He's Under My Spell

A heavy silence descended upon the dining room after Elvis stormed out. The Governor, seemingly unfazed by his son's outburst, continued to eat with an unsettling calm.

Finally, he finished his meal and rose from the table, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Laura," he commanded, his voice sharp, "follow me to the office. And bring me my juice."

Priscilla was taken aback by the sudden instruction. She stammered, "Ye-YES, Sir!"

Betty, noticing her distress, nudged her reassuringly. "Don't worry, Laura," she whispered, "I'll make the juice for you."

Priscilla, still shaken, nodded gratefully. Betty, a seasoned maid, quickly prepared the Governor's favorite fruit juice – a blend of pineapple and mango.

"Here you go, Laura," Betty said, handing Priscilla the glass. "Take it slowly and be careful."

Priscilla took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the glass. She approached the Governor's office, her heart pounding. She paused in front of the imposing oak door, taking another deep breath to steady herself. Finally, she knocked three times.

"Come in," the Governor's voice boomed from within.

Laura entered the office, her eyes drawn to the Governor who was engrossed in a newspaper. He lowered the paper, his gaze fixed on her.

"Put that glass of juice here on my table," he instructed, gesturing towards a small side table. "And take a seat."

Priscilla, her hands trembling, obeyed, her gaze darting around the room.

"Don't be afraid, child," the Governor said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I won't do anything to you. I simply have a task for you."

Priscilla let out a relieved sigh. "What is it, Governor? I'm willing to do anything."

"I want you to report to me whatever Elvis is doing," the Governor stated, his eyes narrowing. "I want you to follow him discreetly, wherever he goes. You won't have to worry about your other duties here. Your sole responsibility will be to keep an eye on him."

"Yes, Governor," Priscilla replied, bowing her head. "I'll do my best."

"Especially," the Governor added, his voice hardening, "when he leaves the mansion."

"You may leave now," he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

As Priscilla turned to leave, a wave of apprehension washed over her. Why her? Of all the maids, why had the Governor chosen her? She was just a newcomer, a nobody. Did he truly trust her, or was there something more sinister at play?

Before she could open the door, she hesitated. "May I ask something, Governor?"

The Governor regarded her for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Proceed."

"I... I apologize for questioning your decision, but why me? Why did you choose me for this task?"

The Governor leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, let's just say you remind me of someone."

He offered no further explanation, and Priscilla, feeling a shiver crawl down her spine, quietly slipped out of the office.

Priscilla stumbled out of the office, her mind still reeling. How could she possibly complete the task? Should she tell Elvis she needed to follow him? Lost in thought, she walked aimlessly, bumping into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, startled. "Sir Elvis, I didn't see you there."

"I know what you were discussing with my father in his office," Elvis said, her voice firm. "And I don't need someone tailing me. I'm not a child."

Priscilla remained calm, but a steely glint entered her eyes with each word. "I understand your concern, Young Master, but I'm simply following orders. I don't want to lose my job."

Priscilla's determination wavered. Elvis had an intimidating presence, an aura of authority that made her uneasy. "You don't want to lose your job? Then perhaps I would want you to consider quitting," Elvis said coldly, turning to walk away.

He stopped abruptly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "What are you waiting for? Follow me. That's your job, isn't it?"

Elvis walked towards the pool, then suddenly began to remove his shirt. Priscilla gasped, alarmed. "Sir Elvis! What are you doing?"

Elvis looked down at her hands gripping his arms. Priscilla realized her mistake and quickly released him, blushing. "I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to... I just... you're blind, and I was worried you might fall."

Elvis looked at her in disbelief, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I'm going swimming, Priscilla. And yes, I can swim. Even though I'm blind, I still have hands and feet."

Priscilla felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. "Of course, sir. I... I apologize for my assumption."

Elvis proceeded to swim, and Priscilla watched in amazement. He was an incredibly graceful swimmer, effortlessly navigating the pool. He seemed to sense the walls, reversing direction without ever touching them. After five minutes of effortless swimming, Elvis stopped, rising from the pool and stepping onto the stairs.

Priscilla was bewildered. How did he remember the layout of the pool so perfectly? It seemed impossible for a blind person. As Elvis approached her, she couldn't help but admire his physique.

"Hmm, I know I have a good body," Elvis said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Stop staring, I can feel your gaze."

"In your dreams," Priscilla muttered, her cheeks flushing.

"Did you say something?" Elvis replied, taking a step closer, their bodies almost touching.

Priscilla stepped back, startled. "N-no, sir. Here's your towel."

Elvis accepted the towel and left the pool, leaving Priscilla breathless and her heart pounding uncontrollably. She leaned against the cool tiles, trying to regulate her racing pulse.