Frankie:She will be.
I can’t argue with that. His sixth sense must be working on overdrive if he thinks he can just pick up any random female off the street and have her teach him law. Maybe there’s something about the girl that makes her stand out. There must be some reason he picked her of all people to tutor him in law.
I put the phone down, realizing that I’m on the losing side. If Frankie wants this woman to tutor him, then I’ll go along with it. I might even find the energy to be cautiously optimistic. Just because they didn’t meet in an academic setting doesn’t mean she’s a hooker. I’ve got to think positively. And even if the whole thing goes to crap, my job is calling to me, and I’ve spent enough time worrying about my son’s new tutor.
I sit down to go through the notes on my desk, looking for my schedule. I’ve got a full day ahead of me, and there’s no time to waste. I pick up the phone to make the next call, allowing myself to forget about Frankie for a while. He’s a good kid, and there are only so many ways this thing can go wrong.
CHAPTER 3
MARLENA
Icheck the address on my phone again because I’m shocked. This can’t be the place. I’m looking up at a wrought iron gate with spikes on top. I can’t even see a house in the distance because there’s a wall of enormous hedges blocking my view. And those hedges are behind a brick wall, giving the place double the security any sane person would need.
The road I’m on isn’t even listed on the general GPS. It’s just calledroad. If this is the place, then the guy I’m supposed to tutor has so much more money than I ever thought possible. No wonder he didn’t even blink when he offered me four thousand dollars a month. That must be chump change for him.
I spy a call box near the gate and inhale deeply. Here goes nothing.
“Hello?” I say, pushing the button with caution.
“Hello,” someone answers.
At least there’s a person manning the gate, not just some AI security system. That seems like a step in the right direction. Atleast now I know that if I’m lost, someone will help me find my way.
“My name is Marlena Mancini, and I’m looking for Frankie,” I say, hoping I’ve got the address wrong.
“Come on in,” the voice commands.
I swallow, watching the gate swing open on its hinges. It looks like I’ve got the right place, and boy, does that make me nervous. I try not to think about my father. He was the kind of man who might need this level of security. I wonder what kind of business Frankie’s father is in that he has such an impressive home.
I inch up the driveway at five miles an hour, my eyes darting everywhere at once. There’s a beautiful garden and a well-manicured lawn out front. The house isn’t quite as far from the street as I thought it would be. I was having visions ofDownton Abbey, but it’s not that big.
It’s just far enough away from the road to be invisible, and large enough to be impressive. But it’s clear that Frankie’s not royalty—at least not the sort that owns a piece of American history. Still, you could fit four of my apartment buildings inside the home that’s on display in front of me. The exterior is in peak condition, as if it’s scrubbed and painted every day by a dedicated staff.
I hope they won’t kick me out for wearing jeans and a pair of tennis shoes. It didn’t occur to me to dress up, seeing as this is just supposed to be a tutoring session. But now I feel out of place. I press my eyes shut, cursing my own stupidity. Of course, Frankie is rolling in it. I should have considered his financial situation when I made my clothing selection this morning. But there’s nothing I can do about that now, besides I’m here to tutor him, not flirt with the guy.
I park the car next to the front entrance, since I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it. Getting out, I feel a cool breeze, as if Mother Nature herself is coddling the well-to-do. There isn’t even a hint of the city smog here, or any indication that we’re so close to the freeway.
I notice a beefy man standing on the porch steps and gather my courage to approach him. He gives me the creeps because he looks like something out of my father’s world. I try to tell myself that Frankie’s father isn’t mob connected. This guy, who looks like hired muscle, must be a gardener or something.
“Hello?” I ask tepidly.
The man says nothing, and that makes me feel even worse. I remember being a little girl and staring up at dozens of guys just like him. They all had the same face, the same eyes, and the same dangerous aura.
But Frankie rescues me before I can go too far down the rabbit hole.
“Hello! Marlena!” he shouts, coming down the porch steps, waving his hand.
“Hi,” I say, relieved to see him. Thank goodness. Frankie reaches out to take me by the arm, guiding me safely past the centurion. “Who’s that guy?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light. I don’t want him to think I’m being paranoid, but there’s something distinctly mafia-like about the whole situation.
“He works for my dad,” Frankie explains.
That doesn’t settle my nerves.
“Let me take you on a tour,” he offers.
“That’s really not necessary,” I say, hoping to settle down in some secluded room somewhere close to the door.
I’m not a fool. I don’t know what the guy at the door does for Frankie’s father, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t his taxes. And suddenly I realize that getting out of this house isn’t going to be as simple as walking out the front door. Someone is going to have to open the gate for me, which means I’d better be on my best behavior. I just hope this isn’t what I think it is.
