He looked at me, sadness and frustration warring in his gaze. “I’ll tell her you said hello.”
I stayed silent as he left.
The room was quiet, other than the crackle of the flames in the fireplace. I looked at the bar cart and the nearly full bottle of Macallan 60 Year aged whiskey. It would be so easy to spend the rest of the night drowning my demons in Scotch.
Leaving the room, I went in search of Fee.
“You hell beast! Down! Down!”
Magda, my sweet, silver-haired housekeeper, was standing on top of the marble island, flicking her dishtowel ineffectually at an indifferent Noreen, who was devouring the curtains on the big bay window in the kitchen.
I sighed, shaking my head. “Martin! Fee! One of you get your ass in here and take the goat outside.” Picking up the horned menace, I shook her lightly. “How did you get out of your pen, you vile little shit?”
My gardeners had put together a goat pen in my back garden, far, far back, under Martin’s anxious direction. The poor guard assigned to drive the beast from the farm endured eleven hours of bleating and kicking against the metal walls of the trailer.
I’d given the man the rest of the week off.
Noreen grinned at me, pulling her lips across those big, blocky teeth as she let out a spectacular fart, followed by a torrent of feces. Magda screamed, holding the dish towel over her nose as I dropped the goat back on the floor.
“Well, at least she lived up to your name for her.” Fee leaned against the French doors to the terrace. “Sorry, Magda, I didn’t know she’d gotten past Alec’shighlytrained and deadly security force.” Snapping her fingers, “Noreen! You’re a bad girl. Outside with you.” The beast sneered at her, but trotted back out the door, leaving the tattered remains of my Japanese hand-sewn silk curtains and a steaming pile of shit behind in Magda’s formerly pristine kitchen.
“Don’t you dare touch that,” Fee warned my horrified housekeeper, “let me get Noreen locked in her pen and I’ll be back to clean it up.” I knew she’d never want a member of the working class to clean up after her, Fee still insisted on making her own bed here and tidying up herensuite bathroom.
Her gaze returned to me. “Unless our gracious host would like to do the honors?”
I grinned savagely, many memories of clearing up bloody strands of entrails and severed body parts still vivid in my mind, even after all these years. I’d been raised by a man who was adamant that a leader never asked his men to do something he wasn’t willing to do himself.
Still… this hooved terror was here only due to Fee’s desire to torment me. “Magda, please get out the cleaning supplies for Miss Cassidy and leave them by the mess. Go take an hour and relax. She’s quite happy to clean up after her… pet.”
When Fee marched back in, she snatched the paper towels from me and removed the disgusting mess in a matter-of-fact way that showed she was not new to cleaning up after farm animals.
“Fawn?”
She looked up as she disposed of the mess in a garbage bag, tying it tightly. “What?”
“Is Fee short for Fawn?”
“What sense would that make?” She washed her hands thoroughly, then did it again.
“Fennel?”
“You think my parents named me after an herb?”
“Well, what with your father’s fancy plantings…”
She snorted inelegantly. “He like to would have, but no.” Leaning against the counter, she raised an elegant brow. “Were you looking for me, Godking?”
“Yes.” I looked at the spot where Noreen had defiled the kitchen. “We’re going to have dinner together, but I think a restaurant would be a better choice tonight. Poor Magda is likely vomiting up every meal she’s eaten for the last week.”
“Are you asking me, or telling me?”
“Whichever has you getting changed the quickest, darling.”
Her sneer looked remarkably like Noreen’s.
“This would be a lovely space if it didn’t have all these uselessly wealthy gobshites clogging it up,” Fee said. We’d settled in a little alcove overlooking the Italian restaurant. Chatter had died when we walked through, cautiously returning to normal volume when we left the main dining area.
The cavernous space was made intimate by a series of crossbeams overhead covered in living grapevines, with flowers and strings of lights dangling down. There were long, farm-style tables interspersed with two and four-tops. Our space was private; we could see the entirety of the restaurant, but none of the diners could see us.
