I was bustling around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces, when I suddenly thought I heard faint footsteps. For a moment, I froze mid-motion, thinking it was just my imagination. The mansion was huge, silent, and oddly intimidating when Nicholas wasn't around. Maybe I was imagining things.
But then… I felt a sudden tiny tap on my leg. I looked down, startled, and saw a little boy with curly brown, almond-shaped hair, peeking at me with a sneaky little smile—half-smirk, half-mischief.
"Oh—" I started, instinctively stepping back. My heart did a little jump. Who in the world—?
The boy giggled softly, crouching slightly as if he were about to dart away. He looked to be around kindergarten age, possibly in first or second grade. Tiny hands, mischievous eyes, and a grin that made it clear he knew he was up to something.
Before I could say anything, a man came up from behind him. He had a bemused expression, half bewildered, half amused. He was clearly trying not to laugh at the boy's antics.
"Sorry about him," the man said, slightly apologetic. "I work for Mr Nicholas. I picked him up from school, and… well, he wanted to come and play at his uncle's house. Seems he's decided the kitchen is a fun place for pranks."
I blinked, still slightly wary. "Okay… uh… no problem."
The man chuckled and pointed toward the little boy.
The little boy looked at me and said, "Go on, bring me the toy I've been looking for."
I frowned and crossed my arms. "You should get it yourself," I said, already busy with the sauce on the stove. "I can't leave what I'm doing."
The little boy pouted, but then looked back at the man, who only shook his head with a faint smile. Then the boy leaned closer, his voice teasing. "Can you get me a juice too?"
I sighed, exasperated. "Nope. You can get it yourself. I'm busy here. I have work to do."
The boy huffed, threw his little backpack across the room, and stomped his tiny feet. The man—Terrance, as the boy called him Terry—picked up the backpack with a resigned smile. "I'm so sorry again," he said to me. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."
I nodded, returning to my cooking. The boy's tiny laughter echoed faintly in the kitchen, and I tried to ignore it.
Minutes passed. I was in the middle of preparing the sauce when I suddenly heard a muffled curse.
"What was that?" I muttered, glancing over my shoulder.
The little boy had thrown his iPad on the counter, clearly frustrated. "I lost the game!" he cried, glaring at me.
I raised an eyebrow. "You lost because of me?" I asked incredulously.
"Yes! It's your fault!" he said dramatically, pointing at me with tiny fingers.
"Okay," I said, trying to keep my patience. "There's no need to get so hyper over a game. You're just a little boy—calm down."
He scowled but then tilted his head, his mischievous smirk returning. "Play with me!" he demanded, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.
I shook my head, continuing to stir the sauce. "I'm quite busy right now. I can't play."
He stomped his foot again but then paused, looking slightly nervous. "I… I need to leave for home before my mom comes back," he said softly, almost scared.
I knelt on the floor to meet his eyes. "Okay," I said, trying to sound firm but kind. "But first, you need to help me tidy up the mess you made. Can you promise me… no more lying or sneaky tricks, huh?"
He looked down, then slowly nodded, a guilty little smile forming on his face. "I promise. I won't lie again."
"Good," I said, brushing off my knees. "Now, help me pick up these things, and then I promise I won't tell your mom about this. Got it?"
His eyes lit up with relief, and he nodded eagerly. "Okay… our little secret?"
I smiled, letting him off easily. "Yes. Our little secret."
He grinned, bouncing slightly as he helped me pick up the scattered toys and iPad accessories. I had to admit… the little guy had some energy, and despite his tricks, something was endearing about his persistence.
As we finished tidying up, I glanced around the kitchen. Everything had to be spotless, perfectly arranged—no deviations. And while I appreciated order, I couldn't help but feel that a little chaos from time to time wasn't the worst thing in the world.
I gave the boy a gentle pat on his head. "Alright. Now go play quietly or get that juice yourself. I have work to finish."
He grinned and scampered off, still chattering under his breath about the game he lost.
I exhaled, straightening my apron and returning to the stove. Nicholas Knight's kitchen was a battlefield of rules, measurements, and perfection—but today, for a brief moment, it had been invaded by laughter, chaos, and tiny footsteps.
I shook my head, muttering under my breath as I chopped another onion.
"F*ck this man. His kitchen rules, his perfection… sometimes I feel like I need a degree just to breathe in here."
I stirred the sauce again, letting the aromas fill the kitchen, thinking about how I'd survive the next few weeks in this mansion. Nicholas Knight's reputation, his strict rules, his… well, terrifying precision.
And as I glanced at the stove, checking the simmering sauce, I couldn't help but smirk a little. Somehow, I knew the little boy's playful energy was going to be a recurring thing.
But for now… I had work to do.