Chapter 53 Episode 53

“Nothing,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s teasing me or if she’s as worried as Chris is. “Just wanted to make sure everything’s okay with you after last night.” “Everything’s fine. Chris isn’t happy, but he… well, he isn’t happy,” I say, realizing there’s no way I can sugarcoat his reaction. Not that I need to. “He does not have feelings for me, Freya.” “No, you’re right. I think he’s just straight up in love with you,” she replies. “He’s way past the feelings stage. And I, for one, think you should go for it.” “You don’t even like Chris.” “Doesn’t mean I can’t see how great the two of you will be together,” she says. “And at least you have a shot at a future with Chris. I mean, the don is hot and everything, but he’s not long-term.” I wince. Why does it hurt so badly to hear her say that? “Um, Freya, I should get going now.” “Okay, just be careful, okay, sweetheart?” “Right,” she says. “Okay then. Bye.” I can hear it in her voice. She wants to say something else to me, but she’s holding herself back. “Yes?” she says, jumping back into the conversation. “What’s up? You sound weird.” “Do I?” she asks a little too innocently. “Yes. Is there something you’re not telling me?” There are three seconds of silence on the other line before she finally speaks. “I’m just not a fan of telling my friends what they should and should not do. God knows I never appreciated it when my friends tried to advise me.” “Are you trying to advise me?” I ask, mildly amused. I make eye contact with the security guard inside the little box house beside the black gates. He nods and waves me through the side gate. The blacked-out golf cart is waiting to take me up to the entrance since the driveway is so damn long. “I know we haven’t been friends for very long—” “But we are friends,” I tell her. “So you can say what you need to say.” “I just assumed that your feelings for this guy were superficial. Like, lust, you know? But it feels like you’re getting in deeper and deeper. That worries me.” She sighs. “I’ve known men like him my whole life, Jessa. They’re toxic. Everything they touch turns toxic, too. I would know. I was in an abusive relationship for the better part of two years.” “Not now. But he’s a powerful man. Men like him crave control. It’s only a matter of time, I guarantee it.” Between my conversation with Chris and now Freya, doubts are creeping in. The excitement is fading, leaving dread in its wake. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I cringe at my own lame words. “I’ve got to go.” She hangs up just as the golf cart stops in front of the main doors. I thank the security guard, who apparently speaks exclusively in monosyllabic grunts, and step out onto the driveway. The home is magnificent. Fluted columns, gargoyles leering from the roof. Its bones are Gothic, but the huge planes of glass that break up the beige masonry give the whole place a modern feel. I stare up at the gorgeous facade, wondering if he’s in there somewhere. Wondering if he’s waiting for me like I’m waiting for him. But the feeling is tainted now. Freya and Chris are in my head, and I can’t shake the feeling that they’re both right. I can’t ignore my instincts for a pair of incredibly beautiful gray eyes. That’s not the kind of girl I want to be. Not if I want to survive Anton Stepanov. One foot in front of the other, girl, I tell myself. I head straight for the kitchen. I expect to find it empty, but when I walk in, there’s a maid wiping down the counters. She looks to be in her forties, maybe fifties. Brunette with a streak of gray, petite, pretty in an understated sort of way. She turns to me, looking extremely curious. “You must be the new chef.” “Jessa,” I say, offering my hand to her. “And you are…?” “Nice to meet you, Vinita. How long have you worked here?” I raise my eyebrows. She’ll have definitely met Anton’s wife, Marina. Vinita immediately goes back to cleaning the counters and I wonder how to bring up the topic without making it obvious that I’m prying. I decide to play the long game, take my time. I tell myself I’m not procrastinating. Going slow is strategy, not cowardice. I go to the dressing room to drop off my bag and put on my “work” clothes. Which in this case, is essentially a t-shirt that I don’t mind getting dirty. It makes me feel even more ridiculous for picking out my outfit so carefully this morning. When I walk back into the kitchen, Vinita is still there mopping the floors. “I didn’t expect you so early,” she says. “I only need another fifteen minutes.” “Oh, don’t worry about it,” I say, realizing I need to make fast friends in order for this conversation to take off. “Can I help?” She looks at me in surprise. “Sorry?” “Can I help?” I repeat. “Oh. That’s nice of you to offer, but it’s not necessary.” “I really don’t mind,” I say. “Apparently, I don’t have breakfast to prep today, so I can take it easy this morning.” “Why would you come in so early then?” she asks. The message appeared on my phone last last night. It came from a number that wasn’t Anton’s. Whoever sent me the message gave me no indication of who they were. Just that they managed affairs for Anton’s “estate,” as they put it, and I needed to come in early. I knew better than to ask questions. “You sure I can’t help?” I press. Vinita squints at me, gauging how serious I am. I give her back what I hope is a pleasant smile. “You could mop that side of the room,” she relents. “I have a second mop in the cupboard over there.” I head straight for it and pull out the second mop. It’s got a stainless steel handle. Even the cleaning equipment looks fancy as hell. “You said you’ve been here seven years, right?” I ask as I get to mopping. “You must like working for Anton, then.” She gives me a strange look. “Mr. Stepanov,” she corrects pointedly. “He’s a good boss. But he keeps to himself.” “Was his wife like that, too?” I know it’s a bold and direct first attempt, but I figure she's almost done with her side of the floor. I don’t have much time. She stiffens instantly. Her spine goes straight as she turns to me. “Mrs. Stepanov was… different,” she says shortly, before turning her back on me. She’s making it very clear that she wants to end the conversation, but I’m not sure I’ll get the opportunity to talk to another member of staff any time soon. Not without listening ears or watching eyes, at least. “I don’t talk about her.” She turns to me with one raised eyebrow. “Because I don’t like to gossip about my employers.” “I… Shoot, I’m sorry. I’m just curious. I want to know who I’m working for,” I say. Then I realize that sometimes, the best stories are the ones that have an element of honesty in them. “I’ll level with you, Vinita,” I continue. “I was nervous taking this job. I’ve heard things about An—Mr. Stepanov. I just don’t know what to believe anymore.” She stares at me for a long time. I fear I’ve already alienated her. Then she sighs. “You’re young. And he can be a charming man. He has never been anything other than cordial and polite to me.” I nod, hoping Vinita’s words will give me some strength. I want to prove Chris and Freya wrong. I want to prove my own worst fears wrong. “But I keep to myself, sweetheart,” she continues gently. “I keep my head down and do my work. Which is why I’ve lasted seven years. You want to do the same? You want to put food on the table and go home at the end of the day? Then I advise you to do what I do.” She comes forward and takes the mop from my hand. Then she starts gathering up her things and placing them on the industrial-sized cleaning trolley. “Vinita, whatever you tell me, I’m not going to repeat to anyone,” I say, making one last ditch attempt to get something useful out of her. She stops at the kitchen door and turns back to me with a pinched look on her face. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘There’s no smoke without fire’?” “There you go then. Look hard enough and you might find flames.” She nods and disappears down the hall, leaving me to ponder the expression. The nausea from this morning twists in my stomach, back with a vengeance. As soon as she’s gone, I spin around and throw up right into the sparkling sink. I slam the front door hard, rattling the windows on either side. “I guess not,” Lev mumbles as I storm past him and my brother into the house. They both fall into step behind me. I enter the foyer and make a left. “What?” I snap, glaring back at Lev. “Where are you going?” he asks. I realize I’m instinctively heading towards the kitchen.