Nora's fingers traced the cool, polished granite of the kitchen counter. Sunlight streamed through expansive windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air and highlighting the sheer opulence of her new surroundings.
This wasn't just a house, it was a palace compared to the cramped, shared room she'd left behind. Alex, her new employer, a man of sharp suits and even sharper business acumen, had briefly introduced her to the sprawling estate, gesturing vaguely at the rooms and murmuring about her duties as the 'house help.' Then, with a decisive nod and a swift turn of his car keys, he'd vanished, leaving her to navigate this silent, imposing territory alone.
She ambled into the living room, her worn canvas shoes a stark contrast to the plush Persian rug beneath her feet. The sheer scale of the place was breathtaking, each piece of furniture a work of art. A faint smile played on her lips as she imagined herself here, her small, determined presence filling the vast spaces.
Just as she was mentally cataloging the tasks ahead, cleaning those impossibly high ceilings, polishing the antique tables, a shadow fell across the doorway.
She turned, her heart giving a little jump, expecting to see Alex return. Instead, a guy with a weathered face and an air of ingrained authority stood there.
"You," he grunted, his voice a low rumble. He stepped fully into the room, his gaze sweeping over Nora with dismissive disdain.
"Don't think you can just waltz in here and make a mess. This place ain't like your local dirty village you scuttled out of."
Nora blinked, her initial apprehension replaced by a surge of indignation. Who was this man? And what right did he have to speak to her like that? She straightened her shoulders, her gaze meeting his unflinchingly.
"Excuse me?" she said, her voice dangerously soft. "Who made you the lecturer around here?"
The man seemed taken aback by her directness, his eyes narrowing. "I'm the chief security officer," he declared, puffing out his chest slightly. "I guard this place. And I know who's who."
"Oh, you're the gateman," Nora repeated, a mocking lilt creeping into her tone. She took a step towards him, her initial awe of the house momentarily forgotten.
"And you think that gives you the right to insult people? To judge where they come from?"
He took a half-step back, clearly not accustomed to being challenged. "I'm just telling you to behave yourself. Don't want any trouble."
"Trouble?" Nora scoffed, a genuine, defiant laugh bubbling up within her. "The only trouble I see is you, standing here, with your stinking mouth and your stinking body, blocking my way. Carry yourself and your attitude back to where you belong. Go back to the gate. This house is mine to clean, not yours to lecture in."
She pointed a firm finger towards the hallway leading back outside. The gateman, Ken, sputtered, his face turning an interesting shade of purple. He opened his mouth to retort, but Nora held up a hand, cutting him off.
"Go," she commanded, her voice resonating with a newfound authority she hadn't known she possessed. "Before I decide to report your insolence to the actual owner."
Ken, for all his bluster, seemed to recognize the steel in her gaze. With a final, furious glare, he turned on his heel and stalked away, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Nora watched him go, her heart still thudding, but a fierce sense of triumph blooming within her. The house might be big and intimidating, but she wasn't. And she certainly wouldn't be intimidated by a gatekeeper with a superiority complex.
This was her new beginning, and she was ready to fight for it.
She dusted the last of the intricately carved bookshelves in the living room, her movements precise and efficient.
The faint smile that had graced her lips earlier had broadened into a genuine, contented one.
With a final survey of the room, ensuring no speck of dust remained, she gathered her cleaning supplies. The thought of her own small, but impeccably clean, room beckoned.
It was a sanctuary, a place where she could finally exhale and truly appreciate the immense shift in her circumstances.
She made her way through the silent, opulent halls, the previous encounter with the gateman a distant, almost amusing, memory.
Her room, though modest in comparison to the rest of the estate, felt like a palace to her. The crisp, white linens on the bed practically sang with cleanliness. With a sigh of pure relief, Nora shed her work clothes, tossing them onto a nearby chair. The cool air on her skin was a welcome sensation.
She pulled on a soft, comfortable nightgown, the simple fabric a stark contrast to the grandeur surrounding her, yet it felt utterly perfect.
Eager to truly settle in, she practically dove onto the bed, relishing the plush mattress and the soft embrace of the sheets.
For a moment, she just lay there, eyes closed, soaking in the quiet luxury, the absence of the familiar clamor of her previous life.
Happiness bubbled up, a joyous effervescence that made her feel light and free.
Suddenly, the sharp, insistent peal of the doorbell shattered the peaceful silence. Her head snapped up. Boss? Had he forgotten something? A thrill of anticipation, mixed with a touch of nervousness, shot through her.
She smoothed down her nightgown, a quick swipe of her hand to ensure she looked presentable, and hurried towards the grand entrance.
She pulled the heavy oak door open, a question already forming on her lips. But the words died in her throat. Standing on the doorstep was not Alex, nor was it the burly gateman.
This man was younger, his features sharp and clean-cut. He wore casual, yet expensive, looking clothes, and carried an air of self-assured tiredness, as if he'd just finished a long day of… something important.
"Who are you?" the man asked, his voice a low, pleasant baritone, though his eyes held a flicker of a question.
Nora, still reeling from the unexpected arrival, found her voice. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
The man gave a small, almost imperceptible sigh. Instead of answering, he pushed past her, making a move to enter the house. "Long day," he muttered, heading for the interior.
"Hey!" Nora exclaimed, instinctively stepping forward and blocking his path. "Where do you think you're going? You can't just barge in here." Her indignation, so recently quelled by the gateman, flared anew.
He stopped, looking at her with a mixture of surprise and mild annoyance. "I live here," he stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"You live here?" Nora scoffed, her hands planted on her hips. "I don't think so. I'm the new house help. Boss Alex hired me. He didn't mention anyone else living here."
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "My Boss hires a lot of people. And house help doesn't usually get to block the door." He made another move to get past her.
Nora, fueled by a potent mix of stubbornness and her recent victory over Ken, stood her ground. "And you don't usually get to waltz in without an introduction. So, who are you, really?"
Their foreheads were almost touching as they engaged in a silent tug-of-war for the doorway. It was less of a fight and more of a comedic stalemate, each trying to gain the upper hand.
Just as Nora was considering a decisive shove, a familiar, gruff voice boomed from the garden path.
"Oi, What's all this commotion?"
Ken, the gateman, came stomping towards them, his weathered face etched with impatience. He took in the scene, Nora, Jackson and the open doorway.
"What are you doing, you useless stranger?" he grumbled, pushing between them. He gave Nora a dismissive shove, not hard enough to knock her over, but certainly enough to make her stumble.
"Don't you know your position in the Boss's heart? This is Jackson, one of the Boss's boys. He lives here. And you," he sneered, pointing a thick finger at Nora, "don't get to make demands."
Nora, momentarily disoriented by Ken's shove and the insult, regained her balance and her formidable composure. Her eyes narrowed, and she met Ken's gaze with a fire that belied her exhaustion.
"Foolish boy," she retorted, her voice sharp and laced with defiance.
"you should check your uniform, it looks like it's about to burst its seams. And if you think this is the Boss's favourite, you've got a lot more learning to do than just guarding the gate!"
Jackson, who had been observing the exchange with a bemused expression, let out a bark of laughter.
Ken, his face darkening to a shade that rivaled his worn uniform, sputtered.
Nora, having delivered her parting shot, turned her attention back to Jackson. The indignation was still simmering, but the sheer absurdity of the situation, coupled with her earlier triumph, made her feel strangely magnanimous. Besides, the man did look like he needed to rest.
"Alright," she said, stepping aside, though not without a lingering glare at Ken. "You can come in. But don't think this means you can just… behave like you own the place." She gestured vaguely inside, a flicker of amusement returning to her eyes.
As Jackson stepped past her, a thoughtful frown creased Nora's brow. She closed the door behind him, the click echoing in the grand foyer.
Jackson, she noted, had already disappeared further into the house. She wondered, with a touch of weary amusement, how many more people Alex had brought into this sprawling estate.
It seemed her new beginning was going to be a lot more crowded, and a lot more interesting, than she had initially imagined.
A few minutes later, the grand estate's silence was once again pierced, this time by a more insistent, almost impatient, peal of the doorbell. Nora, who had just managed to calm her racing thoughts after the Jackson encounter, let out an exasperated sigh.
She pushed herself up from the plush sofa she'd instinctively gravitated towards, a new sense of weary anticipation settling over her. Was this place a revolving door?
She approached the heavy oak door with less enthusiasm than before, a question already etched onto her face.
With a practiced tug, she opened it. Standing on the manicured doorstep was yet another unfamiliar face. This man was different from Jackson, taller, with a lean build and an air of polished aloofness. His dark, perfectly styled hair framed a sharp-featured face, and he regarded her with an arched eyebrow, as if she were a minor inconvenience.
He certainly wasn't Alex, Ken, or Jackson.
"And you are?" Nora asked, her voice laced with a growing mixture of annoyance and bewilderment.
The man's gaze swept over her, taking in her simple nightgown and slightly disheveled hair, a faint sneer gracing his lips.
"Who are you? And why are you asking me such questions?" His voice was smooth, almost silken, but held a noticeable edge of disdain.
Nora bristled. "My name is Nora. I'm the new house help here."
He actually scoffed, a short, dismissive sound. "Since when did house help turn into a security detail? Are you going to question everyone who comes to their own home?" He made a move to step past her, just like Jackson had.
But Nora, despite her simmering frustration, decided against another confrontation. She was tired, and the thought of another argument, another "tug-of-war" in the doorway, filled her with dread.
With a swift movement, she slipped out of the house, pulling the heavy door shut and locking it from the outside. The man inside stared through the glass panel, momentarily stunned.
"What in the actual hell are you doing? Open this door, you… you local fow." he yelled, his voice muffled but audible through the thick wood.
"You don't even know what you're doing! You look so… so out of place!"
Nora ignored his curses, she marched purposefully towards the security post, her bare feet making soft thuds on the paved path.
She didn't want more trouble; she just wanted answers. As she neared the small, functional building, she glanced through the window.
Her steps faltered. Ken, the gruff, seemingly perpetually annoyed gateman, was inside, half-dressed.
He was in the process of pulling a clean shirt over his head, and in the fleeting moment before he buttoned it, Nora saw him.
Without the bulky, shapeless uniform, without the usual scowl, Ken was… handsome.
His shoulders were broad, his frame solid, and his face, usually shadowed by his uniform cap, was surprisingly ruggedly appealing. The realization hit her like a small jolt, the uniform really had been deceiving her.
She quickly composed herself, shaking her head subtly to clear the unexpected image. She raised her hand and knocked firmly on the door.
A moment later, Ken, now fully dressed and his usual stern self, opened it. His eyes narrowed when he saw Nora. "What do you want now? When will you ever get sense?"
Nora sighed, exasperation winning over politeness. "Look, I don't want to make more trouble. Just… can you come check if this guy at the front door lives here too?"
Ken grumbled, but followed her back towards the main house. As they approached, the man inside, now visibly agitated, was still peering through the glass. Ken took one look and let out a weary sound.
"Bloody hell, Nora, that's Michael," Ken said, shaking his head. "Mich. He's one of the Boss's boys. He lives here too."
Nora stared at Michael through the door, then back at Ken.
She unlocked the door with a click, and Michael practically burst out, though he paused to glare at Nora with undiminished annoyance before disappearing into the house.
Nora watched him go, then turned to Ken, a frown creasing her brow.
She began to count, her fingers ticking invisibly in the air.
Alex, the Boss. Ken, the gateman, who apparently lived here too. Jackson, the first unexpected arrival. And now, Michael. Four men, all living in this sprawling estate.
A peculiar thought bloomed in her mind, unbidden and slightly scandalous. "Boss's boys," Ken had said. All of them handsome, in their own way. All living under one roof, apparently with Alex.
A faint flush touched her cheeks. She looked at Ken, still standing there with his usual dour expression, then back at the closed door.
"Tell me, Ken," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes wide with a sudden, audacious theory. "Are they… are they all gay?"