The Housemaid(52)

I shrug. “She mostly just texts me. It’s not that bad.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She nods at the phone. “I’m talking about the tracking app she installed. Doesn’t it drive you crazy that she wants to know where you are all the time?”

I feel like I got sucker-punched in the stomach. Nina tracks me on my phone? What the hell?

I’m so stupid. Of course she would do something like that. It makes perfect sense. And now I realize that she didn’t have to go through my purse to find that playbill or call the house the night of the show. She knew exactly where I was.

“Oh!” Patrice clasps a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Did you not realize…?”

I want to slap her across her Botoxed face. I’m not sure whether she knew that I knew about it or not, but she looks like she’s taking great pleasure in being the one to tell me. A cold sweat breaks out in the back of my neck. “Excuse me,” I say to Patrice.

I push past her, leaving my grocery cart behind. I race out into the parking lot and I can only breathe again when I’m out of the store. I put my hands on my knees and lean forward until my breathing returns to normal.

When I straighten up again, a car is making a quick exit from the parking lot. I recognize the white Lexus.

It looks like Nina’s car.

And then my phone starts to ring again.

I rip it out of my purse. Again, it says blocked number. Fine, if she wants to talk to me, she can go ahead and say what she wants to say. If she wants to threaten me and call me a homewrecker, let her do it.

I jab at the green button. “Hello? Nina?”

“Hello!” a cheerful voice says. “It’s come to our attention that your vehicle warranty may have recently expired!”

I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it in disbelief. It wasn’t Nina after all. It was a stupid spam caller. I just completely overreacted to the entire thing.

But I still can’t push away the feeling that I’m in danger.





THIRTY-SIX





Andrew is stuck at work tonight.

He sent me a regretful text at a quarter to seven:

Problem at work. I’m stuck here at least another hour. Eat without me.





I texted back:

No problem. Drive safely.





But inside, I was reeling with disappointment. I had so much fun having dinner in Manhattan with Andrew, and I had been attempting to re-create one of the meals we had at that French restaurant. Steak au poivre. I used black peppercorns that I picked up at the supermarket (after I worked up the nerve to go back in), minced shallot, cognac, red wine, beef broth, and heavy whipping cream. The smell was incredible, but it wasn’t going to keep for another hour or two—steak just isn’t the same reheated. I had no choice but to eat my magnificent dinner all alone. And now it’s sitting in my stomach like a rock while I flick through stations of the television.

I don’t like being in this house alone. When Andrew is here, it feels like his house, which it is. But when he’s not here, the whole place reeks of Nina. Her perfume emanates from every crack and crevice—she’s marked her territory with her scent, like an animal.

Even though Andrew told me not to, I did a deep clean of the house after my shopping trip, trying to get rid of her perfume. But I can still smell it.

As obnoxious as Patrice was in the supermarket, she did me one big favor. Nina was tracking me. I found the tracking app hidden in a random folder, somewhere I never would’ve seen it. I deleted it immediately.

But I still can’t shake the feeling that she’s watching me.

I close my eyes and I think of the warning Enzo gave me this morning. You must get out of here. You are in terrible danger. He was afraid of Nina. I could see it in his eyes when he and I were talking and she passed within earshot.

You are in terrible danger.

I push away a wave of nausea. She’s gone now.

But maybe she could still hurt me.

The sun has gone down and when I look out the window, all I can see is my reflection. I stand up from the sofa and walk over to the window, my heart pounding. I press my forehead against the cool glass, peering into the dark outside.

Is that a car parked outside the gates?

I squint into the darkness, trying to figure out if I’m just imagining things. I suppose I could go outside and get a closer look. But that would involve unlocking the doors to the house.

Of course, what’s the difference if the door is unlocked when Nina has a key?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing on the coffee table. I hurry over to grab it before I miss the call and frown when I find another blocked number on the screen. I shake my head. Another spam call. Just what I need.

I press the green button to accept the call, expecting to hear that obnoxious recorded voice. But instead, I hear a distorted, mechanical voice:

“Stay away from Andrew Winchester!”

I suck in a breath. “Nina?”

I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, much less whether it was Nina. Then there’s a click on the other line. It’s gone dead.

I swallow. I’ve had enough of Nina’s games. Starting tomorrow, I’m taking back this house. I’m calling a locksmith to change the locks on the doors. And tonight, I’m spending the night in the master bedroom. Enough of this guest bedroom bullshit. I’m not a guest here anymore.