"I don't belong here," I muttered to myself for the hundredth time that morning.
The mansion loomed around me like a luxurious prison, each corner hiding another chore. La Signora had been on a rampage since dawn, and I was the unfortunate target.
"Ms. Signora, where are the others?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I dusted the grand staircase for what felt like the third time.
La Signora didn't even look up from her clipboard.
"Arlecchino is currently in the city, dealing with a complex corporate espionage case. She's been tracking down leads, infiltrating high-security offices, and sifting through mountains of financial data. It's a highly demanding task that requires her full attention. Kafka, on the other hand, is juggling a packed schedule of therapy sessions and book signings. She's been working on a new manuscript that demands her creative energy, and her clients rely on her for their mental well-being. Their absence is due to their indispensable roles and the critical nature of their work."
I blinked. Wow. When she explained it like that, my grumbling about cleaning sounded pretty petty. But still, did it have to be so detailed?
"Right. Thanks for the update, Ms. Signora."
"Now, Y/N, the garden needs attending to," La Signora said, finally looking up. "Make sure the roses are pruned properly, and the hedges trimmed. After that, you can start on the library. It's a mess."
"Of course, ma'am," I replied, swallowing my frustration. I trudged out to the garden, the sprawling green expanse that seemed to stretch on forever. I grabbed the gardening tools and started working.
After ten minutes of pruning roses, I was convinced they were plotting to stab me.
"Great, now I can add 'gardener' to my job description," I muttered under my breath, wincing as a thorn pricked my finger. These roses were definitely out to get me.
As I hacked away at the hedges, I couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of elaborate hazing ritual.
The sun was blazing down, and my arms felt like they were going to fall off. I glanced up and saw La Signora watching me from a distance, her expression inscrutable.
"Does she have nothing else to do?" I whispered to a particularly stubborn weed. "Maybe she's a robot that runs on other people's misery."
"Y/N, are you talking to yourself again?" La Signora called out.
"No, ma'am," I replied quickly, stifling a groan. "Just singing."
"Make sure those weeds are pulled properly. We wouldn't want them to ruin the garden's aesthetic."
"Yes, ma'am." I wanted to pull my hair out. Why did she have to be so... perfect and intimidating? It was like trying to please a marble statue.
After the gardening, I trudged back inside, sweat dripping down my forehead. My next task was the library, a grand room filled with towering bookshelves and enough dust to trigger a year's worth of sneezes.
La Signora handed me a duster and a ladder. "Make sure you get the top shelves. They've been neglected for too long."
"Of course, ma'am," I said, forcing a smile. I climbed the ladder, swiping at the dust and cobwebs that clung to the books. As I worked, I couldn't help but imagine the novels and stories hidden within these volumes.
Maybe I could sneak a peek later.
An hour later, my arms were aching from holding the duster above my head, and I had only managed to clean a small section. La Signora appeared at the door, her eyes scanning the room critically.
"You're making progress," she said, her tone neutral. "But there's still much to do."
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. I could just picture myself throwing a book at her head. But no, I couldn't do that. I'd just imagine it... for now.
After the library, it was on to the kitchen. "The silverware needs polishing. And make sure the countertops are spotless. I expect perfection."
I nodded, grabbing a cloth and the silver polish. As I worked, I couldn't help but grumble internally. Why did she have to be so exacting? Couldn't she just give me a break?
Halfway through polishing a particularly ornate set of spoons, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see La Signora watching me, her arms crossed.
The day dragged on, and so did the chores. La Signora's demands seemed to multiply. Dusting the library, organizing the kitchen, polishing the silverware, cleaning the windows, and even scrubbing the floor. It was endless.
My patience was wearing thin. I could feel the annoyance bubbling up, threatening to spill over. La Signora seemed to sense it, her gaze sharpening every time I let a sigh or a grumble slip.
"Remember, Y/N," she said, her voice cold, "respect is not optional. It is expected."
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, trying to hide my irritation. But it was getting harder. Why did she have to be so strict? It was like she took pleasure in my suffering.
As I scrubbed the floor for what felt like the fiftieth time, I glanced up and saw La Signora standing there, just... staring at me.
"Do you need something, ma'am?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"No, I'm just observing," she replied.
"Observing?" I echoed, incredulous. "Do you not have anything else to do?"
Her eyes flashed, and I instantly regretted my words. "My responsibilities are none of your concern, Y/N. Focus on your tasks."
"Yes, ma'am," I muttered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Great, now I was definitely on her bad side.
La Signora directed me to the kitchen again. "The oven needs a deep clean. And don't forget the refrigerator. Everything must be spotless."
I nodded, grabbing the cleaning supplies. As I scrubbed the oven, my mind raced with unspoken complaints. What was next, cleaning the chimney? Actually, I probably shouldn't give her any ideas.
"Bitch, bitch, bitch," I chanted under my breath, scrubbing furiously at a particularly stubborn stain.
Halfway through, I turned around and nearly jumped out of my skin. La Signora was standing there, arms crossed, watching me again.
"Is everything to your satisfaction, ma'am?" I asked, trying not to let my annoyance show.
"For now," she replied. "But don't get complacent."
"I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am." I forced a smile, imagining the satisfaction of flinging a sponge at her face. Just in my head, of course. For now.
After the kitchen, La Signora had yet another task for me. "The ballroom needs a thorough cleaning. Every inch must be spotless. And make sure to polish the chandeliers."
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, my voice strained. What the fuck? A ballroom? Really? What were they planning, a royal ball?
As I dragged the cleaning supplies to the ballroom, I couldn't help but feel like Cinderella, minus the fairy godmother. The chandeliers loomed overhead, each crystal glinting with menace. I grabbed a ladder and started polishing, my arms aching with each swipe.
An hour later, I was still at it, and La Signora appeared again. Just watching. Always watching.
"Does she ever blink?" I muttered to myself, wiping sweat from my brow.
"What was that, Y/N?" she asked, her tone icy.
"Nothing, ma'am," I replied quickly. "Just... singing again." Lalala... bitch
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of cleaning, I found a moment to myself. I slouched onto the sofa in the living room, savoring the rare comfort. Maybe if I stayed perfectly still, I could blend in with the furniture and escape her notice.
But of course, La Signora had other plans.
"What do you think you're doing, Y/N?" Her voice cut through the air like a knife.
I bolted upright. "Just... adjusting the cushions, ma'am."
Her eyes narrowed. "I expect you to maintain a certain level of decorum. This isn't the time for lounging."
"Yes, ma'am." I felt like a chastised child, but I managed to keep my tone respectful. Barely. I wanted to scream. Or throw something. Or maybe throw something and then scream. Fuck!
By the end of the day, I was at my breaking point. My muscles ached, my patience was gone, and my sanity was hanging by a thread. La Signora had me cleaning the grand hall's marble floor, a task that seemed never-ending.
"Y/N, make sure you get every spot," she called out, her voice echoing in the hall.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, my tone laced with frustration. I wanted to throw the mop at her. Or maybe myself.
As I scrubbed the floor, I couldn't help but curse internally. "Crap, crap, crap," I muttered, scrubbing furiously.
"Did you say something, Y/N?" La Signora asked, her eyes narrowing.
"No, ma'am. Just... carp. Lots of carp."
Just as I was about to lose my mind, a loud crash echoed through the hall. I turned to see a vase shattered on the floor, and La Signora standing there, her eyes wide with shock.
"What happened?" she demanded, her tone accusatory.
"I... I don't know, ma'am. It just fell," I stammered, my heart racing. Great, just what I needed. More trouble.
La Signora's gaze softened slightly. "Clean it up, Y/N. And be careful."
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, my hands shaking as I picked up the pieces. As I worked, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny crack in her icy exterior.
Just as I was about to lose my mind, La Signora appeared in the doorway, her ever-present clipboard in hand. "Y/N, I'll be leaving shortly for an urgent meeting. Make sure everything is in order while I'm gone."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, my voice a mix of relief and trepidation. I watched her glide down the hall, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
She made her way to the front door, where an impossibly sleek, expensive-looking car awaited her. She slid into the driver's seat with the effortless confidence that only La Signora could muster, and the car purred to life.
With one last, imperious glance back at the mansion (probably to make sure I wasn't slacking off), she drove away, leaving me alone. Completely alone.
The idea of taking a break crossed my mind immediately. My feet practically begged me to flop down on the nearest sofa and veg out. But no sooner had the thought crossed my mind than intrusive thoughts began to creep in.
What if I checked their rooms?
Just a little peek wouldn't hurt, right?
Right?