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Cecily

CHAPTER SIX

I heard the doctor saying he would give me a sleeping pill. If he did, it didn’t help. I spent the night awake trying to come to grips with the fact that it really happened, that it wasn’t a dream.

I came to Manhattan and did the crazy thing—getting in front of Mr. Dionysus’s car. More than that, I got him to get closer to me. In fact, he touched me.

It’s the last thing I remember before passing out. Afterwards, I remember the doctors examining me at the hospital, asking if I was in pain and making me repeat the number of fingers they were holding in front of my face.

Nothing about me feels really hurt, and I’m starting to believe that thing about actually having nine lives.

They took my blood and did imaging tests. I also remember that they put me in some kind of tube to do a CT scan and that I panicked, as I have claustrophobia. Maybe that was why the doctor thought he needed to give me a tranquilizer.

I would like one right now. No, actually, I want a whole bottle because I’m really nervous.

The nurse came in a little while ago to tell me that Mr. Dionysus is coming to visit me.

In all the times I’ve imagined our meeting, it certainly wasn’t dressed in a nightgown that leaves my butt exposed, much less lying in a hospital bed.

I run my hands, wet with cold sweat, across the sheets, telling myself I’m not scared. They couldn’t have noticed that I threw myself in front of the car, could they?

No, Cici, they don’t know anything.

So why, when the doctor came to examine me this morning, did he say that even though I was fine, I would have to wait for Mr. Kostanidis to come see me?

That’s exactly what I wanted: to find a way to get his attention so we could talk. Of course, I never thought about having to try to kill myself outright, but I didn’t see any other way.

I’ll never be able to get him to listen to me.

Oh, God, it’s not going to work.

Calm down. Don’t be afraid. Even if he discovers that you threw yourself in front of the car, he’s not going to kill you. After all, he’s a civilized man with a lot to lose.

So why does he wanna see me?

Jesus, I’m going to be sick. Anxiety is driving me crazy.

“May I come in?” a man asks as he turns the door handle without letting me see him yet.

I breathe, immediately relieved. It’s not the powerful Greek. The voice that just spoke to me, in addition to the tone seeming to belong to someone older, sounds insecure. I could bet my life that there isn’t a bone in Dionysus Kostanidis’ body that isn’t self-confident, so he’s not the one who’s here.

“Maybe. Yes. Who is it?”

A man appears in my field of vision. He must be around sixty years old, and his face, despite looking friendly, shows apprehension. “My name is Anderson Colt, Miss Bradley, and I’m Mr. Dionysus Kostanidis’ driver.”

“Good morning. How do you know my name?” I ask, nervous, although I’m sure that even though they know it, they’ll never find out who I really am.

“The hospital records. They had to search for it because Mr. Kostanidis wanted to ensure that you had everything you needed.” He pauses and looks even more anxious than me. “I came to apologize, Miss Bradley.”

“You can call me Cecily, Mr. Colt.”

“Not Harper?”

“No. I hate that name. My stepmother chose it. It was her grandmother’s name, whom I never met.”

He looks at me, confused, and I know why: how could my stepmother have given me a name?

“My mother died during labor and my father didn’t know what to do with a baby, so just fifteen days later, he was already living with a woman.”

He looks shocked, but like the polite man I assume he is, he doesn’t say anything.

“But no one calls me that,” I continue, pretending I don’t notice how disconcerted he is. What man would bring another woman into the house just two weeks after losing his wife? The answer is simple: one who had a lover. I push away sad thoughts because more than ever, I need to be strong. “Anyway, to everyone, I’m Cici.”

He nods in agreement, then clears his throat. “I came to ask for forgiveness. I couldn’t sleep at night imagining you injured and alone in the hospital.”

For the first time, I understand the consequences of what I did, and the remorse hits me so hard that I feel a knot in my stomach. “I got distracted,” I say quickly. “It’s my biggest flaw.”

That part is not a lie. I always daydream, although, in this specific case, it was on purpose. An act of pure desperation.

“Are you sure?” he asks, already looking a little more relieved.

“Yes, I am, Mr. Colt. I’m from Kansas, from a town of just five thousand people. There is no traffic, and we practically only have one street, the main one. I get a little lost in Manhattan.”

That’s also true. New York as a whole is scary as hell. As for the rest, when I have to explain why I’m here, it’ll basically be one big act.

I’m not proud of deceiving him, but there is no other way. The mighty Greek and I live in different galaxies, and if I hadn’t done what I did, I would never have been able to get close to him.

“I want to ask you a question, but let me know if I’m being indiscreet, as that’s not my intention. I only want to help you because I feel responsible for you...”

Before he finishes speaking, his phone rings, and with a wave of his hand, he asks me to excuse him so he can answer it.

I nod, and he moves away from my bed but doesn’t leave the room. “Yes, Mrs. Nuttle, I already heard that the night nanny will no longer be working there. I’m sure Mr. Kostanidis is arranging someone to take her place.”

The woman seems to be talking nonstop, because he holds the phone away from his ear and his features now show impatience.

“Yes, he already knows that you can’t work two shifts every day. We’ll find a way. Wait for our boss to get in touch,” he finishes, apparently allowing no more room for the woman to continue complaining. Then he ends the call. “I’m sorry about that,” he says.

I’m looking out the window, though, pretending I wasn’t listening to the conversation. Only when he calls me by my name do I look back at him with a smile, when in fact I’m close to vomiting from nervousness.

Nanny .

They need a babysitter, and now I know what to do.

“As I was saying, you said you come from a small town in Kansas and that New York scares you. You look very young too.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“You’re practically a child. Do you want some advice, kid? Go back to your town. Big cities can swallow you in the blink of an eye.”

“There’s nothing I’d like more, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I promised someone that I would try my luck in a big city, and I intend to keep my promise.”

I’m only partially lying. That was the original promise, before the tragedy happened. Now, I’ll remain here because I need to keep my word.

“Is it working? From what I saw, you were carrying a suitcase with you.”

I think about the hellish days I’ve been through since I arrived and sigh, discouraged. “It isn’t, but I don’t intend to give up.” It’s a lie, because in fact I was close to giving up. “I’m looking for a job.”

This time when my eyes fill with tears, it’s not an act, it’s anguish that nothing has worked since I set foot in New York, starting with my stupid aivety in believing that I could just approach the Greek and tell my story and everything would be fine.

“What kind of job?”

I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. I will need to be the best actress in the world. “Nanny. I read in a report that New York is one of the states that pays the best per hour. I love children, and I have taken care of many in my city. That would be the perfect job for me.”

For a moment, he looks at me with such a stern expression that I almost shift in the bed, in agony at the thought that I might have ruined everything.

Gosh, did I get ahead of myself?

“Children of what age?” he asks, and my heart starts beating again.

“Babies, basically, or up to three years old I can handle,” I say, forcing a smile.