I begrudgingly stormed up to my room in blazing anger, stopping at the mini bar to help myself to a glass or two of Mr. Sheffield's expensive brandy. I drank them straight up. I'm uncertain if I am fueling my anger with Ms. Babcock or assuaging it with a drink to cool off my temper. After two shots of brandy, I eyed the bottle of Black Label and helped myself with a glass before heading straight to my room, banging the door on my stead that could wake the dead.

Oh, that woman is so infuriating, I'm torn between shaking her so hard till I knock some sense into her or kissing her senseless until she forgets her name…. or better yet, till she forgets her foolish infatuation towards Mr. Sheffield dissolves into oblivion.

I probably would have done the latter if Fran and Mr. Sheffield were not in the room. I sighed and slumped down on my bed uncertain what to do first. Do I pack my bags? or do I crumple and throw out that beautiful picture of Ms. Babcock I so surreptitiously tore from the group photo taken during Mr. Sheffield's fortieth birthday a few years ago. They all thought I cut out her photo out of spite, but it was one of those rare pictures that you still see a glimpse of her humanity that I couldn't help but keep the picture for myself. It's that CC she loved to keep behind the tough walls of her highbrow existence, the subtle vulnerability he could sense that needed love and affection. As Mr. Bobcock was too preoccupied with acquiring assets and making money, he had neglected to shower attention and affection on his only daughter. His only way of showing his love is through providing endless money to burn for an affection seeking motherless little girl.

I couldn't bring myself to tear her picture into pieces even if I channel all my energy to loath her and despise her for turning my life into a devastating turmoil. I want to batter myself for nurturing this infatuation for years until it has become a full-grown, strongly imbedded emotion that had overpowered my whole being. I am no worse than her. We both nurture this belief we will attain the love of the person we so much desire. Perhaps it was her headstrong personality, or the easy life she was brought up to-what CC wants, CC gets.

But I know Mr. Shefield is not the type of man she needed. She only thought he was the type she needed. Years ago, during the budding years of the business partnership, Ms. Babcock was engaged to a handsome, equally rich, and well-accomplished man until he was caught cheating on her. Back then she wasn't as cold nor snobbish and stand-offish and self-centered, but the weeks following the broken engagement gradually toughened her up until she had become the snow queen and thought men were all first-class swines.

Spending long working hours with Mr. Sheffield, she noticed how devoted and loving he was to his wife Sarah. He was a responsible, faithful, and loving man! Not all men were like her ex-fiancée! And when Mrs. Sheffield died, she wanted to fill in her shoes-to be loved by a good, intelligent, and hard-working man.

I stood up and began packing my bags, only half aware of what I was doing, my thoughts occupied by my recollection of my first encounters with CC Babcock. Beautiful yet painful thoughts of the woman I have loved at first sight.

I was about to hand over my resignation after more than ten years serving as butler to my childhood friend Maxwell Sheffield. I thought long and hard if I had the guts to start anew and pursue my dreams of becoming a Barrister. I have saved enough to go back to Liverpool and finish the last two years of my education. I saw Mr. Sheffield exit the door of his office and I hurriedly walked in, intending to put my resignation on his desk when my life of me was almost snuffed out at the sight of the lady seating on the chaise lounge. He must have let her in himself as I had not seen her before. Her straight blond hair fell in soft waves about her shoulders, her eyes were the color of the stormy sea, and there was an air of sophistication about her. She did not stir at the sight of me, instead she held my gaze, neither surprised nor curious at my presence while I was mesmerized by her ethereal beauty.

Mr. Sheffield came back in at that moment. His voice broke my trance.

"Niles, my boy, this is CC Babcock, my new business partner. Our parents are old friends and we have decided to have a joint venture producing musicals and straight plays in Broadway. You'll be seeing more of her around here…"

I almost uttered, "Would you like to go with me to West End in England, Ms. Babcock? It is so much better than Broadway."

"So thrilled to learn the ins and outs of the business, Maxwell," said Ms. Babcock.

She completely ignored me but right there and then I know I will not be going anywhere, not without the beautiful woman before me that plagued my thoughts for the next several years which I struggled, albeit unsuccessfully, to eliminate from the depths of my heart.

Suddenly being a successful Barrister wasn't as important. The persistent void in my life, screaming to be filled had vacillated. I didn't feel as empty as I have in the past years. I now see the world through colorful lenses, and each day was something to look forward to… a glimpse of her beauty… If only she would look my way…If only she would talk to me…take notice that I am much more than a domestic. That I, in so many ways, can be her equal in charm and in intelligence. I am as good as the next bloke if not better.

And so it began, my verbal spar and battle of wits with Ms. Babcock. How I find it deliriously euphoric. It wasn't enough. I put her down, degrade her, make fun of her every chance I get. I wanted her to get off the top of the pedestal. I wanted her to think less of herself…and maybe just maybe she could see we are a match made in heaven.

I push her buttons every time I'm in the same room with her. How I love to see the blazing smoke emanating from her head in seething anger. How her gorgeous face flared up and turned dark crimson in sheer annoyance, her eyes shooting electric flames towards me, and best of all when I was especially good her beautifully manicured fingers would pull my suspenders to hit my chest. If only those same fingers would run down my chest before her lips followed.

To my horror, as each day passed, my love and desire for her deepened and I fought to disguise it with animosity and disgust but who was I fooling? I positively convinced everyone but myself. If only I had persuaded my relentless heart, then I wouldn't be in this predicament.

If my friend Fran had not ended up with our employer Mr. Sheffield, I gush of hope would not have overcome me, that I too may have a chance with the unconquerable CC Babcock.

A sudden rustle of leaves outside my window jolted me back to reality. My bedroom window faced the front entrance of the house and hurrying to the window to check what caused the rustling sound, I caught Ms. Babcock stealthily coming back to the Sheffield mansion.

In my anger and self-pity, I have not yet locked the doors for the night. She can inconspicuously come in. But my conviction to win Ms. Babcock at all cost gave me the resolution she certainly won't get out of the lion's den… not if I can help it. I hope it's not the brandy talking. Heaven knows I already have the audacity to tell her about my feelings. Fueled with alcohol, who knows what else I might do.

You should have stayed away, Ms. Babcock, ran back to the safety of your penthouse when you had the chance.

No more Mr. Nice Guy. I shall take the bull by the horns.