I spend most of the day in the garden, writing. The roses are in full bloom now, deep crimson against the stone walls. It's peaceful here. Quiet enough to think, to let the words flow without Salvatore's presence pulling my focus in a dozen different directions.
When the sun starts to dip lower, I head back to my room to shower and get dressed. It's still early, so I skip the nightgown and pull on sweatpants and a t-shirt, the ones Salvatore frowned at when he found out I'd bought them. It's not what he considered "appropriate clothes." I plan to buy him a sweatsuit for Christmas. Maybe some colorful socks. That should be fun.
I grab my notebook and the book I'm currently reading from my room, then head down the hall toward Salvatore's room.
When I get there, the door is slightly ajar.
I push it open and walk in to find a young woman coming out of his bathroom.
Not just coming out. Adjusting her hair. Smoothing down her uniform.
When she sees me, she freezes.
For a moment, we just stare at each other.
"Ms. Marino," she says, inclining her head slightly.
I catch a glimpse of red lace beneath her uniform, and she notices me noticing. Her fingers fumble with the button.
"Hi," I say, my voice oddly calm. "You're the young lady I met the first night I was here. How have you been? I haven't seen you since that night. I ummm… I actually forgot you worked here." I chuckle nervously like I'm the one who should explain myself.
Maybe because just weeks ago I was asking her how to escape, and now I'm willingly in Salvatore's room? She's proof of how insane my life has become.
"Oh." She smooths her hands down her skirt again, a nervous gesture. "Mr. Vitale has me on a special schedule, so I'm available whenever he needs me."
The words hang in the air between us.
Whenever he needs me.
"When he needs you for... what?" I ask slowly.
"Oh, just cleaning emergencies." She waves a hand dismissively. "Or maybe if he wants something to eat. Nothing major, ma'am."
"I see." I glance past her toward the bathroom. The door is still open. I can see the towels. They’re perfectly foldedand untouched. "What kind of cleaning emergency were you handling just now?"
Her eyes flicker. "Just... checking supplies. Making sure everything is stocked."
"In the bathroom."
"Yes, ma'am."
Hmm.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"How long have you worked here?"
"Almost two years, ma'am."
Two years. Two years of this "special schedule."
"Is there—" Then I realize the question is out of line and stop myself. Why am I bothering this woman who's just doing her job?
I try to change the conversation, looking for something nice to say before excusing myself, and my eyes drop to her wrist, where a beautiful gold bracelet catches the light.
"You have great taste in jewelry," I say carefully. "Ms..."
