Page 25

TWENTY-FOUR

NATALIE

Mr. Warden walks in, causing Rosalie to stiffen, as if she has just been caught stealing.

In addition to his never-changing suit and tie, Julien has an earpiece in his ear and a little push-to-talk mic clipped to the edge of his lapel. They are all serious about this party.

His eyes slowly rake over me, then Rosalie. “How is everything?”

Shouldn’t he be concerned about other things? Like the catering company? The terrace setup? Security?

“What is the house manager’s job exactly?” I ask, diverting his attention from Rosalie, who is as quiet as a mouse, avoiding looking at him, which weirds me out. Is she afraid of him?

Julien tilts his head to one side, his expression unchanged as he studies me. “Making sure you do yours.”

“I am, boss.” I give him a military salute.

Rosalie snorts, glancing between us.

Julien stares at me with a straight face, not a muscle moving. He’s immune to my jokes.

Mimicking him, I make a serious face and study him in turn. “This must be awful. I can’t believe they are doing this to you,” I say in a grave voice.

His eyes narrow just slightly. “Excuse me?”

For a moment, I tease him with silence. “This part of your job contract. It’s cruel.”

There’s confusion in his hazel eyes that soften just a tiny bit. “Which part?”

I nod in pretend concern. “Not allowed to smile on your job.”

His expression freezes just as Rosalie bursts out laughing.

I can’t help grinning, holding his gaze that changes with realization. He sucks in his cheeks.

“It must be pure torture,” I taunt him.

“She got you, Julien. Got you good.” Rosalie cackles with laughter, and I swear, Julien’s jaw tics as he tries really hard to hold his composure.

“Don’t you have something to do?” he says in a deliberately cold voice as he fixes his suit jacket, already on the way out.

“Sir, yes, sir,” I shout at his back and wink at Rosalie.

“He needs that,” Rosalie says quietly. She stands at the counter, aimlessly rubbing her fingertips, eyes cast down, all serious again.

“Needs what?”

“Someone to make him smile.”

I snort. “No kidding.”

“He’s having a rough time.”

“Rough time how?”

She ignores me.

“Okay, Rosalie, you can’t do that.” I set my hands on my hips and duck my head, trying to get her to look at me. “Rough how? Because I can say that about dozens of people.” Including Cara. Rough doesn’t even come close to describing her state right now. Clearly, Darla is way beyond that.

Rosalie sighs heavily. “He is dedicated to this job, but he is having a hard time with it.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“He’s good at keeping himself to himself. But Mr. Rosenberg… Well, let’s just say he is not exactly a model gentleman when it comes to people. Women, especially.”

And here comes the first proof of what I think the true Rosenberg is. I step closer to Rosalie. “I heard a story or two,” I lie.

Her eyes dart at me. “From who?”

“Nick.”

She frowns. “Really? What did you hear?”

I can’t tell her about Cara, and she won’t tell me about the former housekeeper, so I have to lie in order to get her to talk.

“Let’s just say, I heard that women who get close to Rosenberg end up not in a good way.”

I hold her stare until she finally breaks off. “Nick told you that?”

I don’t answer so as not to lie again. I want her to talk.

She purses her lips. “I suggest you stay away from Rosenberg.”

“Is that what happened to the previous housekeeper? She didn’t?”

Rosalie’s expression hardens, but she doesn’t reply.

“What about Nick?” I press on. “Should I stay away from him too?”

I can tell she doesn’t like what I’m saying.

“How about all the other men in this household? Julien? Walter? Sagar?”

She shakes her head, closing her eyes. “You are trouble, aren’t you?”

Her hand goes to her chest, and she rubs the pendant hanging off her neck as if in meditation. Her eyes are closed, her lips slightly trembling.

I didn’t mean to make her upset or angry. I probably do come across as snappy—courtesy of my previous jobs. Rosalie seems like a nice person, maybe the only one here who somewhat cares about me.

“Who’s the pendant from?” I ask softly, trying to divert the topic.

Her eyes are still closed. I think she’s having a moment.

“My husband,” she replies in a whisper.

“You love him?”

Her eyes snap open, and I see them glistening with tears. “He’s dead.”

I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Rosalie. I didn’t mean to be a pain in the butt. Just… Nick did me a big favor by helping me out with this job. I’m grateful.” I step up to her and give her a big hug. She doesn’t hug me back, but that doesn’t matter. “And I like working with you. I’ll be on my best behavior, I swear.”

“That’s what Darla said,” Rosalie murmurs barely audibly, but I hear it. “Before she was poisoned,” Rosalie adds, making my blood run cold.