The Lavrenti family was having yet another reception at their home. Back in the day, before the three brothers inherited the business and their mother was still at the helm of the social calendar, they were rather common, but the staff had grown unused of them in these last few years.

Lately, however, Master Archibald has been consistently commanded dinners and parties to be thrown at the smallest of reasons and with at ridiculously tight deadlines, sometimes for the very same night, wearing the servants down to their limit. To make matters worse, the chief housekeeper had the penchant to disappear the night of with some flimsy excuse thrown around for good measure.

Many were tempted to speak out and complain, but bad things happened to the last one who went to the masters to do so. Now, they try to grin and bear it in silence, as, despite the hard work and threat to their lives, the conditions in the Lavrenti manor still beat just about any other noble estate, especially the generous pay.

Well, most of them. Irenea, the head housekeeper, still quietly longed for the day in which she could quit her job. She knows that these parties are just a way for Archibald to keep her deliriously busy, and therefore have no time to do nefarious things like talk to other men, take care of her appearance and sleep.

The jealous streak in that man is a mile wide.

Though, she must confess that organizing parties is less exhausting, and more rewarding, then most other work she does to the rest of the family. Rodion's animal pens needed constant upkeep and cleaning, which was always messy and disagreeable, while dealing with Otis is a minefield all on its own, as all that he says is meant to be either a double-entendre or a trap. Or both.

The First Master was demanding and moody, but at least she got to exercise her creativity, paint her face for a night and see it all come together in the ballroom. It can be very fulfilling. He gives Irinea a wide berth to plan the events as she pleases, with full trust in her aesthetic sensibilities and with borderline unlimited budgets, as he does not really care how it turns out, just as long as she is kept working at it for as long as possible.

The maid, in turn, try to make the most of it, to take off enjoyment out of the First Master's deviant little plot as she can, since, the heavens know, she will not be getting any more chances to leave this house. If this is her life now, still her seventh, and there is no escape, then at least she is having more fun this time.

There was another dinner tonight, and she was at her room, putting on the uniform and the make-up to go serve the soon-to-be arriving guests. She must have forgotten to lock her bedroom door, as she absolutely must do whenever she so much as lowers a single strap of her dress, lest one of the masters come tumbling through with some ludicrous demand, if not all three at once, demanding her immediate attention.

Foolish mistake, indeed. Each one of the three might have their own strengths and weaknesses, their preferences and their idiosyncrasies, but they all know very well how to sneak into a room without making a noise. If hardened criminals were hopeless against the Lavrenti brothers, a simple maid was a sitting duck.

Irinea was not expecting the hand that grabbed her waist as she finishes tying the white lace of her apron, nor did she the wall of muscle she crashed against as she backpedals in a vain hope to escape. When the offending limb gently patted the curve of her hip at the sound of her surprised gasp, when she lost her balance and crashed into the invader, she knew it was Archibald without turning her head.

"First Master, I…" She starts to protest.

She was meant to scold him again, reminding him of the personal boundaries he is eager to violate. However, when he looks down at her, scowling, she quails slightly. Her master is displeased with something, and she is wise to soothe his anger, not to provoke it, lest she finds out if she will survive another rampage.

"Irinea." He rumbled, taking the vial of perfume one of his brothers gifted her from her hand and almost shattering it, as he tries to control himself. "I think it is time for us to go."

She must be late, she concludes. There are no clocks in her room, but she is pretty sure the bell for the start of the event has not rung just yet. In either case, her employers were not known to be patient men.

"Apologies, First Master. I was just about to…"

The maid reaches around his waist, trying to find a box with her limited collection of make-up products and Archibald growls. It is a sound so low and deep that it is almost sub-vocal, the way that dogs express their feelings, one she felt more than heard.

When Irinea scowls at him, frustrated at his behaviour, he chuckles. The man runs a rough thumb over her lips tenderly as he cups her cheek.

"You were just about to get yourself in trouble, going out in public like that." He said, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"But…!"

"Surely, you do not know how delectable you look this evening." He said, bending down to kiss her, wrapping both of his arms around her waist and holding her firmly. "If you do not come with me, I am going to cause a scene."

"Archibald!" She cautions.

"Scene it is." He chuckled, sweeping her up off the floor easily and carrying her out of the room.

Archibald makes sure to pass through the ballroom, so all the high society and his annoying brothers could see where he was taking Irinea.