Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
My housekeeper has just been there.
I know.
Perhaps the plan of banishing Sabella will work in my favor. Maybe she’ll break quicker after a few weeks of living like a hermit. I’m not even sure she’ll last days before admitting what she and Lavigne are scheming.
Heidi marches to my desk.
I take my frustration out on her. “What is it?”
Her voice is uncharacteristically stern. “Angelo.”
I look up from my laptop, caught off guard by a tone she never uses with me.
“There’s a problem at the new house,” she continues.
Every muscle in my body tenses. “What problem?”
Propping her hands on her hips, she says, “Lice.”
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me. Sabella caught lice. You can fire me for speaking her name, but you must do something about it.”
Motherfucker. “I thought Toma took care of cleaning the place.”
“The men swept it, but it needs a good scrubbing and a proper fumigation.”
Leaning back in my chair, I steeple my fingers. “Consider it done. In the meantime, you better bring her back here.”
Her blue eyes light up with approval. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll send someone to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy in Bastia for a treatment.”
“I already took care of that.”
“Good. Do you want one of the men to drive you?” I add with a wry smile, “I would’ve gone myself, but I have important business to finish before tonight’s dinner.”
The truth is that I could’ve instructed Gianni to bring Sabella. He’s already there anyway. But I don’t want her to know I’m having her watched. If she’s going to step out of line, it’s better that I give her some rope.
Heidi lifts her chin. “I’m a good driver. I’ll be fine.”
That statement pierces something in my chest. My memory drifts to my mother. I remind myself with effort that this isn’t that day, that since the accident we have the cars checked on a daily basis. “Call me if there’s a problem.”
“What about your guests?”
“They’re not due for another forty-five minutes. The dinner doesn’t have to be served until you return.”
She heads for the door with a bob of her head.
“And Heidi?”
She turns, waiting.
“Lock her in her room. She’s not to wander around in the house, especially not when my guests are here.”
The lines around her mouth tighten, but she doesn’t contest the order.
When she’s gone, I dial Toma.
“Angelo,” he says, sounding uncertain.
His father no doubt brought him up to speed with how our morning meeting panned out. He must hate being on babysitting duty. “I thought you took care of the new house.”
“I did. I mean the guys cleaned up and cleared out the rubble.”
“Didn’t you get a company to do a deep cleaning?”
“Um, no. What would’ve been the point? It wasn’t as if anyone was going to live—” He bites off the rest of the remark. I imagine he belatedly realizes that someone is indeed living there again, someone he’s supposed to keep an eye on.
“Who’s on duty there?”
A small pause passes before he answers. “Gianni.” He clears his throat. “I think.”
I clench the phone in my palm. “You fucking think?”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I mean I know.”
He’s young, but let’s face it. Toma isn’t the brightest light on the Christmas tree. That’s why I need an heir to take over the business. I can’t rely on my cousins to do a good job. We worked too hard to get to the top. There’s no way I’m letting the business dwindle because my cousins don’t have enough brain cells. No. Sabella may not be a wife to me other than in name, but she will do her duty by giving me an heir.
“Do you want me to arrange something?” he asks in a too-thin voice. “A cleaning service?”
“No,” I bite out. “I’ll do it myself.”
Ending the call, I throw the phone on the desk and massage my temples where a headache is building. If I ever lay my hands on that old man who calls himself my grandfather again, I’ll strangle him.
Prioritizing the task over the business that needs my attention, I summon a fumigation and cleaning service. Then I email my personal shopper with instructions to refurbish the place. I wasn’t planning on making it comfortable for Sabella, but my impulsive decision is driven by guilt, the same age-old guilt about who I am and where I come from.
Little over fifty minutes later, a car engine sounds outside. I can’t deny the spark of anticipation that zings through my gut as I get up and exit my study. Just as I walk down the hallway, the front door opens. Heidi glances at me with a stony expression when I stop a few paces away. She pushes the door wide open and bends to pick up a large vacuum-sealed storage bag that lies at her feet. The contaminated linen, I’m guessing.
“You go right upstairs,” she says, her warm tone insinuating she’s not addressing me. “I’ll take care of this.”