Chapter 8
If I don’t win–no, when I don’t win, and I’m back in my two–bedroom apartment, sharing a bed with my little sister, I’ll dream of the Ashford Mansion. And I’ll feel utterly depressed by the undisputable knowledge that for as long as I live, I will never ever behold such magnificence again.
My neck hurts from looking around so much, but I can’t not look.
The spacious grand entrance hall alone floors me. With its large crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow on the polished marble floors and the expensive art adorning the walls… I wouldn’t even need a bed; I could just sleep there forever.
But Easton, already used to all the luxury, doesn’t let us pause to savor the amazing ambiance, quickly leading us through the first floor, explaining where’s where.
He shows us to the formal living room, which looks like something out of a magazine–not for sitting or touching but purely for viewing. Then he shows us to the dining room, where he informs us we will have meals every day, even though I don’t think I could ever eat anything when I’m sitting on seats that look like thrones. He also shows us to the ballroom. You read that right–the Ashfords have an honest–to–goodness ballroom
My favorite part, though, is the library. My breath is literally knocked clean out of my lungs as I behold the gigantic room that could give the Beast’s library in Beauty and the Beast a run for its money–and win.
Rows upon rows of books, both ancient and new, I feel like I could lose myself in the shelves and never want to leave.
Too soon, however, Easton ushers us out.
He leads us to the middle of a large hallway where ornate and sweeping staircases curve up each side, leading to the upper levels.
“That,” he says, pointing to the staircase on the left, “leads to the west wing.” He turns around fully and shoots all of us what I now realize is his signature stern look.
“It belongs to the Ashfords. Under no circumstances whatsoever is any of you to be found in the west wing. Ever.”
I stare up at the winding staircase, imagining what it looks like–what Nathan’s living quarters look like.
Five minutes, April. Stop thinking about him for five minutes.
Easton then leads us up the right staircase to the east wing. It leads to a large hallway with doors on opposite sides, like in a hotel. On the doors are girls‘ names, and I search for mine as we walk, finally sighting my name on the last door in the hall. He informs us that all our personal belongings have already been deposited in our rooms.
“These are your rooms,” Easton points out the obvious before leading us downstairs again.
He leads us into a kitchen large enough to contain my apartment twice over.
Waiting for us are women in the servant’s uniforms lined up expectantly. I count twenty–five.
“Each of you will have two maids,” Easton explains. “They will be your aids for the period you spend here, taking care of your needs as they arise.”
“And this“-he points to a tall, slim woman at the head of the line-“is Anna, the head maid.”
I’ve never really understood the expression ‘looking down one’s nose,‘ but Anna provides an excellent visual aid.
From the pure disdain and self–righteousness with which she eyes all of us, you would think she was the lady of the house and not a member of
staff.
Thankfully, Easton immediately begins to call out names, matching them with their maids.
June tugs on my hand, drawing my attention.
“I don’t like her,” she whispers, eyeing Anna wearily. “She looks mean.”
I squeeze her hand reassuringly, sharing my sister’s sentiments. “It’s okay, we’ll just stay out of her way.”
1/2
12:39 PM
י
Chapter 8
“April Farrah.” Easton eyes me and June warily. “And apparently, June Farrah. You will be waited on by Jessica and Lucy,”
Two maids peel off from the neat row and move towards us. Jessica is petite, with a dark brown braid over her shoulder and big brown eyes, while Lucy is slightly taller and curvier, with blonde hair like mine and blue eyes.
Both of them bow slightly, but I don’t miss the look they exchange, and I understand it as well as I would’ve if they’d tattooed the words to their foreheads. They are not happy to wait on me.
Because I don’t look like I belong here, not like the other girls. I look like I should be wearing a maid’s uniform and standing next to them.
“We’ve come to the end of the tour,” Easton announces. “If you have any further questions, ask your maids.”
He shoots us his signature look before saying, “Mind yourselves.” And then he’s gone.
The room erupts in a frenzy of movement as the girls start talking to each other and their maids. I force a polite smile at Jessica and Lucy. “Um, hi.”
“Anything we can help you with?” Lucy asks.
I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. My sister and I will just go freshen up in our room if that’s alright.”
They exchange another glance. “You don’t need our permission for anything,” Jessica says.
I swallow. “Right.”
I tug on June’s hand. “Come on, Summer.”
Grateful to be out of the stifling kitchen, I lead my sister back through the grand halls, almost losing my way on all the turns before finding the staircase to the upper level.
I don’t realize the direction I’m headed in until June pulls me back sharply. “Spring,” she hisses, her eyes wide. “We’re not allowed in the west wing, remember?”
I stumble back, realizing where I was headed. I shoot my sister a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I zoned out a bit.”
She smiles shyly. “Don’t worry, you’ll see the cute boys soon enough.”
I laugh, nudging her shoulder as we head up the stairs to the east wing. “What do you know?”
“I know you think the one that caught you is dreamy,” June teases as we walk down the long hall.
I roll my eyes as we stop in front of my door, and I open it. “Everyone thinks he’s dreamy, he’s—”
My steps freeze when I behold the room. Not the size–which is huge. Or the décor–which is extravagant.
But the man standing by the window, facing away from the door. My breath catches in my throat, and my voice is small and strangled when I ask tentatively, “Nathan?”
