Chapter Text
You are in the middle of nowhere. Acres of clear meadows surround you with forests in the background. Colorful wildflowers decorate the tall grass. Blooming red poppies cover the peaceful scenery. They ripple under the slight breeze of summer. The sun is at the top of the clear sky, warming your skin as you push yourself closer to the window. You can feel its heat on your shoulder. The bus slowly rocks under you with every hump and turn. The muscles of your legs flex as you try to keep your balance on your seat. Your eyes are on the view as you search for your destination. Nobody told you you have to go out to the middle of nowhere. Nobody told you that Mr. Barnes lives so far away from the city.
"Hey, Miss," the driver calls out for you as the bus stops with a loud creak. He glances at you over his shoulder. "This is your stop."
You frown at his words but still move to get off the vehicle with a soft thank you. "And where should I go?" You turn back to the bus, looking up at the man behind the wheel.
"Go straight, miss. You won't miss it."
Well, if Mr. Barnes doesn't live in a tree, you are sure you won't miss it.
"Thank you," you sigh, nodding at the driver as the doors of the bus close in front of you.
Soon, the bus departs, leaving you on the side of the road. There is a wooden board with a riding school name on it. A painted white horse looks back at you above the crooked letters. The dirt road behind it leads into the forest with muddy wheel tracks. The musky scent of the animals slaps you across the face as the light wind swirls in the air. The heavy smell settles in your nostrils.
Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you turn to the other way to continue your journey to the given address.
The agency you work for called you a few days ago with an offer. They told you somebody needs a maid and asked if you are interested. You would have to move in, and it pays well. It was everything you wanted, but there was a catch. Of course, there is always a catch. You would work for Mr. Barnes. The mob boss. One of the leaders of the Avengers.
You heard of them before like everyone else. The gang rules the city and a lot of others. Some say they are harmless if you don't cross their way, while others are sure they are cruel and ready to kill you even because of a glance. You don't know who you should believe. You never had to care about them until now. But right now, you are in great need of a job and money, and you are not in the position to be picky. At this point, you don't care if Mr. Barnes is a gangster or a baker if he pays you well.
Almost half an hour later, you find the right road that leads you to the mansion. You can barely see the white building behind the tall brick wall that encircles the whole estate.
Well, at least he doesn't live in a tree.
You glance down at your watch with a relieved sigh. You still have five minutes until the interview. You are surprised you get here on time. There was a point in your journey when you were sure the bus driver made a fool of you.
You stop in front of the iron gate, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on your clothes. There is a panel on the wall with a blank screen. You frown at it. What should you do with it? You are ready to panic when a voice breaks your confused state from nowhere. Jumping at the sudden noise, you look up at the cameras that turn your way in sync with the question.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Y/N," you speak up after a few seconds of hesitation. You grimace when you hear the trembling of your voice. "I'm here for the interview for the maid position."
"Come in," somebody answers, and with that, the gate opens just enough to let you in. It creaks and groans.
A gravel road leads you to the building, splitting in two with a fountain in the middle. Water falls from the top with an elegant curve. Well-kept trees and bushes follow you on your way. The air is filled with the scent of blooming flowers. Small pebbles creak under your steps, and a man already waits for you on the marble porch. He wears jeans and a simple shirt. The fabric does nothing to hide his muscled body.
"Good morning," you speak up first, trying to put on your bravest face. A small jerk of the man's lips tells you that your attempt is unsuccessful.
"Good morning," he says, holding out his hand for a shake when you reach him. "Sam Wilson."
"Y/N Y/L/N," you introduce yourself, grabbing his warm hand. His squeeze is gentle and doesn't last longer than a second.
"Come on in," he says. "I hope it's not a problem if we look into your bag. It's a protocol."
"It's okay," you hum, following him into the building. What could your answer be? No? You didn't come all the way to back out now because they want to see what is in your bag.
A small room opens from the foyer. A man sits behind a desk full of computers. With a quick glance, you can see a lot of different parts of the house on the screens.
Mr. Barnes really protects his place, huh?
"Y/N, he is Phil," Sam says, introducing you to the man. "If you get the job, you will meet him often."
"Hello," you wave at him awkwardly.
"Ms. Y/L/N," he nods your way, taking your bag from your hand to look into it.
"Can I trust you enough to believe you don't have any bug on you?"
Your eyes widen at Sam's words.
"A what?" You ask back.
"A listening device," he explains.
"Oh," you gasp. "No. I-I have nothing on me besides... clothes."
You are not sure you would let them search you even though you really need the job.
"Okay," Phil speaks up, giving you back your bag. "It's clear."
"Great," Sam nods, touching your elbow for a second to goad you to the stairs. "We will talk in my office if it's okay with you?"
"Sure," you nod, following up to the second floor.
You are confused about where Mr. Barnes is, but after some thinking, it's obvious he wouldn't waste his time on you. You are sure he has much more important things to do than questioning somebody for a maid position.
The house is beautiful with natural colors and huge windows. Expensive paintings hang on the walls with more expensive furniture and decorations all around the place.
After a few turns, you entirely lost yourself in the corridors, almost walking into the man when he stops in front of a door.
"Sit down, please," he says, motioning you to one of the chairs in front of a huge mahogany desk.
"So, Y/N Y/L/N," he starts, sitting down on his chair, and leaning back on it. "You live in the city with one of your friends, correct?"
"Yes," you nod, surprised.
Sam smiles at you apologetically, seeing your shock.
"Background check," he says. "I hope you understand."
"Yes," you nod.
It doesn't mean you feel comfortable with it. What do they know about you already?
"And you have already worked as a maid before," he states.
"Yes," you nod again. "For two years. And before it, I worked in hotels."
"So you know what you would have to do here. Bucky doesn't ask much, just basic cleaning and keeping everything organized. He has a chef and a few gardeners. They come and go every few days. And a team comes a few times a month for deep cleaning."
You nod. It's a relief. You don't know how you could keep this place clean alone all the time. You would need a week just to wash the windows.
"If you get the job, you would have to live here. Is it okay?"
"Yes."
"And I guess you already know about what we do?"
"Yes."
Your lips are dry, and you have to force your leg not to bounce. Everybody knows what they do.
"I shouldn't even say this, but this job requires discretion. I'm sure you will see and hear things that may disturb you, but Bucky needs someone who can keep her mouth shut and turn a blind eye on things."
"I can do that," you reply a bit too quickly. "I mean, I will try... I hope."
"It's okay, Y/N," Sam smiles at you warmly. "It's understandable you are a bit nervous."
Nervous doesn't describe how you really feel. A job interview is already stressful enough without meeting with gangsters.
"A lot of our men sleep here from time to time, or they even move in when needed. All of us have our own rooms, and it's not your job to keep them tidy, but they still need cleaning from time to time. And the same goes for the offices. Most of your job will be in the common rooms and what they ask you to do. Is it okay?"
"Yes," you nod. "I can even help in the kitchen or in the garden," you offer, hoping you don't sound too desperate.
"Can you cook?"
"Yes." You are not a master chef, but nobody complained before.
"And the garden?"
"I learn quickly."
"That's a good thing in this house. Do you have anything else to say?"
"I guess you already know everything," you tell him after some thinking. You hope the sarcasm isn't so obvious in your tone.
"That's probably true," he nods. "If that's it, we are done here. I will call you this week with the decision, but I wouldn't be worried if I were you. For obvious reasons, not many people applied for this job."
You don't feel better after his comment. Maybe applying for the job was a mistake? The others maybe know something you don't?
You stand up from your seat, unsure about what to do next. Is it really over?
"You can go, Y/N," he nods, busying himself with a document in front of him.
"Thank you," you reply in the end, making your way to the door with a last glance back to the man. "Have a nice day, Mr. Wilson."
The moment you touch the handle, the door bursts open, almost hitting you on the face. A loud gasp breaks up from your chest as you jump back.
"Oh!" A man stops at the doorway, looking at you with shock. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," you croak out. "I'm fine."
"Are you here for the job?"
"Yes," you nod.
"We are finished just now," Sam says. "Steve, let Y/N go on her way. I'm sure she has already fed up with us."
Sam's voice is cheeky and humorous as the blond man in front of you steps out of your way to let you leave.
"Have a nice day," you tell them again as a goodbye.
A relieved sigh leaves your lips as you step out of the room before you stop in your tracks. Where did you come from?
"You are a bastard, Sam," Steve says to his friend after the door closes behind him with a soft click. A devilish smile pulls on his lips. "She will wrap Bucky around her little finger within a minute."
Steve Rogers knows his best friend and the type of women Bucky likes. And you are just the type.
"He deserves it after making fun of me so many times because of Leila."
A muffled knock cuts into their conversation before Steve can answer.
"Yes?" The blond man opens the door, becoming face to face with you once again. "Did you forget something?"
"I..." you clear your throat. "I don't know where the exit is," you confess. Your skin heats up, and the men's laugh doesn't help your embarrassment even though their amusement is not mocking. You don't want to know what they may think of you now. The silly girl can't even find her way out of the building that's bigger than all of the houses she lived in her whole life.
"I will show you," Steve offers, looking back at Sam over his shoulder. "We will talk later."
"I'm Steve Rogers, by the way," he introduces himself formally, walking beside you.
"Y/N Y/L/N," you reply.
"I didn't see your car outside."
"I came by bus," you shrug.
"Bus?" He asks, surprised. "I will take you home."
It's not an offer. It's a statement.
"You don't have to," you argue softly anyway. "I'm sure you have more important things to do."
"It's fine, Y/N," he smiles at you. His crystal blue eyes gleam under the rays of sunshine filtering through the windows.
"Thank you," you reply at the end. Arguing with Steve would probably be futile, so you don't even try it. If he wants to take you home, so be it. You would have to wait for the next bus for an hour anyway.
You are happy the interview is over. Both Sam and Steve seem nice, but you know better than to trust their facade. They are dangerous men, and you still didn't meet with your boss.
Mr. Barnes.