Page 36

She says this as though she assumes I know Aidan’s whole backstory. I smile and nod like I have any idea what she’s talking about.
On the second floor we go down an impossibly long hallway, past the room I was sure was the master bedroom. We don’t stop until we get to the very end of the hallway, just beside a secondary back staircase. Two guards I recognize quite well, stand outside the door.
The goons. My second shift goons, specifically.
Cora acts as if they aren’t even there, and guides me into the room.
“These are your private quarters, Mrs. Stryker.”
It’s a bright multi-room suite. The suite begins with a sitting room with a television, sofa, and a couple of chairs. A vase of fresh white roses sits on the coffee table. There’s a bar and a stylish mini-fridge off to one side. A set of white double doors lead into a bedroom with a king-sized bed and a fireplace.
Off to one side is the door that leads out onto the balcony. I step outside, sucking in the fresh air like it’s my last chance to get it. The balcony is isolated and doesn’t connect to any other second floor balconies or entrances back into the house. And the drop is steep. There’s no trellis or any other convenient way to climb down. Any attempt to jump off would result in serious injury or death. He’s not worried about me escaping this way.
“This used to be Aidan’s mother’s rooms,” Cora comments.
“Where is she now?” I ask. I feel stupid as soon as I’ve said it. I’d heard of his father’s death when we were children, but at that age everybody I knew had a mother, and my brain just never processed what him living with an uncle truly meant.
Cora seems surprised I don’t already know this. “She died right after Aidan turned five, and then eight months later, his father passed as well.”
“How did she die?”
“Oh, we don’t speak of it,” Cora says. But she doesn’t say it in an unkind or judgmental way. Just matter-of-fact as though it’s just one of the house rules. She doesn’t seem like the person to have an unkind bone in her body which makes it a mystery why she’d work for a family like this.
“And here is your closet.” She gestures and seems quite proud as she guides me through the door as though it’s the crown jewel of the entire suite.
The closet is a huge elegant white and beige walk-in, the size of the bedroom I grew up in. It’s not just a closet. It’s a dressing room. It’s well-lit with a three-paneled floor-length mirror, a plush chair, a sofa, and a small side table with a lamp, as if someone might take tea up here while contemplating their vast wardrobe.
There are shelves for my shoes, places for jewelry, spaces to hang clothes and to fold and store them, what feels like endless drawers with small crystal knobs.
It takes me a moment to realize what I’m really looking at. There are already shoes and clothes and jewelry in here. Not just things in my size but my things. My things which were auctioned off by the government in a single big lot are all here. I’m sure I gasp, but I cover my reaction quickly when Cora looks my way again.
“And finally, the bathroom,” she says.
It’s the last door on the tour. A giant whirlpool tub stands as the centerpiece in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the property.
“During the day, no one would be able to see in, but if you decide to use the bath at night, you might want to draw the curtains, first for privacy” Cora says. A gauzy white curtain is pulled back and looped around an ornate hook.
I’m not sure the curtain conceals much, but all I say is, “Thank you.”
Even at night, it’s an amazing view given how well-lit the entire property and all the walking paths are. There’s a large maze-like garden in the back with outdoor lighting scattered about. I can see the pool from here as well. And then in the distance more rolling hills and some trees.
There’s a separate standing shower on the other end of the bathroom and double sinks, even though I’m sure this entire suite was designed for one person. The toilet is in its own separate contained space with a doorway and a curtain covering it, so as not to disrupt the ambiance of the room.
Cora opens a large cabinet over the sink. “You’ll find your towels and basic toiletries here… shampoo, conditioner, soap. If there is anything specific you require, you can make a list and either I will handle it or I’ll send someone out for it.”
“Am I not allowed to leave the house?” I ask, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
Cora looks at me like I’ve said the most insane thing she’s ever heard, and I know that can’t possibly be true given that she must know the kind of business Aidan runs. I mean, why else does she think he needs so many guards on the house? People with this much security have enemies.
“Of course you’ll be able to leave the house, Mrs. Stryker. I just thought you might not want to be bothered with such mundane shopping.”
I feel my cheeks heat. Does Cora even know my situation? If not, I must sound crazy to her.
“Your makeup and other things you had at the house were packed up earlier today and are in those drawers. You’ll find bubble baths, bath bombs, and bath milks under the sink along with some candles. I’ll help you get out of that dress and then leave you to take a bath.”
It’s clear to me that Cora has her instructions and won’t be deterred from them. I follow her back into the dressing room and take one last look at the Dior gown in the full-length mirror. It’s such a shame for a dress like this to only be worn once. Without the train attached it looks like a formal evening gown, so maybe I’ll have the chance to wear it again.
I turn around and Cora deftly unhooks each of the endless row of silk buttons then carefully unzips the dress. She helps me to step out of it and then hangs it on a padded white satin hanger in the closet.