Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Cooking in Mr. Robinson's house is more than easy, the cooking appliances, the well-stocked fridge. I don't remember the last time I made such a fancy meal.

The instant I'd opened the fridge, I was in a battle with myself on what to make. There was steak, chicken anď minced beef, with so much more.

Going with the minced beef, I decide to make pasta, chilli and tomato sauce with meatballs with a recipe our nanny always used.

It's almost six and I'm near panicking as i carefully dish out the meal and set the table. After much contemplation, I grab some cheese and scrape some over the meatballs and sauce.

As I stare at the meal, pleased with myself, the gate wheezes open and his black, sleek Chevrolet Camaro drives in.

I'm suddenly nervous as I hear the car door slam shut and I face the sink, determined to keep myself busy with cleaning up and avoid any contact with him whatsoever.

The door opens moments later and I can hear him talking on the phone,

"What? No, tell them to hold back the contract until he agrees for 180 billion.....Then Holly and I would have to do it tomorrow.....It's a goddamn remote car, Ben. The Robin is the first thing this country considers a miracle, they'd do whatever it freaking takes to be our sponsors when this hits foreign trade. It's good marketing for them, they can't turn it down......Good. And for Pete's sake, this time, forward me the contract before and after they intend to make any ammends. Wonderful."

By the time he is done talking, I can feel his presence in the kitchen, his calculated, steady movements before I hear the fridge open and shut.

"Anne." Hearing my name with that cold, calm voice that demands obedience sends me rigid and I mutter a quick prayer before I turn to face him.

"Yes, Mr. Robinson?" I answer, watching as he swiftly takes off his suit jacket and begins unbuttoning his cuffs, blue cold gaze fixated on me.

"What the hell is this?" He asks and nods to the table where his meal is placed.

My heart begins to subconsciously pound out of proportion.

"Umm, pasta and--"

"Not that. The setting. Why the hell did you set the table for two?"

He asks and my gaze drops to the table.

I had set a place for two, although it had been a mistake at first due to my habit for setting a table for both Tyler and I.

Then I had realised the mistake, but before I could clear it, I decided to just eat here as well, and so I shifted the other napkin and utensils to the far end of the table where I would stay.

Guess not.

"Answer me." His voice instructs and I look back up at him.

"I was going to eat here--"

"Why?"

"I just thought--"

"You thought? That what? You're my humble guest?"

He says, approaching me and I move back with fear until the edge of the sink juts into my behind.

"You want to work for me and base on your thoughts?"

He is directly in front of me now and I look away from his cold intimidating gaze.

"I'm sorry, Mr Robinson, I'll clear it out righ--"

"Listen to me." He says and pulls me back when I try to move away.

"I don't pay you to think. You do only what you signed for and keep it that way. The next time you make such a mistake, a warning won't be the only thing you'll get." He says, and I nod frantically.

"Yes, Mr. Robinson." I mutter before he finally moves away and I let out a breath I had no idea I was holding.

I quickly clear out the other side of the table as he sits down to eat, then I clean up the kitchen and escape to my room, waiting by the door side until I hear his footsteps retreat from the kitchen.

I shut my eyes and draw in a deep breath, willing my thudding heart to calm down, before I slip back into the kitchen and clean up the rest.

Lesson number 1: never set a table for two.

****

The minute I'd laid down on the bed, I practically sank into its coziness and drifted into sleep on a cloud.

So the banging noise I'm hearing now couldn't be from this perfect dreamland.

Then..??

"What the--?" I mutter as I rub my eyes, staring at the time.

It's 5am.

The persisting banging is coming from my door and I stare at the alien room, trying to recall where I am.

This isnt my room, there are no pictures on the small shelf...there is no small shelf. Its huge and well furninshed and--

"ANNE!!!" A deep, male voice yells from outside the door where the banging is coming and in an instant it all comes back to me.

Of course this isn't my room.

This isnt even my house.

I'm a maid!

With that realisation, I scramble out of bed and rush to the door, swinging it open.

"What the hell are you? An animal? Were you fucking hibernating?"

"I--"

"What is this?!" He demands, cutting me off as he shoves a rumpled suit to my face.

"I-I....umm,...I didn't--"

"What?! You didn't what? You didn't fucking do your job?"

"But, Mr.Robinson....It's Saturday." I say so quietly, I can barely hear myself.

"Is that your big excuse?!" He demands which only makes me cower more. I have never seen him yell or raise his voice, all his instructions are always said in a calm, cold way.

"It's just,...I...I don't work on weekends. I was going to go to my apart--"

"Go where? You started working for me yesterday and already, you've made two freaking mistakes and you want to skidaddle out of here?!"

"But you said--"

"And I'm saying again. My House, my rules! So get yourself to the laudry room and do your work, or so help me, I will chain you in the basement if it will make you do your job!" He says and with that he flings the suit at me and storms off.

I quickly grab it, stopping it from touching the floor as i stare at his retreating form.

It's then I realise that he is not on his usual suit dressing, and his hair is not in its perfectly combed style.

It's scattered beyond reason but plastered to his face and he is putting on a white muscle shirt with a pair of running trousers and sneakers.

He went running.

I frown as i head for the laudry room, trying to picture Mr. Robinson as the running type and failing. Ever since that night at the strip club, he always struck me as the devil in skin.

I pause at the door leading to the wide living room, realising that I don't know where the laundry room is.

I turn to him, fear gripping me. He is standing at the middle of the living room, taking huge gulps of water from a bottle and I wait for him to finish before I ask.

"Umm, Mr. Robinson? I don't know where the laundry room is." I say and he doesn't answer. He just caps the bottle of water before he turns to me, cold eyes giving me a pointed stare.

"Let me ask you something, Anne, are you sure you want this job?"

Uh-oh.

"Yes. Of course." I say hurriedly and he keeps staring.

"Really? Because it seems to me you didn't even do the first thing that was on the contract. You didn't familiarize yourself with the house and you stand here, trying to convince me that you want this job?" He asks and the only thing on my mind is the mention of a contract.

My head is reeling in the memory of when I had the interview and he gave me a stack of papers to sign.

A contract.

Then he had left it on the table and showed me the alarm system.

My eyes scan the room now and I spot it on the far end of the table in the living room.

Lesson number 2: Observe everything.

"I'm sorry, that was unreasonable of me." I say, willing to admit defeat before he threatens me again.

"Unreasonable? No, it was stupid. Completely stupid. Figure it out yourself, but you better have that suit pressed before 6." He says and heads for his room.

I sigh, revelling in his absence before I quickly head for the contract and just as I prayed, there was a small map of the house on the first page.

The laundry room is at the back, right next to the gym, past the swimming pool.

Although I had no idea that there was a gym or swimming pool, I'll have to explore the house later because I know I have to hurry if I want to keep this job.

I scurry to the laundry room at the back and get to work, with my gaze wandering about the wide room. Unlike the rest of the house, the room was a brightly coloured green with white flowers.

I bite my lip, tempted to touch the painting, tempted to ask why he would keep such a beautiful room at the back of the house as a laundry room.

But his threats get the better of me and I focus on the suit and get it done in no time.

By the time I walk into the house with the pressed suit, I spot him standing in the kitchen already fully dressed in a gray suit that's perfectly tailored, with his hair neatly combed back and i frown.

I'm about to ask him whether he was still gòing to need the suit but I realise how that question only guarantees more threats and I clam shut.

"You need me to remind you to make breakfast too?" He asks and I gently lay the suit over the back of the couch and make a beeline for the fridge.

I can tell he is in a hurry so I decide on the quickest breakfast i know and slide some slices of bread into the toaster.

I put a clean mug under the automatic coffe maker hit the button and grab some eggs and cheese from the fridge.

I'm done with the cheese omelette just after the toaster dings and I plate the breakfast, all too aware of his eyes on my movements.

The coffee maker hisses and fills the mug with black coffee and I grab it and gently put it next to the plate in his front.

He is quiet, staring at it and I'm almost sure I've made another mistake when he just says,

"Ill be back by noon today, and remind me to get another toaster on Monday, this one is a bit too slow." He says and I just nod and grab a sticky note from the top of the fridge to write it down while he eats.

It's a few minutes past six when Mr. Robinson is about to leave and I muster all the courage in me before I approach him.

"Mr. Robinson, I would like to apologise for the past mistakes I've been making. I was ignorant and I'm sorry."

He just looks at me with that cold gaze and says,

"You should be sorry, look at yourself. Ignorance is too good an excuse for you." He says and with that, he walks out.

I stand, staring at nothing and scorched by his insult as he drives out.

Then I drop in a sitting position to the ground, trying to understand why he simply enjoys treating me this way when my phone buzzes.

A text from Ty.

Ty: Hey, sleepy head. You're probably awake by now unless you've got a really good boss that lets you sleep in. Just texting to say the usual, Wash up, Eat up, Rest up and call when you can. Love you.

"To the moon and back." I mutter.

I can't help smiling at his text even though I had been feeling bitter, I feel better now and I get up from my pitiful position on the floor.

Agreed, I had messed up a smidge and Mr. Robinson won't let me hear the end of it, but again, all mistakes are for a purpose.

And by God, I'll learn this contract like my favourite song and for once, give Mr. Robinson a reason to be quiet.

Lesson number 3: Make a difference.