the glass plans, I made my way over to them, pulling a decent sized one out. Zayn uncrossed his arms, and gave me a small smile. "Can I help?"
I cocked an eyebrow, surprised that he was offering me aid. "Sure." I handed him the glass pan, and smiled. "Take this back to the table, and put all of the potatoes in it. I'll go grab a few spices and the olive oil."
His jaw dropped slightly, and he had an amused expression on his face. "I never said you could order me around, Abby."
I frowned. "But-"
"Just kidding, I know. Don't worry. Potatoes in the pan, got it." Without another word, he left me in the closet, and headed back to the table. I felt dumbfounded, confused by his friendly side of him. And he'd called me Abby? Was this even normal?
No, this was definitely not normal, but I wasn't complaining.
Once I had grabbed the olive oil and a few other spices for the potatoes, I made my way to the table were Zayn stood, adding a white powder to the steaks.
"Um, what are you doing?" I asked, approaching him cautiously.
He held up the canister from which he was sprinkling the white powder from. "It's tenderizer. It makes the steaks softer, and better."
I'd never used tenderizer before, so I just shrugged. He probably knew what he was doing, so I didn't mind.
I slid the glass pan with the potatoes over to me, and poured a bit of olive oil, making sure they were mostly coated with the flavorful liquid. I sprinkled rosemary and mint, as well as salt and pepper, and made sure they were mixed evenly.
I walked over to the sink, washing my hands from the oil. I was surprised at how relaxed and calm I was with Zayn around - that wasn't normal. Maybe it was because of the way he was being kind, gentle, and so normal. Like a regular, carefree, twenty-two year old guy. Not a powerful, threatening slaveowner, whose authority was present over everything else.
And I liked this Zayn.
"Okay, so I haven't ever used an industrial kitchen before, and these ovens and grills are weird. How do you turn them on?" I asked, walking over to one of the huge ovens.
"Like this." He leaned down, turning one of the dials. "What do you want to set the oven to for the potatoes?"
"425ºF is good."
He opened the oven, taking the pan of potatoes from the table and transferring it over to the oven.
"And now for the grill, this is how you turn it on." He walked a few feet over to the grill, and I followed him with the aluminum bowl that held the steaks in my hands.
We waited patiently for the grill to heat up, and then he placed the steaks onto the grill. I stepped back, and leaned against one of the tables as I watched him flip and turn the steaks, pressing them.down skillfully. He obviously knew what he was doing, and I couldn't help but wonder how and when he'd learned to cook.
"What?" His voice came, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I shook my head, looking into his chocolate eyes, framed with thick lashes. "Nothing. I was just thinking."
"Really? About what?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
I shook my head. "Nothing."
He rolled his eyes, frowning. "Okay, then. Go fetch some plates."
I crossed my arms imitating what he had done earlier. "You can't order me around."
He turned his back to me, his attention on turning the steaks on their other side. "Yes, I can. Now go get the plates, Abigail." His voice was serious again, and I frowned. So much for playful, carefree Zayn.
Once I had gathered two plates and eating utensils for the both of us, I set them down onto the table we were working on, and cleared away an area for us to eat. As Zayn attended to the steaks, I opened the oven, checking the potatoes to make sure they were tender. I poked one with the edge of a fork, and I immediately knew that they'd need more time.
About half an hour later, the potatoes were ready, and so were the steaks. "Bring the plates over here so I can set the steak onto them." Zayn ordered, and I quickly obeyed, grabbing up the two white ceramic plates and walking over to his side. Once he set the steaks carefully onto the plates, I took the plates back to the table and set them down. Grabbing the potholders that sat on the table, I headed to the oven to pull out the diced potatoes.
I carefully pulled them out, and set them onto the table, admiring my work.
"This looks really good." Zayn commented, and I nodded in agreement.
I took a big wooden spoon and scooped a good amount of potatoes into Zayn's plate before scooping some into mine, right next to our steaks. In the time that we had waited for the food to be cooked, I had pulled out some fresh parsley to chop and use to garnish, so I took a bit in between my fingers, sprinkling it over the potatoes and steaks.
"The final touch. Voìla!" I said dramatically, and Zayn chuckled at my silliness.
"Would you like some wine?" He offered, heading to the wine cellar.
I knew I was a lightweight, and that I probably shouldn't drink because I tended to do stupid things when I got tipsy, but I wanted to enjoy this moment with Zayn, so I nodded my head and smiled. "Sure."
He came back with an expensive-looking bottle of wine, and two glasses. He set them down carefully, and popped open the cork of the bottle.
Dark maroonish liquid poured out of the bottle and into the glasses. He picked up the glass by its neck, and handed it over to me.
"Thank you."
He picked up his glass and held it up, cocking his eyebrow. "A toast?"
I picked up my glass. "A toast, to what?"
"Anything you'd like."
I thought about it for a second. "A toast to steak and potatoes."
He burst out laughing, clinking his glass against mine. "Of course. To steak and potatoes."
I giggled, and took a sip out of the glass. It was sweet, but burnt as it went down my throat. I quickly dug into the steak, and Zayn did the same.
When we had finished our meal standing up, I quickly gathered the dishes, and took them to the sink. When I turned on the water from the faucet, a hand fell on my shoulder and turned me around.
"Leave it. The chefs are going to come in here in a while to prepare for dinner, they'll take care of the mess."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
He nodded. "Come, I want to show you something."
I set the plates down in the sink, and turned off the faucet. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me into his side as he led me out of the kitchen.
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