I enter Emily’s office and find the iPad she mentioned sitting on top of her desk.
“Stealing from the top already?” A voice comes from the door. I don’t glance up. It’s Esme, a guest staffer like me who was on the short list of candidates. She and I were friendly until Emily approached me about the position. She was one of my main sources of gossip. She and the two people who are flanking her were. It’s amazing how fast the three of them turned on me over this.
I’ve never had friends before, so I honestly don’t know how this all works, but the reality is, I don’t care all that much. I’m not here to be their friend.
I get it. They’re jealous and upset. They sort of have a right to be. They’ve been here longer than I have. But unlike them, I’m not known for being a gossip. I’m discreet whereas they’re not. I also do double the work in the same amount of time as all of them. Call it a byproduct of getting the shit whipped out of me if I didn’t work quickly and efficiently enough or that I wanted to appear as the model employee. It doesn’t matter.
The facts speak for themselves, and when Emily and I were discussing the position before she fell, she hinted at her reasons for including me in the pool.
“I heard she pushed Emily,” Raul claims.
I don’t bother to acknowledge his comment. He’s testing me to see if he can get a rise out of me, and that’s not something I’m known for. Thus far, the only person who seems to exacerbate me and ruffle feathers I didn’t even know I had is the fucking prince.
I unlock the iPad and look over everything that I need to familiarize myself with.
“You’re not even going to gloat?” Marsha, an American with an annoyingly nasal voice, goads. “Little Miss Perfect got the job. How nice for you. Too bad no one will take orders from you.”
“That’s so wild since Emily and Prince Rowan made it clear that I can let anyone who doesn’t go.”
They obviously didn’t give me that power, but these assholes don’t know that.
I search through the schedule. “Hmm. Marsha, you’re supposed to be on the family side, tending to the children’s rooms.” I glance up at her. “And yet you’re here.” I turn to Raul. “And you’re responsible for the library today, along with the third-floor guest quarters. And you”—I shift to Esme—“are supposed to be on the second-floor guest rooms. And yet you’re all standing here.”
“You’re a bitch,” Esme snaps.
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “I’mthe bitch.”
“This isn’t done.” Raul points at me like the tough guy he’s not. “Don’t think us going back to work is a sign of that.”
God, he’s a moron.
“Noted.” I smile sweetly at them.
Shockingly, they leave, though I take them at their word when they say this isn’t over. It would be nice to have someone in my life other than Jaqueline that I didn’t hate or was adversarial with. I had two people, and they’re both dead. Maybe thisis just how it is in the world. I can manage being alone. It’d be an improvement.
I only wish I could bring Jaqueline here.
With all this set, I get myself to work, and the rest of the day goes smoother than I was anticipating. For the most part, there are no major fires to put out or attitudes to manage. Most people are friendly and eager to help in Emily’s absence. Esme, Marsha, and Raul, from what I can tell, get their jobs done.
Not all of the staff live in the palace. Some do, but many commute from Tourin, which is about a thirty-minute drive from here, or Aosla, which is about forty minutes away. It makes the evenings quiet, and I like that. Evenings have always been my only breath of air, and I take them gladly.
I spend it going over staffing and schedules. Emily said I should be on the family side, tending to the family’s suites as well as their studies. Tomorrow is going to come with a lot of eyes on me.
My phone rings on my nightstand, and I wince only to relax when I see it’s Jaqueline. For the first time all day, a smile lights up my face.
“Hi,” I answer. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going,” she chirps. “I studied English for most of the day.”
“That’s great.” Even if the reason they have her learning English isn’t to make her more worldly. It’s to turn her into someone like me. Yet another assassin.
“When do you come home?”
I move to the edge of my bed and look around my small quarters. There’s barely anything in here, and it’s still a million times nicer than any place I’ve ever slept before.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I wish I could come home and see you. Or better yet, have you come here.”
“I wish for that too. I hate sleeping down here by myself.”
