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It was bad enough that talking to Master made me feel anxious, it didn't help that every time I leave out of his room. I felt as though I was battling with unfamiliar feelings.
"But I don't like to share..."
His voice echoed inside my head as if it wanted me to understand what he meant. But I didn't. What did he mean by that anyway? He was not sharing a thing to anyone.
I must've been walking nonchalantly that I never noticed anyone or anything on the pathway.
"Alayna." I jerked as I heard a call. Madam Lennie was just an inch away, looking at me with the furrowed forehead. She was with a girl on her late twenties; dark hair, round eyes, long eyelashes that looked like an extension, freckles spread from her cheekbones to her pointed nose and almond-shaped lips with red-orange lipstick. "Are you okay?"
"Uh, yes. Yes, of course, Madam Lennie. I'm sorry, I was just uh, trying to think of what to do on my rest day." If there's something I was pretty good at since I got here; it was the reasoning. Reasoning, so I could never get caught with my own feelings and wonders.
The old lady nodded, looking unconvinced. "Oliver is waiting for you in your kitchen,"
"I-I got to go, Madam. Sorry." I said in a hurry then stepped beside her to continue my journey.
"Alayna? Alayna!" I could hear her calling me as I walked as fast as I could. Knowing that the mansion has CCTV on every corner all the more made me nervous. This place had no privacy!
I ran towards my kitchen. Oliver was there waiting for me. He stood up from his seat as soon as he saw me. "Alayna? What's wrong?" he frowned. God, how I wished that there was CCTV in my kitchen, of course, that's just a wish. I was glad all these cameras didn't cover sounds.
"No. I'm okay. I ran because... uh, Madam Lennie said that you're here. Do you need anything, Sir? I mean, Ollie?"
His left eyebrow raised. "I don't think you're running because of me," he smiled on the side of his lip. He crossed his arms around his chest, "Spill it out."
I blinked. "Really... because of you," I chuckled nervously. I gently smacked his arm. He caught my arm and squeezed it softly.
"Did Brandon said something?"
I puffed, "Uh. Nothing."
"He said something to you. You won't run like that with a flushed face," he grinned, sweetly. "Tell me about it,"
I pulled my hand out of his grip. "He said he doesn't share, and honestly, I don't understand what he meant. Well, there's like, a lot of things I don't understand about him."
Oliver stared at me, but seconds later he laughed. He laughed so hard I thought he'd ran out of the air to breathe. I glared at him.
"Ollie!" I shouted.
"I-I'm sorry," he pressed his lips together between words, "I'm sorry. "Did he? Did he said that?" he grinned.
"What's so funny about it?"
"What made him say that?"
"No. I think he just doesn't want me to work with you or as for your help on anything," I shrugged.
"Aha! So this is about me?" He chuckled. It made me think for a moment. Well, yeah, it was about him—and me? "I don't know why, but yes, it is funny, Alayna. My cousin seems to like you. Do you want to know what he meant?"
I laughed nervously, "Of course, it doesn't mean anything."
He shook his head, making sounds with his tongue, "Then why are you blushing? Of course, what he said meant something. He doesn't say something out of nothing."
"Whatever it was, it's not what you're thinking."
He leaned in with his arms on the counter, his hands clasped then stared at me smiling. Is he trying to be cute?
"Why? What am I thinking exactly?" he asked grinning.
"I know what you mean. It's impossible. Your cousin has too many issues with his life. He's not going to waste his time for something like that."
Oliver nodded, "Well, Brandon cut himself to the world and since then he never had a woman in his life. You won't believe me if I tell you that he was once a womanizer in his school. He was seventeen."
I rolled my eyes. "Well, bad news, he's seventeen no more. Gone are those days. He was young, wealthy, no one would expect him to be good, stick to one lad," I pointed out. "I know this will be an act of again, being too nosy, and there is a little chance that you might tell me, but, err... how did his family die?"
He paused. "Hold on. He told you about his mother and sister?" he asked me unbelievably.
"Hmm..." he looked up as if deciding on whether to tell me or keep it from me. "They are murdered in their own house. They were stabbed to death, and the culprit burned their house down and Brandon was the only one who survived. Almost took his life."
I gasped in shock, "Oh. My. God. That's... sad. That's freaking miserable, Oliver!" At least I now understand what he felt. "My father was murdered too," I answered, trying to gulp the lump on my throat away.
He sighed, "Oh, I'm so sorry about your father."
I nodded, "It's okay. I am too. Is that where he got his scar on his chest?"
"You saw his scar? How—"
"Uh...I'm not the kind to sneak-peek. It's just that, when I went inside his room, he just came out of the shower. I accidentally saw it. It was a really ugly scar. It's of course, surprising. He's a wealthy man, he could easily have it done. I mean, he could undergo plastic surgery or something."
"The incident gave him trauma. We tried to get him to the hospital, but he freaked out and run. Getting out of the house scares him, facing other people frightens him. He's afraid the same thing might happen again."
"I heard his father is still alive. Where is he?"
"He divorced his mother when he was fourteen. Basically, his father abandoned them and married his mistress."
"So that was it! That's why he's wearing a mask," I clapped my palms soundly, "he has burn scars on his face."