Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
The pictures are of foreign places and cities, maybe places he’s visited.
A walk-in closet connects his bedroom to his private bathroom. The closet is bigger than my room with suits organized by color and shelves for shoes and ties. Gabriel is painstakingly neat. There are no dirty clothes or towels on the floor. Whatever toiletries he uses are stored in the cupboards. Nothing stands on the shelves, not even a toothbrush. His bathroom tiles are black and white with a gray border running above the twin basins. The taps and fittings are brass, and it’s a bitch to polish them to a shine. I scrub until my nails are chipped, but that’s the easy part. The not-so-easy part is trying not to feel the shame of my reaction to him as, even in his physical absence, his lingering presence taunts and torments me, forcing me to remember.
Oscar follows me around, keeping me company. By the time the morning deliveries arrive, I’m shaky with hunger. After wolfing down a bowl of noodles and an apple for breakfast, I feel better. Walking into my room for a quick bathroom break, my gaze falls on a box on the edge of the basin. I pick it up to read the label. Birth control pills. My face is ablaze with heat, even as my stomach turns to ice. I’ve never used birth control. Never needed it. With a shaky hand, I take out the leaflet and read the instructions. It feels like I’m crossing the last line by accepting the pills, but falling pregnant will be a disaster, and as crazy as it sounds to appreciate any gesture from my captor, I’m thankful to Gabriel for his consideration in this regard.
* * *
I’m hanging out the laundry when a whistle catches my attention. The driver from yesterday enters through the courtyard door.
“Morning.” He offers me an uncertain smile, eyeing my uniform. “How are you?”
I don’t know what to make of his greeting, so I simply say, “Fine, thank you.”
“I’m Quincy.”
I tug a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Hi.”
When I resume hanging the washing, he cuts the small talk. “I came to warn you not to come outside before clearing it with the guard house.”
“The guard house?”
“We live in a staff house at the back of the estate. There’s a phone in the kitchen. If you dial the button marked guard house, one of us will pick up.”
“Oh.”
“Next time, if the door is open,” he motions at the garden access, “call before you come outside.”
“Why?”
“Gabriel keeps a guard dog. He patrols the garden, and we’ve had an accident before.”
“Okay.”
“Well then, have a nice day.” He must realize what a stupid thing that is to say, because his cheekbones turn a shade darker. “See you later.” With an awkward salute, he hurries away.
Picking up the empty basket, I notice Marie in front of the kitchen window, watching me.
* * *
Sometime during the day, Gabriel and Magda must’ve left, because they’re gone when Carly comes home at five. Judging by her casual clothes and the late hour of her return, she attends a private school. Public schools require uniforms and are out before lunchtime. Marie has already left when Carly finds me ironing in the scullery.
“Valentina, right?” She leans on the wall and bites into a peach.
“That’s right.”
“My dad didn’t say he was hiring a maid.” She regards me from under her lashes. “Can you bake?”
“Yes.”
“Will you bake me a cake for dessert? Marie made flan. I hate flan.”
I crane my neck to check the time on the wall clock in the kitchen. I need to finish earlier tonight so I can do my homework, but I can fit something in if it’s not too complicated.
“What do you like?”
She swings the fruit by the stalk. “Anything with coconut.”
I know a simple recipe for honey and coconut cake that doesn’t take long. The ingredients are common enough. The chances are good I’ll find everything I need in the pantry. I switch off the iron. “All right.”
When the base cake comes out of the oven, I pour the melted butter, honey, and shredded coconut over the top, and caramelize it to a crispy brown under the grill. Carly leans on the kitchen counter as I remove the cake, her blonde hair hanging in a braid down her back. She’s a stunning girl. She doesn’t take after her father. Her mom must be gorgeous.
Carly sniffs appreciatively. “That smells good. I’ll have a slice now.”
She’s not a child, but I say what I’d say to Charlie. “You’ll spoil your appetite for dinner.”
“Come on, Valentina.” She pouts. “My mom never lets me have sweets. It’s bad for my figure.” She motions at her body on which there isn’t an ounce of fat. “Daddy will be home any minute now, and I don’t want him to know I’m snacking before meals. I’ll never hear the end of it.”