NIRELLE - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

I am taking gentle steps down the stairs because I am afraid I will run into Lucien or anyone else; all I want to do is eat breakfast and return to the room.
"Mrs. Vexley," a thick, familiar voice calls out from behind me. I stop on the stairs and look back to see Theo making his way to me. I look at him again; he seems too beautiful to be real. He is wearing a midnight black suit accompanied by a white shirt and a navy blue tie. He looks like a movie-perfect man who would own a large corporation.
I raise my hand to him in a small wave. "Hi..." I trail off because I do not know how to address him.
"Are you getting settled in?" he says, not worrying about how I was going to address him. For a house that has so many rules, I had been sure that there was going to be one regarding that, but he did not seem to mind.
"If by settling in, you mean losing my mind, then yes," I say, and he frowns. Maybe he does not like the answer he got; maybe Lucien would not like the answer when he reports to him as well.
"You can do whatever it is that you want; just tell any of the staff and they would have that prepared for you," he says, and I am supposed to be jumping at the opportunity to find a way out, but the thought alone scares me. I have been shielded for such a long time that outside now seems like the real danger, even though I know it's not true.
"I know, thank you," I say. He is on the same stair as me and stares directly at me.
"I have to get to work now, but maybe we might have dinner together," he says and does not wait for a response before he walks away, leaving me all by myself. I watch him walk away before he leaves me all alone, standing there. I realise that I should have asked him a few more questions, maybe about Lucien and the reason I was there, since I was sure that Lucien was not going to tell me anything. I might just find friendship in Theo, even though it is not what I am looking for.
I take a deep breath and find my way into the kitchen. I stand by the doorway and see three ladies in uniform moving seamlessly through the kitchen; it reminds me of a kitchen show I had watched almost ten years ago, when I still had television rights and privileges. I stand watching the sight. I have no idea why, but the scene reminds me of a life I never got to live, and I do not want to look away.
I am sure I must have been standing there for at least five minutes when one of the ladies saw me. "Mrs. Moreaux?" Her voice is loud, causing the rest of them to stop and stare at me. "Did you need something?" she follows up, walking swiftly to me.
"I came down for breakfast."
"I will guide you," she said, not wanting to scold me for intentionally coming into the wrong room. "This way. She stood in front of me and pointed to the door leading to the dining room. I knew this, but I knew she would shake her head at my request to spend a little more time in the kitchen. I still can't get over the fact that the room is comfortable, but I can't stay there.
She makes me sit in the chair I had sat in yesterday, and for the first time, I actually take in the surroundings; the wall is lined with paintings, nothing too deep, and everything looks like stock images, but they are beautiful nonetheless. They are all framed in gold frames, and the gold looks real, but if I am being honest, I am probably the only daughter of a rich man who can't tell jewellery apart.
"Do you want me to serve you?" she asked, standing beside me. I look at the table.
"Are we expecting company?" I gasp at the sight before me. I am used to a few slices of stale bread and some warmed-up butter with a glass of milk; that was as good as it got at the Thamore mansion, at least for me. This sight was a little too much for me.
"Of course not, ma'am," she said as if I was asking a silly question, but the mountains of food on the table made me believe she was pulling my leg.
A full English breakfast is set on the table. I am convinced that this is not for one person, as it looks like what would be set on the king's banquet table, with fried eggs, sausages, bacon, baked beans, mushrooms, and toast. A stack of pancakes, and they were not the ones I had made. Cheese and spinach omelette. A basket of assorted bread. A full plate of blueberries and a large glass of Greek yoghurt parfait. Two different kinds of juice and a pitcher of water infused with lemons, mint, and cucumber slices.
"All these for me?" I gasp again, and she nods.
"The chef does not know your preference, so he made all of this for you, and you can let him know what you like, and he will try to tailor everything to your preference."
"I do not have a preference," I say, and she looks at me as if I had just confessed to a crime. "Just have him prepare the same breakfast he does for Mr. Vexley," I add.
"Do I need to..."
"No need," I said, knowing she must be busy and I had to pull her away to attend to me. "I can take care of myself."
"I will be next door, so if you need anything, just let me know." She stepped back, and with a bow, she exited the room. I am left alone with a full table, and as I try each and every meal on the table, I can realise why everyone thought of the Vexley as a superstar; even the meals tasted like something that should be served in heaven.