The Housemaid(51)

“Che cosa?” Enzo says.

Andrew’s lips set into a straight line. “I said, we don’t need you. Done. Finished. You can leave.”

Enzo’s head tilts to the side. “Fired?”

Andrew sucks in a breath. “Yes. Fired.”

Enzo contemplates this for a moment. I take a step back, aware that as strong and muscular as Andrew is, Enzo has him beat by a mile. If the two of them were in a fight, I don’t even think it would be a close call. But then he just shrugs.

“Okay,” Enzo says. “I go.”

He seems to care so little about the whole thing that I wonder if Andrew feels silly for having made a big deal out of him working here so often. But Andrew nods, relieved, “Grazie. I appreciate your help the last few years.”

Enzo just stares at him blankly.

Andrew mutters something under his breath and turns around to goes back into the house. I start to follow him, but just as Andrew disappears through the front door, something restrains me. It takes me a second to realize that Enzo has grabbed my arm.

I turn around to look at him. His expression has completely changed since Andrew went back into the house. His dark eyes are wide as they stare into mine. “Millie,” he breathes, “you must get out of here. You are in terrible danger.”

My mouth falls open. Not only because of what he said, but how he said it. Since I’ve been working here, he hasn’t managed to string together more than a couple of English words. And now he said two entire sentences. And not just that, but the Italian accent that is usually so thick that I can barely understand him, is far more subtle. It’s the accent of a man who is very comfortable with the English language.

“I’m okay,” I say. “Nina is gone.”

“No.” He shakes his head firmly, his fingers still wrapped around my arm. “You are wrong. She is not—”

Before he can get any other words out, the front door to the house swings open again. Enzo quickly releases my arm and backs away.

“Millie?” Andrew pokes his head out the front door. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” I manage.

“You coming back inside?”

I want to stay out here and ask Enzo what exactly he meant by his ominous warning and what he was trying to tell me, but I have to go back inside the house. I don’t have a choice.

As I follow Andrew through the front door, I look back at Enzo, who has made himself busy gathering his equipment. He doesn’t even look up at me. It’s almost like I imagined the entire thing. Except when I look down at my arm, I can see the angry red marks his fingers left behind.





THIRTY-FIVE





Andrew told me that I shouldn’t be doing any work for the house, but Monday I usually go grocery shopping, and we’re low on a lot of supplies. And after I flip through a few books I pulled out of the bookcase and watch a little TV, I’m itching for something else to do with myself. Unlike Nina, I like keeping busy.

I have been meticulously avoiding the grocery store where that security guard tried to apprehend me. Instead, I go to a different grocery store in another part of town. They’re all the same anyway.

The best part is pushing my cart around the store and not having to follow Nina’s stupid pretentious grocery list. I can buy whatever I want. If I want to get brioche bread, I’ll get brioche. And if I want to get sourdough, I’ll get that. I don’t have to send her a hundred pictures of every kind of bread. It’s so liberating.

While I am looking through the dairy aisle, my phone rings inside my purse. Again, I get that unsettled feeling. Who could be calling me?

Maybe it’s Andrew.

I reach into my purse and pull out the phone. Again, there’s that blocked number. Whoever called me this morning is trying to call me again.

“Millie, is it?”

I nearly jump out of my skin. I look up and it’s one of those women Nina had over for her PTA meeting—I can’t remember her name. She’s pushing her own shopping cart, and she’s got a phony smile on her plump, painted lips.

“Yes?” I say.

“I’m Patrice,” she says. “You’re Nina’s girl, right?”

I bristle at the label she gave me. Nina’s girl. Wow. Wait till she finds out that Andrew dumped Nina and she’s going to be screwed over in the divorce thanks to the prenup. Wait till she finds out that I am Andrew Winchester’s new girlfriend. Soon maybe I’ll be the one she has to suck up to.

“I work for the Winchesters,” I say stiffly. But not for long.

“Oh, good.” Her smile broadens. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with Nina all morning. She and I were supposed to get together for brunch—we always have brunch Monday and Thursday at Kristen’s Diner—but she never showed up. Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” I lie. “Everything is fine.”

Patrice purses her lips. “I guess she must’ve just forgotten then. You know Nina can be a bit flaky, I’m sure.”

Oh, she’s a lot more than that. But I keep my mouth shut.

Her eyes fall on the phone in my hand. “Is that the phone Nina gave you to use?”

“Uh, yeah. It is.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “I have to say, it’s nice of you to let her keep track of where you are at all times. I don’t know if I would be okay with that if I were you.”