Now—as a cold, absent sensation slowly replaces Adam’s lingering hold on me—I wonder if it was really such a bad thing for her to come here. What if she found whatever she was seeking, and then she really did leave, safe and sound, of her own accord?
The Matthews are not good men. I don’t need more evidence to know that. But none of the secretaries are here against their will. In fact, they seem to enjoy serving the brothers.
After pushing the next tray in the oven, I glance at the clock. Aubrey stepped into the hall for a phone call three minutes ago. Turning around, I wipe the back of a hand over my damp forehead.
Even as I try to understand Frankie’s absence, the nagging in my gut doesn’t relent. It’s a sharp, stabbing feeling, and I know I can’t just assume she’s okay. I need to see it with my own two eyes.
Therehasto be something more I can do. Something more immediate than my current plan’s turned out to be.
Slipping my shoes from my feet to my hands, I tiptoe toward the door Aubrey took. I press my ear against the cool wood, and listen for her as I work out my next move. The spa is the closest part of the house, and Aubrey’s desk might have something helpful. It’s a slim chance, but it’s also the only thing I might get away with in this slight window of time. After overhearing Aubrey’s voice behind the wall, I’m about to rush toward the other exit when heels click toward me.
Shit.
Aubrey opens the door just as I slip back behind the oven.
My heart races, my eyes focused on the bread rolls baking, as if looking at her will give me away.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“What’s up with the shoes?”
“Huh?” I glance down at the shoes still in my hand, and my grip tightens. “Oh, they were hurting my feet.” Setting them on the floor, I kick the heels out of the way and clear my throat. “I rarely wore heels before I came here.”
She’s typing something into her phone when she approaches me. “You’ll get the hang of it soon.”
“I was wondering,” I mutter, turning on the sink and washing my hands. I wait until Aubrey glances up from the screen to continue. “What is it the Matthews do, exactly?”
She returns her attention to the phone as she answers, “Cryptocurrency.”
I frown. I don’t have much experience with the internet, but that sounds pretty clean. “So, why all the cameras?” I bite back all the other things I could add—why are there two mansions? Why the lack of windows and constantly closed shades? Why the secretiveness?
Aubrey looks up from the screen again. She shrugs, like the answer is obvious. “They have enemies.” After a second, she adds, “And maybe a few trust issues.”
“Just a few?” Adam’s deep voice pulls my attention to the open doorway, and my skin prickles with awareness.
He’s leaning so casually against the doorframe that I might doubt this morning ever happened if it wasn’t for the evidence marking my body. He takes a step forward, his eyes finding mine, and my pulse immediately responds.
“I’ve thought your request over.” He pauses, his gaze sweeping the room before returning to mine. “No deal.”
What?“You said—”
“I said I would consider your request. And I did. I don’t like it.” Aubrey slowly backs away, but Adam’s shoulders stiffen when she almost fades from view. His eyes go dark, and he growls, “Stay.”
I can’t deny a feeling of satisfaction at seeing that maybe he isn’t so unaffected after all. A tiny smile lifts my lips, and his jaw ticks.
When Aubrey rushes back to stand beside me, his muscles relax slightly. “As I was saying, no deal. It takes work to get to where Aubrey and Stella are. It’s not something you can have just by asking. I will, however, make some adjustments.”
I perk up at that, my spine straightening. “Okay ...”
“You’ll be moving back to the ladies’ quarters. Tonight.”
I bite down on my lip, trying to hide my disappointment.
“And instead of housework, you’ll begin catering to Aubrey, assisting with any duties she wants help with.”
“Really?”
His eyes narrow. “You’ll be sitting some things out, but for the most part, she’s still at your side constantly. Understand?”
I nod, barely refraining from letting a grin stretch across my face. Still not ideal for investigating, but far better than being stuck in the kitchen. “Yes, sir.”
