006 - House-Guest-Turned-Maid

Seara literally jumped to her feet.

"Daniel!"

Daniel Prescott, his face grim and his eyes blazing with inexplicable fury, walked into the living room.

The black riding attire seemed to devour him, the thick fabric a second skin that clung and sculpted his perfectly proportioned frame.

Broad shoulders framed his tall and athletic build, coupled with a pair of long, powerful legs that were encased in dark brown, leather riding boots.

Before Izabelle could stop him, he lifted the tray from the tea table and held it firmly in his hand.

"What are you doing here?" He asked Izabella with a frown.

Before Izabella had the chance to formulate an answer, Seara jumped to seize the golden opportunity.

"I knew it!" she cried out, jabbing an accusatory finger in Izabella's direction. "I told her that the Prescott family wouldn't hire disabled people as maids. It turns out that she sneaked into this household and pretended to be a maid. Daniel, we should call the police!"

Daniel tilted his head backward and let out an exasperated sigh.

"She's not a maid," he told Seara. "She's my guest."

Seara shrugged and let out a small chuckle.

"If you say so."

Not wanting to waste more of his time for a meaningless argument, Daniel turned to his house-guest-turned-maid.

"Why are you here, Bella? Why aren't you resting in your bedroom?"

Seara's jaw dropped to the floor.

"Wait, she lives here???" she cried out in fury, but neither Daniel nor Izabella cared to pay her any attention.

"Young Master Daniel, It has been three days," Izabella explained. "I can't just stay here rent-free. I need to do something."

Daniel clicked his tongue.

"'Young Master Daniel'? If I recall correctly, I never hired you as a help. What's with this ridiculous address?"

"I am sorry…"

As impatient as a landlord collecting overdue rent, Daniel stalked out of the living room and bellowed, "Mr. Bennett! Mrs. Barnaby! I need to speak to the both of you at once!"

Mr. Bennett was not around, but Mrs. Barnaby hurried over from the kitchen.

The maids scurried around, hiding behind walls and pillars discreetly, eager to listen in on the ongoing altercation.

Daniel was generally a polite and amicable young man, treating a gardener with the same courtesy he afforded his most prestigious guests.

However, once his anger flared, an authoritative side emerged, reminding onlookers that he was the heir of the Prescott family, destined to be one of the strongest pillars of society in the near future.

"Was I not clear enough in my instructions regarding Bella? Why is she walking around doing household chores for the ranch? Am I going to see her feed the chicken next?"

Mrs. Barnaby, despite being a figure of authority in the kitchen area, bowed her head in an apologetic manner.

"I am deeply sorry for mistreating Miss Bella. I will never repeat this mistake again."

In other words, she was going to ban Izabella from the kitchen for good.

"No, wait a moment," Izabella quickly intervened.

"I was the one who asked them to give me some jobs. If you must be angry at someone, then be angry at me."

Daniel stared at her.

"When I give my people a set of instructions, I expect them to comply and not listen to a stranger instead."

"They were kind to me," Izabella pointed out.

"And I naturally have to overlook their mistake due to their unsolicited kindness to you," Daniel remarked. The sarcasm in his tone did not go unnoticed.

Izabella took a deep breath and began, "I…"

"You want some jobs, don't you?" Daniel interrupted her mid-sentence.

"I…" Izabella blinked in astonishment. "Yes, I…"

"Then come with me."

Daniel returned the tray to the tea table and left the room without losing another word.

"..."

Izabella did not know what to think. She quickly hobbled after Daniel. The young man stopped after some time. When he noticed that Izabella was lagging behind, he slowed down so that she could catch up.

Daniel brought her to his study.

It was neatly arranged, with tall shelves and glass display lining the walls from end to end. The desk and the leather armchair behind it formed the centerpiece of the room, separate from the other furniture. It was overflowing with books, stationeries, and various miscellaneous items that seemed to be thrown onto the desk at a whim.

Izabella turned her head and gave Daniel an expectant look.

Did he bring her here to clean the study?

If yes, she knew where to start.

But no, that was not why Daniel brought her there.

"Have you ever written thank-you notes before?" the young man asked.

"Uh. Yes, I have."

"Perfect."

Daniel pulled out a stack of blank cards, a list of names and addresses, and finally a notebook from various drawers. Carefully, he laid them down before Izabella.

"Please take a seat, Miss," he said with a smile. "I need you to write thank-you notes for all the people on the list. Can you do that?"

"Yes, of course," Izabella answered without skipping a beat.

"Wonderful."

Daniel slapped a hand on top of a pile of documents on the desk.

"Once you are done, come and find me. I am going to give you more jobs to do. From now on, you are not allowed to do anything else beside the jobs I give you."

"... Yes, S... I mean," Izabella feigned a cough, "Daniel."

Daniel shot her an enigmatic smile before he turned on his heel and left.

Izabella blinked at Daniel's retreating figure. When the door fell shut and she was left alone in the study, she plopped down the seat and sighed.

Why was it that she kept inconveniencing Daniel, one way or another?

First, he had to pull her out of a burning car.

Then, he had to make place for her in his property.

Lastly, he had to attend to her stubbornness.

Izabella did not know what kind of person she was before she lost her memories, but she was starting to dislike herself.

She needed to find other ways to express her gratitude. Ones that did not grate on her generous host's nerves.

After getting rid of Izabella, Daniel returned to the living room.

By then, his mood had already improved significantly, but he still wanted to settle the score with Seara Huntington.

"I do not appreciate it when you waltz in here and treat my people as you please," he snapped. "If ever you are dissatisfied with my staff in any way, kindly come to me first with your complaint instead of lashing out at them."

Seara crossed her arms before her chest and pouted.

"Really, Daniel? Do you know how long I have been waiting to hear back from you? Besides, I thought she wasn't your maid. Who is she, anyway?"

"Her identity doesn't concern you. Now, what do you need from me? Once our business is settled, I would like you to leave."

Had the harsh words come from anyone other than Daniel Prescott, Seara might have exploded in a fit of rage. But years of enduring Daniel's cold and stern demeanor had accustomed her to his bluntness.

"Fine," she grumbled as she pulled out an envelope from her branded purse and thrust it in Daniel's direction. "My birthday party is in three weeks. I hope you can make it."