From between my lashes I see a figure slide into the room, dressed in all black, his face covered with the red mask that denotes him as house staff. In the lead-up to Halloween, each staff member wears a simple red silk mask that covers the face from forehead to lips. It allows for anonymity for those staff members who prefer it, and it adds to the air of mystery in the house.
“Excuse me?” A soft, nervous voice. Melodic. American accent. “Uh, excuse me, sir?”
“What is it?” I ask, irritated to have been woken. I know there’s somewhere I’m supposed to be. Something I’m supposed to be doing. But sleep seems so much more important right now.
“I’m sorry to wake you, sir,” the voice says again, more insistent. “But the pre-dinner drinks are starting, and Nik sent me to see…”
“Of course,” I mutter, dazed, and sit up. “I’ll be there soon.” I give a dismissive wave. I still feel under the weather. I’ve never been any good with jet lag. “Please give Dr. Dubois and Mr. Jaeger my apologies.”
But instead of going at once to deliver my message, showing the kind of well-trained obedience I usually expect from Niklaus’s staff, he comes closer. “Is there—can I help, sir?”
I turn my head to stare at him, only realizing afterwards how much power I must have put into my glare, based on the way he takes a half-step back. “No.”
And yet he persists. “Do you need anything ironed, for example?” The masked face has turned to look at my crumpled shirt and trousers that I pulled out of my suitcase and hung up on the closet door before my bath.
He’s right. They need ironing before I can possibly be seen in public in them.
“Yes,” I say, before a yawn overtakes me. “Excuse me. Yes, if you could take my evening wear—Dr. Dubois has a lady’s maid, I believe, who will know how to manage them.” I look him up and down, wondering exactly how long he’s been here in Zee and Niklaus’s household. Not long, based on his nerves.
This must be the man Carlton mentioned, the new recruit. Niklaus has also talked about him in passing, via email.New to the art of service, but an experienced submissive, and keen to learn.
Still, I’m not sure I can trust him with my clothing yet.
“Don’t attempt to iron them yourself,” I warn him. “I don’t want to be further delayed.”
The masked young man hesitates again.
“What is it now?” I snap.
He nods, takes my clothes, and leaves the room without another word.
Not a very auspicious beginning.
* * *
I pull on my underwear and put the robe back on while I arrange my music sheets on the piano, but he’s back only fifteen minutes later, tapping softly and waiting for my call. I didn’t expect to receive them back so quickly, but they are perfectly crisp. Not exactly formal dining attire, but Nik and Zee can hardly expect tails on the first night of my arrival.
Now that my head’s no longer fuzzy with sleep, I look over this new young man with more attention. Medium brown hair curls around his ears, framing the red silk mask. His eyes are a warm, honest brown, and his mouth is generous, though he’s currently chewing on his bottom lip in an anxious tic.
Everything else is a mystery hidden by the mask. Still, as he turns to hang up my clothes, I take note of his lean, well-toned body, the way his uniform hugs close to show off his form. He’s shorter than I am, but well-built, wide in the shoulders. Nicely muscled.
He glances back at me over his shoulder, gaze traveling up and down as I stand there in my robe, as though undressing me with his eyes.
My, my. He has a lot to learn, this one.
He seems to realize, coming to himself with a start, resettling the hangers, but I stop him.
“Bring them over here. On the bed—lay them out.”
He doesn’t hesitate, and even lays them out on the bed with care, smoothing out the material.
“What is your name?”
“Ollie, sir.”
“Ollie?” I repeat, half disbelieving.
He amends, “Oliver.”
