Erin tapered her brows, puzzled. More confused than concerned, she blinked incredulously. “You know, I would call for someone to escort you out, but I’m curious. What do you think you’re going to do?” she said, not batting an eye as he blocking her in her seat, arms resting on the armrest in like a makeshift enclosure.

His eyes scanned her, his overbearing figure fully engulfing hers. In silence, he stared.

She waited, but he did nothing except quietly peer at her.

Unimpressed, the corner of her lips wrenched into a snarl. “Nothing, huh? You’re going to do nothing.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Listen here dullard, clearly you are mentally wasted, so I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. I’m going to call to someone to escort you off my property, and these escorts will be men from the manor night guard. Men who do not hesitate for violence. Of course, I can always ask them to go easy, but I offer this only if you leave my sight right now, in one...” She held up a finger. “In two.…” She stopped, puzzled why he didn’t as much as flinch at her threat. “I said---ahem!” She cleared her throat. “---In one…two…two…three.”

He was supposed to be gone before three.

But he hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Enough of this nonsense. No longer will I humor you.” She leaned back and tried to stand but his hands latched onto her shoulders. With ease, he forced her back down into the cushion of the chair. She could feel her back press hard into the wood bone of the seat, his iron grip forcing her to sink backward.

She took one look at his hand firmly placed on her shoulders, and suddenly, without warning, the swallow came automatically. “Guard---.” Her voice shrunk when she felt him grab her by the cheeks, his nails digging into her skin.

"Lady Erina,” he said, his grip intensifying as he peered into her eyes. “The guards are not here."

Sweat beads started on her forehead. His scintillating stare nearly suffocated her. "What?" Her voice turned sheepish as he increased the pressure on her sandwiched cheeks. She couldn’t read the obscure look in his eyes yet his simmering aggression alone was enough for worry.

He clutched her like reprimanding adult does to a disobedient child. “Because,” he said, prying her face closer. “Rumor has it that someone told them the clacking of metal was distracting, and that the sources of such noise should be spare when you are near.”

“Uh---o--.” Her lips made movement, but she couldn’t find a single word. Her composure was slipping into a wave of throbbing panic and pumping adrenaline.

“Was that an uh oh?”

She felt anger in the hammering of her chest, but more overpowering was the flustered feeling that constricted her. “Whet go…or I screawm my head off,” she said, words muffled by her smushed cheeks.

“Do it then.”

She inflated her eyes to the size of disks. “Hwuh?”

“Do it then,” he said again, firm in his resolve. “I’m not stopping you.”

Fear ruminated in her chest, and for once in her life, she felt vulnerable.

“Why stare at me like that, my lady?” He stared into her enlarged pupils. “Do you think I want to hurt you?”

She rapidly fluttered her eyes, at a loss for words. She didn’t have to say it for him to know it.

“Lady Erina.” His grip still restrained her. “I would never lay a finger on you.” His fingers pressed against her cheekbones. “Not this lowborn.”

She swallowed, her mouth in the season of drought. With a tied tongue, she couldn’t find the energy to speak, not when her mind was racing, considering all the possibilities of the worst.

In tense silence they peered at each other, not a single muscle twitched. There was an unspoken fact between them: She knew he was serious, and he knew that she knew.

Amidst the taut tension, a smile slithered onto his face, sending shockwaves down her spine.

“My lady, no need to be so anxious. As your butler, my only intention to treat you well.” Gradually, he released her, stepping away with an even brighter smile.

The moment he pulled back there was a boulder lifted off her shoulder. She was quick to stand, a toxic mix of anger, frustration, and anxiety tingled on her trembling lips. “Treat me well?” Her voice cracked. “Treat me well?” she said, repeating with growing intensity. “You bloody bumbling madman!”

“Yes, my apologies for the dramatics, but I truly mean it when I say I mean you no harm---.”

“---You’re a dead man walking, Ezra Radcliffe!” she shouted, the passion in her voice rumbling her bones. “I’m going to tell someone what you’ve just done! Trying to threaten me! Trying to intimidate me! Trying to hurt me!”

Before he could reply, in a flurry of rage, she stormed forwards making a beeline to the door. She was only 5 steps out when she found herself plummeting towards the floors.

Thud!

“Uh oh!” He held his breath, watching as she crash landed against the floor. “Lady Erina!” He placed a hand on his mouth, playing pretend concern. “Is everything alright? Are you having another clumsy episode?”

With one simple jutting out of his foot, she had been tripped.

Flames explode in her chest as she realized that had been victim to the same trick twice. “You dastard bastard!” She lifted her head, blood trickling from her nose. “Guar---!” She stopped, realizing quickly that it would be futile. Annoyed, yet not deterred, she whipped her head towards him, seething, “You are going to be done!” She tried to stand, getting up only to her knees when her movement felt restricted.

Her dress was caught on something that restricted her mobility; There was a foot wedged firmly onto the hem of her dress. Her eyes traveled up the from the polished black shoe, up pants leg of a black uniform trousers, and finally to a smiling Ezra.

“Get your foot off!” she shrieked, exploding into a fit of ferocity.

“Yikes.” He tutted, shaking his head. “My lady, please calm yourself. Your anger has turned your face into a hot iron. People have been known to pass out due to emotional overheating.”

“Shut up!” She tugged at her dress, desperately tried to pry it out from underneath his foothold.

He studied her with delight. “Oh! I may have an idea.” His smile was vainglorious. “I think I know just what will cool you down.” He set his sights on another stray service cart that was right in his arm’s distance. “Let me just---,” he said, stretching his hand outwards to the cart, pulling it close in increments. “---get this.”

Ignoring him, she continued tugging, pulling, and even contorted her body around. Despite all her efforts, one single foot kept her bound, to thrashes and flays.

"My lady?" He softly called, requesting her attention.

Unrelentless in her tug of war, she briefly glanced at him once, and then twice. There was something in his hands that on second inspection, captured her attention.

“Thirsty?" There was a tea cup in his hand.

She stopped struggling, and grimaced.

“This will feel cool as it dries on your skin.” He raised the cup. “Believe me, I’m speaking from experience.” He overturned the cup, tea raining down on her dress and showered her face.

Quietly, she whipped away tea from her eyes.

Taking ahold of another cup from the cart, he bent down to her level, foot rooted strategically on the dress. “How silly of me. If you’re thirsty you should have the opportunity to drink, right?”

“I promise you.” She glared, speaking through clenched teeth. “You are going to regret this.”

His smile was cordial. “Will I, or will you?”

“You.”

Within just a few minutes, she realized she regretted those words and that perhaps, just perhaps…there were some miscalculations on her behalf.

"Just say aah!" The glee was clearly present in Ezra’s sing-songy voice.

Tea plunged into her ajar mouth, as he gripped her chin tighter. She writhed in place, unable to avoid the tsunami of tea flooding inside her mouth.

She tried to catch her breath from the onslaught of liquid being shoved into her mouth. He lifted another cup of tea, pushing it through her lips. She struggled, trying to push him away amidst the onslaught of herbal liquids waterboarding her.

"Tell me, how is the tea? I'm hoping you find it more delightful than I did,” he emphasized, wrangling with her kicking and tugging. “Easy with the jerking, it’s not like you’re being strangled." He happily emptied the cup even as she defensively shoved and pushed him with minor success.

She could only gag out garbled noises and sounds, but even with her muddled words he could recognize one particular word; "Des-picab-le."

In response, he couldn’t refuse the jovial chuckle that escaped.

The situation seemed laughably unreal to her. He was smiling and laughing, absolutely enjoying every minute of her suffering.

"Heavens.” His smile grew broad as she wretched and coughed, refusing the onslaught of tea with every thrash. “You act as if some tea will kill you.”

She could barely catch her breath from the assault.

“My, lady, never would I risk harming you.” He paused, lowering his voice. “But maybe, we can risk bringing you this close."

Her eyes bulged out, and her mind was doing somersaults. It was impossible to wrap her head around what was happening. He was torturing her and smiling like the happiest person in the world whilst doing so. What type of deranged, maniacal, mad man, would do such a thing?

It was then, about the time that she was choking on a different flavor of earl grey tea with a hint of cinnamon spice that she realized. She already knew the answer to her question because he was right in front of her, practically drowning her with an avalanche of tea.

He was a deranged, maniacal, mad man.

"In-san-e.” She pushed sounds out, coughs rioting in her chest. “You---.”

"---Don’t speak." His gaze was soft, caring, and tender when his fingers brushed her sealed lips. "If you talk like that, you’ll choke. I wouldn’t want that.”

As if she wasn't already disturbed enough with his torture, in the most violent of gentles, he began to slip his fingers into her mouth, prying her jaw open wide. With his free hand, he placed the teacup against her lips, tauntingly pouring out small increments.

Refusing to properly swallow or stop floundering, she coughed again, forcing words out. “W-hy don’t you stop?!” She protested and wiggled in his tight grasp, but he could hardly seem to care about her objections.

She cringed under his glare. She wasn't supposed to be treated with such rudeness---especially by some…lowborn. Her own butler, at that. In what reality did such things even happen?

She was flabbergasted, and more than angry---she was humiliated.

How could he, only a mere butler treat her, heiress to the powerful Sutherton family, like his equal? Correction—-like his subordinate.

"My lady.” He suddenly stopped, speaking to her perplexed stare. “Shall we stop?” He didn’t loosen his iron hold.

She had no desire to say it, but his grip was pushed her action. “You,” she said, coughing. “You’ve won, so enough.”

"What was that?" Innocently and as pure as a newborn, he batted his eyes.

“I said you win,” she croaked out, pure hatred at the very sound of the words. "You win." A bitter taste coated her tongue. Whether or not that was from begrudging defeat or the taste of bitter teas, she couldn't really tell. Her taste buds had already lost track after the 31st change in flavor and its accompanying disorientation.

"I'm confused,” he said, mockingly nudging her cheeks with the cup. "I wasn’t aware there was something to be won."

"Enough, already!” She quickly blocked her mouth with both hands, glare sparking to life, but the moment she met his stifling gaze, she found herself falling weary. "I’m done."

She was certain she was going to throw up or literally choke to death if she had to drink any more tea. Exhausted, broken, and more than defeated, she sealed her eyes. "Enough of this."

“Enough of what?”

“Enough!” she snapped. “What more do you want from me? Some sort of apology?” she sardonically said, scoffing at the suggestion.

Saying nothing, he stared.

After a few moments of shared silence and still being grappled in his hold, her mouth cracked.

“You can’t be serious.” She blankly stared, twitching her eye. “What do I have to apologize for? I have done absolutely nothing!” she hissed, vexation electrifying her to ferocious animation. “You are the one who should be apologizing you derange lowbor---!” She paused, noticing his attention was directed to watching rings jiggling in the surface of the tea in cup he held in his freehand.

Clenching her jaw, anger pulsated through her. “Sorry.” Her teeth chattered, quaking in displeasure.

"You’re sorry?" His eyes widened.

"Yes, you juvenile, immature, despicable, man!" She gritted her teeth. “I’m so sorry." Her voice reeked of lies.

"Really?" He watched her movements closely, a gentle smile growing.

"Yes." She seethed, ready to regurgitate the very words she spoke. "How many times do I have say it before you regain your hearing?" She was ready to break into a torrent of rage and frustration.

"Hmm." Their eyes were locked together. "If you’re offering, they say 3 is a lucky number."

"What?”

“You’re at one.” He smiled, holding up one finger.

“What?” The disbelief nearly gave her a heart attack.

“I said,” he flinchingly emphasized, raising his voice as if she were the one short of hearing. “You’re at one.”

“You must be insane.”

“And you are at one.”

Her teeth were chattering so hard that her mouth moved as if there was an earthquake.

“I will not humor you, and for your dull brain’s information, I apologized two times,” she hissed.

“How can I count before you set your intentions. Surely the meaning would be lost.”

“I agreed to nothing!” she bellowed.

Once more, his gaze slowly gravitated from the tea cup and back to her.

Her teeth were chattering, her lips trembling. She wiggled her knuckles tugging them into clenched and unclenched fists. She could feel her mind refusing, hear her thoughts protesting, and see her pride screaming. “Fine." She resisted the urge to bite her tongue or lunge at him. “Sorry, multiplied by two.”

His eyes turned tender. “You are so sincere, Lady Erina. I am so awfully grateful that some nobody such as me, could earn your apologies. Truly, I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m glad you shared it.”

Finally, after what seemed like decades to her, he released her.

Calmly, as if nothing occurred, he stood, dug into his pockets, pulled out a handkerchief, placed it comfortably between his teeth, slid off his gloves, and slowly wiped his hands.

Still on the ground, she peered up at him, wonderstruck.

“Oh? How rude of me.” He put away his handkerchief and slid his gloves back on. “Would you like a hand up?”

“‘Would I like a hand up?’” She coughed, a hoarse feeling ticking her throat.

“Yes.”

Was he…looking down on her?

“Ha.” She laughed once and found her wobbling legs. “Get out.”

"Yes, I will do as you request. But, before that, shouldn’t something be done with your room?" He viewed the messy confrontational scene around them: empty cups littered about, stains of tea blotched and puddled carpeted floors, and furniture was tossed about. "The entire room is in disarray. I can have the cleaning staff get to work immediately. And you as for you, my lady? I’m sure you desire some rest and a freshening up."

Her face puffed up with searing hot irritation. "Get out!”

“As you wish. I’ll be happy to allow you some space---.”

“---Get out! Get out! Get out!” she shrieked.

Without another moment of pause, he left, leaving her alone to explode, and explode she did.

"That horrid man!” She kicked a stray tea cup. “How could I have been so humiliated! I want him gone! How dare he humiliate me in such a way!" She stomped her foot, huffing in visceral frustration.

How dare he?

How dare he?

How dare he?

The thought repeated over and over in her head like a blaring alarm: how dare he?

"Just wait for my parents to hear word of this! They will think twice on ever allowing such impudence step a foot on our estate! He’s a foul mad dog that doesn’t know any sense of reason or decorum!"

Just speaking of him alone was enough to strike the anger more passionately. "How dare he humiliate and challenge me in my own home!"

She paced around in her room, chewing on her nails, trying to make sense of it.

She took deep heavy breaths, shaking her head as she stormed around her room. "How dare he?" She clutched one hand into her scalp. "And how could he? How could he insult me in such a way?"

"Excuse us, my lady?" Two cleaning maids entered the room cautiously. "We're here to clean up the mess."

"You don't need to tell me!" she jeered, shooting knives at them. "Just clean it up!" She continued her pacing on the border of a mental breakdown.

It was unacceptable to her. Repulsive. Sickening. And something had to be done.

Immediately.

"I can't let him get away with this. I can't." Her pacing turned into plotting. “He’s a mere service worker. He cannot be allowed to get away with such insolence. He needs to be put down.”

"Excuse us again, my lady, but we were also told to give you this."

She ignored the maid who stood behind her. Instead, she continued to ponder every mechanism of evil retaliation her mind could cook up.

“Lady Erina?" The maid asked. "Mister Ezra told us to give you this letter. It's from your parents,” she said, trying once more to catch her attention.

Instantly, her head snapped towards the maid at the mention of her newly designated enemy.

"What?" Her ear-splitting roar made both maids jump.

"Letter," the maid whispered. “It’s a letter for you.”

She took one glance at the white envelope before tearing it from the maid's grasp. “From Sabina?”