Breathe In (Just Breathe, #1)(91)

After taking care of Sadie, I pleasure myself again before continuing the rest of my regular daily routine. The morning flies by rapidly with a lot of work tasks and texts or phone calls with Jared and Maggie. Most of our conversations are about business, but they still manage to slip in a question or two making sure I’m doing good. After lunch, I resolve to have another self-indulging, sensual break. By two o’clock, after Sadie’s and my afternoon frolic in the park, I’m on the couch working on the programing for Raven 1.0.

Being well engrossed in computer coding for who knows how long, I hear a knock at the door. I never get a knock at my door unless it’s from someone I just buzzed up, and Jared and Maggie have their own keys. Looking through the peep hole, I’m surprised to see Anna standing outside. What the heck is she doing here?

As soon as I open the door, Anna offers me a friendly smile. “Hello, Ms. Emma.”

“Hi, Anna. What are you doing here?”

“Mr. Joseph asked me to deliver something to you,” she says.

My eyes drift down to the large, white box with a red ribbon that she’s holding. What the hell is that? What would he be sending me? Why would he be sending me anything? Did I leave something over at his house? Did I leave panties there and this is his discrete way of returning them? I quickly do a mental check. No, I didn’t leave anything behind.


Almost forgetting my manners, I offer, “Come in, please.”

“Thank you, Ms. Emma.”

“How did you get in at the gate?” I curiously question, leading her over to my couch.

“I flirted with one of the men taking care of the plants,” she admits, placing the box on my coffee table.

“Smooth,” I praise.

Delighted, she replies, “Thank you.”

“If I left something at Joe’s, I could have come to get it,” I pry, wanting to know more about what is in the box without opening it.

“Mr. Joseph didn’t say that it was something that you left when he instructed me to drop it off while I was running errands,” she offers.

Good. Embarrassing moment averted.

Trying not to get caught up with what is in the box I ask, “Would you like something to drink or eat?”

“Yes, please, Ms. Emma. Do you have tea?”

“Of course,” I reply getting up and heading for the kitchen. “I have jasmine, green tea, yerba mate, chamomile, chai or rooibos.”

“The green tea would be terrific. Thank you, Ms. Emma.”

Anna sits quietly as I prepare her drink. She glances around the room like she’s taking notes, either for herself or Joe. “I like your home, Ms. Emma. It’s nice and small. Not big like Mr. Joseph’s,” she comments earnestly.

“Thank you,” I gratefully accept her praise. “I bet it takes a while to clean his place.”

“A little. Mr. Joseph is not a messy man, thankfully, which makes everything else I need to do easier. Mr. James, on the other hand, is messy,” she answers, petting Sadie. “And, it’s not as big as the Covelli home in New York.”

Joe said he doesn’t have anything to hide, but to find out things I wouldn’t normally ask him directly through Anna would definitely be helpful. I don’t want to use Anna, I think she’s a sweet person and I don’t want to put her in a compromising position, but any additional insight to Joe or Henry that I would feel weird asking them about is a definite bonus.

“Have you worked with Joe’s family for a long time?” I keep the conversation going, waiting for the water to boil.

“Oh yes. Since just before Mr. Joseph was born,” she openly reveals.

“Wow, that’s a long time,” I comment.

“Lots of stuff I know,” she replies with a telling look.

If I’m reading her right, Anna seems to be willing to share some information. What exactly and how do I ask her?

Can I ask you something, Anna,” I inquire, setting down the serving tray on the coffee table.

“Sure,” Anna encourages adding some honey to her tea.

“Why do you Call him Mr. Joseph?”

Seeming puzzled by my question, she asks, “What do you mean?”

“You don’t call him Joe, Joseph, Mr. Covelli or Sir,” I explain.

“It’s always been like that. All the staff call all the children mister followed by their first name. Mr. and Mrs. Covelli are Mr. and Mrs. Covelli,” Anna clarifies, taking a sip.

“All the staff?”

I wonder how many staff members the Covelli family has.

“Yes,” she asserts, but doesn’t give more details.

Excited and nervous, I breech the elephant in the room and inquire, “Do you know what is in the box?”

“No,” she simply states. “But, I think you should open it.”

Is she suggesting that I open it now? Is she curious too? Even if Anna was Jared or Maggie, I wouldn’t open it now.

She sees my hesitation and offers, “Or, when you feel it’s best.”

“Thanks,” I return sheepishly.

We both stare at the box for a few minutes sipping our tea, like if we keep looking at the beautifully decorated box, it will open itself.

Redirecting our attention, I ask, “Do you have many more errands today?”

“No. You were the last one on the list,” she reports.