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I often wonder what most people picture when they hear the word beauty.

It’s such a simple word, a base from which many images and meanings can be pulled, but for some there is only one image that comes to mind.

Is a sunset the pinnacle of what beauty can entail? A wash of colors that blankets the sky, an abstraction of nature’s power written against the heat of a dying sun?

Perhaps a newborn child to a mother’s eye is the meaning. Or the rarity of a lone white deer passing through the lush verdant green of a thick forest.

It’s unthinkable, really.

Incalculable.

The amount of different opinions and images that weigh down a word with only six letters.

Despite the impossibility of ever truly defining the word, I saw it then, heard it, two syllables whispering in my mind as I snuck past a door left cracked.

It was a negligent error she always made because she didn’t care to protect herself. What could possibly happen to the baby of the family? Nobody would dare hurt the spoiled brat. Not in the fortress built around her with their family crest on the door.

Steam rolled out of her bathroom, a hot mist that fell against the colder air in her room. Above her, a ceiling fan turned in slow endless circles and her pale skin prickled in response. I wanted to think it was my presence that caused the reaction, but she never sees me. Not even when I am the only person standing nearby.

Lisbeth Rebel Rose, you are a monster, but more beautiful for it.

Does she know that I’m always watching?

Sometimes I think she does. Sometimes I believe that those hooded eyes and the puckered, dissatisfied shape of her mouth are intended specifically to lure me in. Ever since we were kids, she had that effect, her ridiculous childhood tantrums slowly transitioning into a cold silence that could chill my body to the bone.

Still, she’d grown into beautiful woman.

Two years older than me, she had always been one step ahead. While, I was the scrawny, worthless boy at her beck and call, she was a creature of habit, her favorite being to torture me.

I existed to serve her. To appease her. To take her abuse, whatever she deemed necessary, so that she didn’t have to wait too long for her demands to be met.

She could sit and I’d be her footstool. She could make a mess and I’d clean it up. She could cry and if she demanded I lick her tears, then my tongue would drag against her skin just like the beaten dog I was. My mother was hired to tend the family estate, but I was allowed to stay because I made a decent servant for the spoiled bitch of a daughter who wanted a servant of her own to play with.

Tonight was her debutant ball. Lisbeth was seventeen and would be formally presented to society. She would have a bevy of adoring admirers, and I would remain the poor maid’s son that fetched her dirty laundry, changed her bed linens and provided her clean towels. In her eyes, I was the epitome of nothing.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t watch.

Stepping up to a rack where a single white dress hung from a cushioned hanger, she waited for two women to walk up before dropping her towel.

Back facing me, Lisbeth turned her head to scowl when one of the women spoke. It didn’t matter what the woman said, Lisbeth scowled at everything. She was a petulant brat that wanted for nothing.

The towel fell to her feet. Soft. Damp. Still warm from the water and her body heat. My gaze traced up the shape of her calves, the tight muscle of her thighs, up higher to see the heart-shaped perfection of her -

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Snatched by the ear, I was dragged past Lisbeth’s door down a wide hall and around a corner.

My mother slammed me against a wall. I reached to rub where my skin was left burning. No blood seeped from a wound, but that didn’t make the pain any less. I stared down at my mother where she stood glaring up at me.

“Are you trying to get me fired? You know the rules.”

My jaw clenched at her hissed reminder.

The rules were a set of absolute requirements when dealing with Lisbeth. Only her. No other members of the family expected them of me. But then, the rules also applied to only me. As if I couldn’t be trusted around her for too long.

They were simple enough. I was to tend to her whenever she demanded, was to run to fetch whatever her little heart wanted. I wasn’t allowed to linger in her area for too long, wasn’t allowed to look at her unless absolutely necessary, and most importantly: I was never allowed to talk to her.

It hadn’t always been that way, but she’d pushed me too far when we were younger and I’d gotten mouthy. She cried, her father yelled, and the rule was made. Never to be broken.

I hated Lisbeth. And Lisbeth hated me.

But still, I watched her.

“Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

My eyes were downcast, shame painting my cheeks with red heat. If not for this job, my mother and I would be on the streets begging for scraps to eat. The Rose family had been good to us, and my fascination with Lisbeth had threatened their kindness on more than one occasion.

But still, I watched her.

Whether that be for lust or hatred, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was it couldn’t be helped. I was a fifteen year old boy coming to age with the raging hormones that came with it. I was tall, much taller than Lisbeth now, but I was still thin, still had a child’s face. Only time would fill out the strength and weight of my body and time was a tortuous, slow crawl, a rancid beast that couldn’t shape me fast enough.

“Give me the towels. I’ll take them into her room. You should go down and see what help is needed in the kitchen. Everything must be perfect. Lisbeth won’t accept mistakes for this night.”

I handed over the towels, perfectly white and ridiculously expensive. Lisbeth expected everything to suit her extravagant tastes. Her father was only too happy to oblige her. It surprised me they didn’t have a pedestal upon which to perch their beloved doll of a daughter, or a glass case to enclose her. She was loved that much. Pampered beyond words.

It made me hate her more.

My mother reached up to touch my cheek. She knew what I was thinking, knew that if not for my love of her, I would have left the house years ago. I would have gladly relinquished my role as Lisbeth’s abused pet.

“Go now. Before Franklin comes searching.”

Franklin Rose was the overseer of the family’s estate. Younger brother to Marcus Rose, he was Lisbeth’s uncle and the only man with whom I had more than a cordial relationship.

In many ways, Franklin had raised me. He’d been a strong male figure I could model myself after. But Franklin was never a pushover, and he was never weak. He simply didn’t have the highest standing in the family. Although, at times, I believed he preferred the shadows. Why take the lead when others could handle whatever businesses the family managed?

It wasn’t like Franklin had to go without. He profited just like the rest of them.

My mother grinned and patted me on the cheek, her anger from a second ago lost to the love she had for me.

“Go. I’ll take care of the brat so you don’t have to for once.” I’d do anything she asked. If not for her, I’d have no one and she had been a good parent to me despite the long hours she worked.

Rounding the corner, I walked past Lisbeth’s room without looking through her door again, my long-legged steps carrying me down the hall and to a stairwell tucked in back for the servants to sneak around unseen.

Quickly descending to the second landing, I stopped in place to find Franklin waiting for me.

As usual, he was wearing a suit that cost more than everything I owned, his dark hair swept back and greying at the temples. He had shrewd grey eyes that missed nothing and a smile that was more a warning than anything friendly.

A brow arched in question.

“Did your mom catch you spying again?”

“Fuck off,” I growled as I sped past him, my feet hurrying down another flight of stairs as he followed after me.

Franklin had never been the type to get angry with me when I was in a mood. He found it amusing how Lisbeth could push all my buttons and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Grabbing my arm when I reached the first floor, he spun me around to face him.

“She deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.”

I laughed knowing it would never be me to knock her down.

“Then I guess you’ll be the one to do it. Or maybe whatever husband she finds tonight. They’ll worship her for as long as it takes to lift her skirt, but then move on when something more interesting comes along.”

Franklin grinned.

“And that won’t be you, will it?”

“Fuck off,” I said again, attempting to pull away. His grip was too tight.

Glancing back at him, I couldn’t read the odd expression on his face. Franklin looked like he wanted to tell me something, but he shook his head instead and let me go.

“Hide in the kitchens tonight if you don’t want to see her. It’ll be safer for you in there.”

Nodding, I turned and walked down a long hall, my arms reaching out to shove past a set of double doors leading into the kitchens. They slammed against the walls, drawing the attention of the other servants, before clattering closed behind me.

I spent the next several hours helping prepare the dishes that would be served to all the guests, heaping piles of every food you could imagine. Polished silver appetizer trays and glistening flutes for champagne. Nothing was too exorbitant for the bitch princess.

After a while, I was asked to deliver a few trays to the ballroom. The guests would be arriving within the hour.

I’d just set down the tray on one of the large banquet tables when I heard her voice behind me, a silky melody of sound that scratched at my nerves while forcing my pulse into a pounding beat. I refused to turn around because I knew Lisbeth would only torment me.

“Callan? Why won’t you look at me when I speak to you? Do you want to get in trouble?”

A chorus of feminine laughter erupted around her and I turned to face Lisbeth.

She looked stunning. Her blond hair was styled back, half pulled up into a braid that crowned her head while the rest was left to flow down her back. Her white dress left nothing to the imagination, a tight bodice that showcased her supple tits while the silk below it hugged a tiny waist and round hips. I knew if she spun around, that heart-shaped ass would be on display.

Lisbeth’s head tilted to the side, a sly grin curving the corner of her mouth. Dark lashes fanned her ice blue eyes as she blinked once before saying, “I need to fix my shoe.”

Her friends giggled at her side and I nodded my head, ever the perfect toy, and turned around to kneel on the ground.

A spiked heel dug into the muscles along my spine as she balanced her foot on my body for leverage. I wasn’t sure she was actually fixing anything. Instead she was using me as entertainment.

It must have bored her that I didn’t flinch. I’d grown accustomed to the pain she could give. Eventually, she pulled her foot back, the heel clicking quietly against the floor.

I stood and moved to leave, but she grabbed my arm.

“Won’t you tell me I look pretty?”

The heat of her breath washed across my cheek from how close she’d leaned into me.

It would be so easy to strike out and snap her neck. So easy to teach her why it’s best to leave me alone.

I couldn’t speak to her and she knew that. But why not torture the poor servant’s kid that existed solely to amuse her?

My hand fisted, but I smiled instead, my gaze dragging to lock on the floor.

Lisbeth rolled her eyes and shoved me aside.

“You’re useless.”

Inclining my head once, I walked away, hatred rolling through my chest.

The party started an hour later, the grand ballroom filled with beautiful people in fancy clothes and the finest of everything. They drank and talked, admired Lisbeth wherever she stood, their fake smiles and envious eyes following her where she walked.

As usual, Lisbeth had her entourage close by, a coy grin stretching her lips each time they noticed another wealthy man that wanted to take her home for the night. I stood in the background watching and wondering what asshole would finally do to her what I had always imagined.

How was it possible to want somebody you hated so much? Shouldn’t the body be as turned off as the mind? It didn’t seem to matter, the disgust I felt. It only made me want her more.

A hand touched my shoulder and I turned to see my mother standing behind me.

“Take one of the trays around to collect their empty glasses and I’ll follow behind to give them new ones. It’s best to keep busy.”

She knew what I was thinking and my jaw tensed to realize how obvious my feelings were. But she was right. I had a job to do if we wanted to remain in the good graces of the Rose family.

I’d almost finished walking the room when Lisbeth called me over, her fingers clutching the stem of a half empty flute of champagne, waving it at me as if I’d forgotten her.

Around her, admirers laughed at her unabashed disdain for the help. My palm ached to slap her down, to show her I wasn’t a lap dog who would lie on his back and take the abuse.

“I’d like a fresh glass, please.”

She practically shoved the flute at my chest, her head turning to her friends.

“It’s so hard to find decent help.”

It took everything I had not to toss the remaining champagne in her beautiful face.

Behind me, Lisbeth’s father could be heard laughing at some joke the room wasn’t privy to. He had a beast of a laugh, fully bellied and as loud as they came. I turned to see what could be so funny, but froze in place, the room finally coming into focus around me.

There I stood in a servant’s uniform, my white shirt pristine and crisp, my black slacks ironed with a crease down the center of each leg. My vest was a deep burgundy in front and a silky black in back, a small catch that ran across that could be used the cinch the cloth in place.

They were the finest clothes I’d ever worn, yet not as fine as everyone around me. I was suddenly struck by the disparity between the attendees of Lisbeth’s ball and myself, suddenly hyper aware that no matter what I did in life, I would never be up to par.

A woman walked by, her stride graceful as the skirt of her gown fluttered at her legs, diamonds embedded in the ankle straps of her shoes. She didn’t notice me, her attention stolen by the man at her side, his tuxedo as perfect as his hair, their wealth rolling off them in waves of power that would never be mine.

I wasn’t sure why that moment hit me the way it did, but I could feel the green tint of jealousy rise inside me, my eyes darting from one person to the next with the dawning realization that I would never be good enough for them.

Lisbeth was moving on. A girl I’d chased since we were kids. Not because we were friends, but because she’d demanded it of me, and now...

Now I was left standing in place.

I was surrounded by extravagance and luxury, by beautiful women and powerful men.

Yet, even when surrounded, I would never be the same. I would always be a servant. I’d always be ashamed.

There was an incongruency within myself because I knew somehow that this wasn’t the life I should have lived. I was small on the outside but larger than life inside my skin.

I was better than them.

They just didn’t know it.

Anger coursed through my veins just as fingers snapped at my back, a chorus of laughter rising up to draw my attention around.

There was one other rule with Lisbeth I hated: never make eye contact unless she was the one to initiate it.

An entire life spent always glancing at her cheek or a shoulder or her shoes.

But when I spun to face her this time, I narrowed my eyes on hers, her laughter fading off when our stares locked and her smile fell. She actually flinched before regaining herself enough to scowl.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving now? You’re a servant here. The help. Nobody invited you to attend the party.”

A grin stretched my lips, something taking over me that I’d allowed this bitch of a girl to beat down every single day. But I’d noticed her falter for just one second, at least. I noticed the moment she’d hesitated.

I was just as powerful as her, if not more so.

Lifting her glass of champagne to my mouth, I kept my stare locked to hers while I drank the sparkling liquid down. Her lips parted for just a second before she stepped back to turn away.

As her entourage stormed off behind her, I knew what just a small amount of power would feel like.

I wanted more of it.

In that moment, I’d changed.