Hey guys! I'm back, for better or worse, haha. :) I am really sorry for not updating in so long, but the last few months of school were SUPER busy. But the good news is it is summer now, so I have a lot of time to write again. :) And I graduated high school last Saturday, so that was awesome too. :) Anyway, enjoy!
"I wish someone would kill me with a knife; I'm dreading this blasted party already," Rose said as she leaned against the door frame of Cal's bathroom, watching him shave.
He smirked at her through the ornate mirror and then soon enough, his eyes were back on his reflection, carefully swiping his right cheek. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed," he said softly.
Rose watched him, both hating and somehow...strangely... somehow... almost liking how he looked whenever he did that. That infuriating, annoying, blasted smirk.
The feeling scared her and annoyed her. She couldn't place what exactly it was, or even what had caused it, but it was still there, despite her every wish not to have it.
She smoothed her soft hair down and readjusted the butterfly clip she had chosen to hold her hair in place that day, and then crossed her arms and looked at him.
Again, she felt distress. She became almost lost as she looked at him, hating and hating how ungodly arrogant he was, how ungodly cocky, how ungodly attractive he was.
Arrogant, insufferable bastard. His hair was tousled and down, and his brown eyes seemed to have taken on a whole new luster in the cold weather. They almost sparkled. His face was as handsome as it always was, and the new, smooth skin being revealed with every razor stroke only enhanced it. He had just a starch-white dress shirt on, the sleeves rolled up just so, and silk black dress-pants. Watching him, she noticed how expertly, how perfectly he shaved...he always seemed to have the most perfect way of doing things. It intrigued her, and only made her wonder more about him. It made her wonder what other secrets he had, what other hidden talents he possessed.
The more she watched him, she both hated and despised that now all-too familiar feeling of being intrigued by him, curious about him...and, even most embarrassingly, simply liking the very sight of him.
It destroyed her, made her angry and even a little distressed, but these feelings continued to torment her every single day and they just would not stop. Sometimes she felt like crying a little in her most delirious hours, but she knew she could not do a thing about them. The most calm she felt was when she slept. Then she wouldn't be distracted by a thought of him, a memory of his warm skin on hers, the scent of his cologne, how damn clever he was at chess, how entertaining he could be when she actually let him prove himself, like last night...
She felt even if she ran away, just ran for miles, out in the cold, autumn wilderness, she would still be tormented and plagued by thoughts of him, pursued by horrifying visions of him. Or even still wondering about him in that way. The curiosity of how he would be as a lover. For she often found herself wondering how he would be in that respect, much to her never-ending horror, embarrassing though it was. She had been wondering ever since that night they had made up, and they had began forming this...this friendship. Whatever this was...
It all scared her far too much, far more than she would ever admit. And certainly never to him.
Her heart beginning to skip just a bit as she realized he was looking at her through the mirror, she jumped.
"Rose, are you all right?" She noticed no customary smirk was on his face now. He was serious.
She shook her head a bit and cleared her throat, her voice coming out much higher than usual.
"Yes," she said. She gulped.
Still Cal stared at her. Beginning to grow irritated out of nervousness, she snapped, "Oh goodness Cal, I'm fine!"
He smirked a bit and rolled his eyes good-naturedly before returning to his task. "Well forgive me for asking, Rose darling. But I assure you, I was entirely serious about my offer for the doctor. Don't be embarrassed about asking."
Seeing red at his remark, she searched and searched for something good to say back to him. "I'm shocked. You're not wearing that god-awful hair gel for once?"
He smirked a bit, winking at her. "No, darling, for once I am not wearing it. But the reason for that is I am currently running low on supply. I get it shipped specially made for me from Germany."
She scoffed. "Oh well isn't that wonderful? A word of advice: You should just stop wearing it altogether. You look utterly ridiculous. And besides, you actually look very nice without all that goop on your head," she said, not thinking.
Too late, she realized what she had said. She blushed, and blushed even more under his gaze, a small smile morphing into a smirk on his face. "Well well well, was that actually a compliment, Rose? And did you just admit you find me attractive?"
Rose snorted, trying to recover. "I didn't say that. I just meant..."
Cal laughed a little. "Oh, don't continue. I feel my happiness about that will be simply dashed if you say anything further."
Wanting the moment to come to a very abrupt end, and wanting to get the last laugh, she said, upon leaving, "I sincerely hope you cut yourself, Cal." She gave him a mock-sweet smile before leaving.
She heard his laugh and then his reply. "Keep being sweet, Rose darling. I'll cut myself just for you, and when people ask how I got the nick tonight, I'll say it was a sign of my great love for you."
"Suck in, Miss," Charlotte said, one of Cal's older servants. She was about forty-six years old, with long, curly, slightly frizzy dark blonde hair with only the barest traces of gray in it. She was still quite beautiful and well-kept at her age. And quite cheeky and intelligent. She was also nice, too. Almost motherly. At least to Rose. She quite liked her.
Rose closed her eyes and sucked in, swearing in her head at the pain. She held onto the bed frame so tightly she felt if it were skin, it would be bruised.
God how she hated corsets! Stupid, stupid things!
True to her word, Ruth had gotten Rose an entire new wardrobe of gowns, corsets, jewelry, gloves, and hair accessories, all in the latest fashions and styles. It made Rose detest her mother all the more.
The corset Rose was currently dressed in was an off-white crème color, and very lacy and poufy.
When Charlotte gave her a chance to catch her breath, she closed her eyes, gulped a few times, and then said, "I told you, you can call me Rose."
The older woman gave a very small smile at that, and said, "Oh no, Miss. That's not proper."
Leaning her head back, Rose panted a bit and said, "Oh, to hell with propriety. Call me Rose."
Charlotte smiled a bit and said, "Oh, very well...Rose. Now I apologize, but just suck in once more, and then we're all done."
"Thank god," Rose groaned. She closed her eyes, sucked in, and then she was finally laced.
Wanting to catch her breath more and allow air (well, as much air as currently possible) to fill her lungs, she sat down on the bed for a few precious moments..
Watching Charlotte, she said, "I wonder, Charlotte...how long have you worked for Cal?"
"Oh, a year."
"You look very unfamiliar...most of the servants do."
Charlotte chuckled a little. "Well I imagine most would, when all we do is flit unnoticed during the day, doing our various duties."
Rose watched her. More curiosity struck her. "Do you like him...Well, do any of you like him? I mean really like him?"
To her surprise, Charlotte chuckled. "Well, actually, yes. Quite honestly, when you've worked in as many first-class homes as I have, there are of course the few employers you wish would die-of natural causes, of course- but on the whole, Mr. Hockley is remarkably easy to work for."
Disbelief flooded her. Rose sat up. "Really? I mean...he doesn't yell, or..."
Charlotte laughed. "Actually, no. I know this must be difficult for you to believe, but he is actually quite quiet and rather calm. Of course, he has yelled before, but only when people really mucked things up, and even then, only when they did it on purpose. But he pays us well, is very good about days off, and only wants us to do our duties correctly. So no, to answer your question, he is not a tyrant or anything of which you imagine." The woman smiled wryly at Rose as she finished.
Rose blinked. "Oh," she said, shocked.
The woman gave her a knowing smile. "You seem so determined, Rose."
Rose looked at her. "Determined of what?"
Charlotte laughed a little. "Oh, to see something that simply isn't there."
Rose stared. "I..."
Charlotte smiled, and then grew serious and said, "Rose, will you be requiring my assistance for your dress as well?"
Rose smiled a bit woodenly and said, "Oh no. I can take it from here. But Charlotte? Thank you," she said.
The older woman smiled as she left. "My pleasure, Rose."
Rose stood up and looked in the full-length mirror, turning her head this way and that, still trying to process what she had been told. Cal was a reasonable, good employer. Cal was a good, reasonable employer.
It still didn't make sense, no matter how much she repeated it.
Her mind wandering, she carefully surveyed herself, casting one last glance over her appearance. Her red hair was done in a soft braid, the plait held in place by a dark green velvet elastic, to match her dress.
She fingered the soft material of the corset, rubbing it between her fingers absentmindedly.
Truthfully, the corset was pretty. But that was the only good thing about it.
She was jolted from her trance by a gentle knock at the door, and then the door opening. "Rose darling? Are you r-"
She gasped a little, knowing she desperately needed to cover herself, but dreadfully bereft of anything to do so with, save for her dress, which was far, far away, on her bed.
It was like she couldn't move. She felt numb, frozen in place. She was embarrassed, a dull blush beginning to coat her cheeks, but her heart pounded with something else. Almost excitement. She felt her palms beginning to sweat a little.
There he was, standing in the doorway, hair down, looking as delightfully dark and handsome as ever, perfect suit-jacket on over his dress-shirt. He looked like pure perfection. The mingling scents of his aftershave and cologne washed over her, almost taunting her.
She had never felt more unclothed in front of him, and, almost deliriously, some secret part of her was almost, hungrily, hoping he would take her right then and there, on her bed.
She could not understand it. She would never understand it. But it seemed while her conscious mind couldn't, her unconscious mind could, as well as her body.
It seemed like he couldn't move either. It seemed like Cal was also frozen in place.
Cal was speechless. Good lord was she beautiful...Her perfect soft, white skin was showcased more fully than ever in just her corset, and he was painfully aware of the fact that underneath, she wore nothing.
His heart thrummed painfully against his ribs, raced horribly.
She was always perfection, but he found himself wanting to forget the party and simply devour her right now.
Gradually, he felt something kicking in... like his brain...no, a conscience. Well, his conscience, at least. Yes, it did vary by just a little from most people's, but contrary to popular belief, he did possess a very real, moral, considerate, and working one.
He knew she probably was embarrassed. He knew she probably was humiliated. He knew she didn't deserve to have him ogling her improperly, like some animal.
The gentleman in him kicked in, and he covered his eyes, cleared his throat quietly, and apologized, also adding for her to join him when she was fully ready, before quickly shutting the door behind him.
He leaned against it, trying to calm his heartbeat. Or the urge for cold water to be dumped on him.
She was his undoing, all the time.
Gradually, Rose felt jolted out of her reverie at the sound of his voice. Cal averted his eyes, covered them, and said, "I apologize, Rose darling. I should not have opened the door. Take your time, and you can join me when you are ready."
And with that, the door was closed again, and he was gone.
It felt like her legs were jelly. She sat down on the bed and put a hand on her heart, trying to quell the butterflies she felt in her stomach as well.
Now her conscious mind was fully kicked in once more, her cheeks flamed that he had seen her in just her corset, almost nude...but more than that, the feelings that had washed over her were more intense than anything she had ever felt yet here in his mansion.
As Rose dressed, putting on her perfect silk gown and gloves, then rubbed her red cheeks as she looked in the mirror, her heart still pounded.
What was he doing to her? And, even worse, what was she allowing him to do to her?
She took a deep breath and then left, thoughts even more unsettled as she thought of the party only mere moments away.