“How ya doin’.” It’s not a question, just a greeting, and Mr. Staiano introduces his next nephew without giving me the chance to reply.
Walker sits with one leg up on the arm of his chair in a relaxed pose that’s definitely more for show than comfort. He wears furry white pants and absolutely nothing else except a pair of black horns that curl back from his hairline. He looks like a fawn, and I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s going for when he greets me with a tune blown into a panpipe that he whips out of nowhere.
Faulkes Staiano peeks out from behind Thoren (who’s wearing the same pants as yesterday with a slightly different blood red vampire shirt open to display his impressive pecs). Faulkes is covered head to toe in what looks like a blanket made to look like unicorn pajamas, complete with the hood up and a horn sticking up. He’s bigger than the others, but based on the body language that the others exhibit, I suspect he might be the one they at least treat like the youngest. He gives me a shy wave and ducks back behind Thoren.
After introductions, Mr. Staiano tells them all about me and then asks them to go easy on me while I get acclimated to the job.
Thoren’s smirk distracts me, and I know what he’s going to say before the words pass through those extremely kissable lips.
Dammit. No. He’s not kissable.
“What’s ‘Dec’ short for? We’re all curious.”
Without even thinking about it, because I have apparently trained my brain for snark, I pop off, “Dec nuts” like I don’t know Mr. Staiano is fully capable of firing me.
Thoren scowls, and the rest of the faces in the room light up.
“Woah, butler got sass,” Walker, the one wearing furry pants, announces as my face flames.
“I-I apologize. I’m not—” I don’t even know where to go with that sentence. My name is no one’s business except the government’s and the people who need to know for tax purposes.
“Nah, you said what you meant,” Ethan laughs.
Mr. Staiano turns to me with a weird expression on his face. If I’d seen him looking like this in any other context, I would think he’s looking at a cute pet he found. “Do you have anything else to say to the boys?”
“The boys” look at me expectantly, except for Thoren, who’s staring at me in a way that makes me want to back up a bit, and maybe also get on my knees, but that’s a ridiculous reaction,and I definitely put it firmly in the No-Go zone in my head. Why would he even want me, anyway? Especially after I just sassed him in front of his, uh, cousins? Brothers? I’m not sure how they’re related. Regardless, I can’t help but notice that “the boys” are all bigger and probably older than me. If Mr. Staiano thinks of them as boys, he must think I’m an infant.
“I apologize for my outburst. I’m truly happy to be here. Your previous butler was some kind of angel and has left me with a great system that will be easy to step into. If you have questions, concerns, or critiques, please let me know so I can help; that’s what I’m here for.”
There’s a sniffle, and then Thoren suddenly hisses and reaches behind him to bring Faulkes forward onto his lap. The huge man in unicorn pajamas dwarfs Thoren as he sits across his lap, and he buries his face in Thoren’s shoulder, sobbing softly.
I immediately pull a handkerchief from my pocket, offering it to Thoren.
“We’re still grieving,” Thoren explains with a dark look, taking the handkerchief from my hand and shoving it in Faulkes’s face.
“I do apologize.” I manage to get that out around the lump in my throat as Faulkes honks into the handkerchief and then throws it on the floor with enough force that it sails past me.
I rush to pick it up, turning back to find all of the Staianos frowning at me.
“Sincerely, I’m very sorry, Mr. Staiano. No one mentioned the sensitivity of this subject,” I apologize to my employer, hoping not to lose my job. No one told me Arcan had died! I thought he’d moved.
Mr. Staiano sighs and rolls his eyes. He turns me toward the door with his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, Dec, and for the love of Pizza Margherita, please call me Maxime. There are eight Mr. Staianos in this house, and I refuse to be called something so common.”
“Yes, sir. Uh, Maxime,” I stutter, stalled out on the pizza thing. My uncle used to say that exact phrase too. I wonder if it’s a thing from when they were young.
He pats my back and opens the library door. Mr. Simms darts out ahead of us, then Maxime pushes me out. “It’s fine, but let's give the boys a chance to calm down before we do anything else.”
He shuts the library door behind me, and I’m left staring at the dog, who looks up at me with a wagging tail and a smile. At least I didn’t offendhim.
Chapter four
Thoren
(He was definitely hired on the basis of his assets)
I’m not the onlyperson who saw that, right? How did I not notice that before? It’s not subtle. Not even a little subtle. The new butler has abadonkadonk.
“What wasthat?” Greeley demands, turning his gaze from the now closed door to Uncle.
