CHAPTER 20
Luna
I adjust my high ponytail, my soft, cleavage-showing beige lightweight sweater and bootcut dark blue jeans one last time in the mirror.
The jeans hug what butt I have and my cute hiker boots peep out of the bottom.
I’m dressed for exploring, with a little extra mascara, ready to face whatever I’ll find in this weird frat-asylum-mob-probably-haunted-house.
I nod at my reflection before embarking out into the crazy house.
Alright, let’s see if I can remember the way to…hooooooly mother of God himself that smells good. Marlon, buddy, hang in there another minute.
I take the grand stairs quickly to the foyer, passing what seems like a million men.
Similar men. Like…mini Quinns. Well, hell, any man is miniature next to him.
But they are all muscular, all wear the same simple, dark, combat clothes, leather jackets or vests, knives and guns holstered all over.
Some have red hair instead of black but even the cut seems the same.
And they’re young. My age, some teenagers, maybe a few in their thirties but no one much older than that. Odd.
I make my best guesses on the first floor, weaving through a big living room, trying to follow the smell and sounds of a kitchen or dining room.
Oh.
Okay.
Dining hall. Freaking cafeteria. That’s what this is.
More dark wood and old fashioned paint line the walls.
Antique wood chairs fill the space and big oil paintings in ancient-looking frames fill the walls.
Ugly chandeliers hang from the ceiling which is up a couple stories.
There’s a staircase off to one side and a landing, almost like a balcony overlooking the room.
At this point I’m kind of surprised this place has electricity, it looks so archaic.
A few men look up from the many long wooden tables as I enter.
They keep their expressions remarkably neutral.
Surely, they’re curious. They must’ve heard things about me, the crazy Italian princess and her dog in a purse.
I was even prepared for some hostility. But everyone looks away and carries on conversation like I’m not standing here, stunned and frozen in the wide door frame.
Well, suits me just fine. Easier to snoop if no one pays me any attention.
It’s noisy in here and even noisier, I notice, through the swinging doors at the far end. The men keep walking through with their plates of food.
Food that smells divine.
I walk to what must be the kitchen like I know what I’m doing.
Aha. So here are the women. Of course.
Not that old fashioned, my ass.
The kitchen is large but has a homey feel, even though everything is industrial-sized.
The couple women closest to me are stout, older, red-haired, motherly types.
Have I walked into a Disney movie? Because this is so cliche.
There’s a big old man too, at one of the stoves.
Off to the side is an eat-in table covered with big dishes, where men in a line are spooning up food.
“Ay! She’s up! Sheila, the missus is up!” Says the oldest woman with a kind, ruddy face and bright blue eyes. I offer a polite grin and look around for another old lady to come greet me.
“Mrs.Quinn!” Someone says to my right.
Oh, hell, that’s me. I’m Mrs. Quinn.
I turn and say, “Oh, Luna, please,” to a woman that can’t possibly be Sheila. She’s about my age, drop dead gorgeous with naturally white-strawberry-blonde hair, huge blue eyes, a perfectly proportioned face and banging curves underneath her apron.
“Luna. I’m Sheila, I’m supposed to show you around today.” She says, looking nervous.
“Oh, right, well, you don’t have to do that. I can make myself at home.” My response makes her frown. I smile and look at the food. “I’d love some breakfast, though, it smells amazing in here.”
“It’s a deep dish quiche, I thought we should do something special for your first day, so it’s Quinn’s favorite!” Her whole face lights up when she says my husband’s name. All her reservations about me disappear and her eyes get all dewy.
Ok, so, they’re definitely fucking.
Noted.
Her dreamy expression fades as I stand there studying her, so she motions for me to follow her, “Well, as you see, it’s serve yourself for breakfast. Lunch too.
We start breakfast at about seven and it’s gone when it’s gone so you’re lucky you didn’t miss it today.
” She hands me a plate at the front, ignoring the couple of men in line, and points to the dishes, naming off some ingredients.
I just get a scoop from the dish that looks the cheesiest and move along.
“There’s always hot tea, coffee in here all day long and night too, usually. And the fridges have cold brews, too, if you want?”
“Hot’s fine, thanks.” I grab a coffee mug with my free hand and follow her to a side bar with cream and sugar and stuff. Like a damn hotel.
“Lunch is served right after breakfast so if you sleep late there will always be something, we just take a breather in the afternoon before cooking the big dinner. Almost everyone eats at the same time so it takes a little more prep.” She’s back to being nervous.
I guess it makes sense for the boss’s mistress to be nervous around the boss’s wife.
“How many people live here, exactly?”
She leads me to another side table with fruits and sides. “About fifty or so in the house, then there are more in the guest houses, guard houses.”
“But what about the rest of the men?”
This can’t be Quinn’s whole crew, can it?
“Oh, well, um, all the capos who are married with families have their own houses nearby, and a lot of the older capos prefer to live in the city. But many come here for meals and meetings. It is a long day and a lot to cook, yes, but at least the cooks don’t have to do any clean up so they’re done for the day around five,” she explains to me.
I wonder why, since I don’t give a rat’s tiny ass about the kitchen schedule. I just nod.
“Before you eat I’ll just show you the master calendar, make sure you approve.
” She leads me around a corner to a back hallway.
There are more fridges, freezers and a built-in desk with a bulletin board that must be as old as the house.
It holds a big calendar with about a million little notes, names, and scribbles I don’t understand.
“I’m in charge of the house but you are in charge of me, of course, so if you want anything changed just let me know. ”
“Oh, um…”
“See there’s the cleaning teams, with special teams for the music room and library, and kitchen duty specifically.
Laundry too. There’s the maintenance inside, a lot of that is the intercom, the gaming tables, anytime little things break here and there, then grounds maintenance, pools and fountains and lights, then the actual gardening team if you’ve got a green thumb. ”
If I’ve got a what now?
She goes on, “There are the cooks, I’m sure you have some great Italian recipes, or there’s also an errands team that goes into the city and gets the groceries, stocks up on paper goods. Not sure about that since you’d have to take so many guards with you, might be impractical.”
“Um, I don't know…” I start, unsure of what she’s trying to tell or ask me.
“Oh, don’t worry, of course, a lot of newcomers just rotate through at first, you can do that.
Some rotate forever because they like the variety.
I also saw your instruments, if you are more creative and good with your hands maybe you’d want to do some decorating or upholstery work.
We do have a sewing team but it’s mostly me and Shae, my mom, you just met her back there. We put buttons back on as needed.”
She chuckles at that. Like there’s something funny about sewing. Like any of the words coming out of her very pretty mouth make any fucking sense.
“I don’t really sew…”
“Well, like I said, you can rotate at first. Quinn said you wanted to jump right in today so I can start you on—”
“Outside!” I blurt, because the walls of this narrow hallway are closing in on me. If there’s one thing I can’t face today it’s scrubbing toilets or trying to cook. I mean what the hell? I can’t clean or cook to save my life!
Quinn must be messing with me. Has to be.
“Sure, you can go see Ollie, he’ll put you to work in the gardens. Or maybe the green house! So many lovely flowers in there,” she says, genuinely wistful about gardening.
What. The hell.
“Great.” I say, my voice sounding flat compared to hers.
Everything about me is a little dull next to her.
She’s like a beacon. I bet she lights Quinn right up when she orgasms. I didn’t peg him to want the big-eyed innocent type but the evidence on her adoring face in front of me is hard to deny.
She’s the bright freaking sunshine to his all-black everything.
I wonder if I should change my outfit. I look at her perky ass in front of me—in an honest-to-God milkmaid dress?!— and decide absolutely, yes, I should. I also wonder if Sunny here has been in my room, in my shower, in Quinn’s bed in my room. I hope not.
Wait, why do I care?
I don’t. I just need to focus on emulating her tactics to get my leverage.
“Ollie’s got a huge wide brim hat on, you’ll find him.
” I just nod as she rambles on. “I’ve got to start some bedding, that’s my laundry shift today, but just shout on any intercom if you need anything and I’ll come to you?
” She asks, looking almost scared. I smile and nod hoping she will stop talking and walk away.
She does.
I’m not hungry anymore but I take a huge bite of the quiche before depositing my dish in the dirty pile. It tastes like heaven in my mouth and for some reason that pisses me off. It’s Quinn’s favorite! I roll my eyes, at the girl, and then at myself for being mad at her for no good reason.
Time to find the nearest exit.