A rude bastard

CAMILLA
~•~
After Antonio's rather subtle warning to stay away from his boss, I retired to my room. There, I sat on my bed and drafted some questions for mister Ivan's next therapy session. Antonio might have freaked me out, but he had gotten one thing right; I needed to remember why I was here and stick to it, strongly.
I was served lunch in my room, roasted turkey drenched in Mac and cheese. My dinner of chicken breast and orange juice was served in my room as well. I didn't even have to stand up! Now, this, ladies and gentlemen, was the life. My best part of this house so far, is that it was sound proof, hence, when I started blasting my Spotify sleep playlist from my small MP3 player, no one else could hear me.
Falling asleep was never an issue, except I had something that bothered me. That night, it was Freddie's refusal to pick my call, or answer any of my text messages. He even refused to play iMessage games! Freddie never said no to iMessage games. In all this, I tried to remain calm, slipped out of my dress, lay in the bathtub - it had a heater, and could warm water! - soaked all my stress away and jumped on my bed naked.
Don't be scared, my door was locked. But, just to be safe, I buried myself underneath my duvet.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my phone ringing. Grumbling against my pillow, I lifted my drooling face from the bed and opened my ever sleepy eyes. I stretched my right hand towards the bedside cabinet to pick the phone. When I brought it to my eyes, I frowned at the caller ID.
"Big sis." With a red heart emoji after it.
I hissed, placed the phone on DND (Do not disturb) and flung it underneath my pillow.
I did not hold any grudges against my sister, but that did not mean I was interested in becoming "friends" again.
I rose up from the bed, it was already 7am. I did not want to leave a bad impression on my employee by sleeping in on my first day. No, not even if his bed was the most luxurious I had ever gotten the chance to sleep in. My parents had never been exactly wealthy - "parents" being just my mom, who…well, died a long time ago, but you already know that - all my life, it had just been Tehilah and I. The more reason why I was furious that a marriage would make her throw me out so easily.
Was I a burden?
After my shower, I was at a loss for what to wear. Was I supposed to dress corporately since I was literally at work? Or was I supposed to dress casually, since I was literally at home? My thoughts went back and forth the whole time, until I decided to be in the middle.
"Middle" turned out to be a sea green skirt, tight on my hips and stopping slightly below my knees. I settled for a white long sleeved chiffon top and kept the first two buttons open. I rolled my hair into a messy bun above my head and put on my glasses, the world looked clearer now.
I figured Antonio wouldn't want me to cage myself in my room. I had to try to get familiar with the small number of rooms I was allowed to be in. I was sure that included the kitchen, so I had to find it. I stepped out of my room, down the corridor, while wondering what lay behind the doors I walked past.
I found the kitchen on the second floor of the house, along with a rather large dinning hall. The space in this house was pointless, he was just one man!
The kitchen walls were painted a bright shade of white, matching the coloured tiles on the floor. The U-shaped sink was placed in the center of the room, at the egdes were cookers, one gas and one electric. The microwave stood beside a basket of plastic fruits, and his inbuilt fridge took most of the wall on the left. It was built like a closet.
This kitchen was the god of kitchens and I mean five star cooking show type of shit.
What was I going to do now that I was here?
I walked briskly to the fridge, after picking a glass from stack of glass cups in a cabinet. I opened the fridge and welcomed myself into a hall of all things cold. The fridge was divided into several compartments. I did not know how, but you could literally WALK IN!
Luckily, water was just at the edge of the door. I slipped a bottle out and returned to the sink.
I was going to pour myself a glass, hydrate my dry throat and fully drink in the sight around me.
Exactly how rich was this man again?
I heard footsteps approach me, and I immediately assumed it was Antonio, probably coming to school me on how I ought to drink water.
I gulped the contents of the glass in front of me quickly, and closed my eyes to savour the refreshing feeling that followed it.
"Hey, you. Make me toast bread. And I like my eggs scrambled, not poached, never boiled."
My hand stopped midair, it couldn't make it back to the cabinet to drop the glass.
That voice did not belong to Antonio, or even mister Ivan - mister Ivan would never ask me to make him eggs, he knew better than that - this voice was unknown.
I opened my eyes to look at the rude bastard.
A tall man stared back at me, warm brown eyes and an equal shade of hair and beards. He was a shorter and brown eyed version of mister Ivan. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he frowned.
"You don't speak English? He brought you from Italy? Antonio brought you?" As he spoke, he tried to make gestures with his hands, trying to explain the words he spoke. I stared at him in silence, more cause I didn't know what to say, than anything else.
"You're deaf? Or you're dumb? Which is it? If you can hear me, nod." He threw his hands in the air, heaving an exasperated sigh.
"My brother can't do anything right, can he? First a lowlife wife, and now a deaf or dumb cool! You've got to be…" His whining was interrupted by Antonio's arrival. I turned towards the door. Mister Ivan followed him closely behind.
He really thought me to be a COOK?!
"Mister Ian, is there a problem?" Antonio narrowed his eyes as his gaze danced from this man, to me.
Mister Ivan leaned against the door frame and slipped both hands into the pocket of his pjyjamas.
Ian ignored Antonio and fixed his eyes on Ivan.
"A deaf cook, really?"
Both Antonio and Ivan squinted their brows in confusion.
Antonio's eyes danced over to me, clutching my glass cup in anger, he cleared his throat and sighed.
"Miss Camilla here is not our cook, neither is she dumb or deaf. She is mister Ivan's…"
"You don't owe him any explanation Antonio." Ivan cut in. His deep baritone echoed in my ears. I swallowed hard.
His eyes scanned the room and landed on me. The hairs on my skin stood erect. Paying rapt attention to every move he made was not doing me much good, but I could not help myself.
"Camilla, come with me."
Oh my sweat baby Jesus! He was looking at me! I mean, he did look at me all the time, but this was different. His aura of protectiveness oozed from all over his built frame.
"Yes, mister Ivan." I opened my mouth to speak and walked after him.
"Oh! So she speaks." The man called Ian called out to me. I shot him a stony glare, before I walked out of the kitchen, behind mister Ivan.