Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
ROISIN
A s soon as Dominic leaves, I start feeling paranoid. Have I been playing the television too loud? Are there footsteps in the corridor? Is the smell of the meal Dominic brought me going to permeate the room?
The thought of that alone has me hurrying to eat it, just in case. Then I dart into the bathroom and wash everything, using a hand towel to dry it all before stashing the tray, plate, and cutlery in the cupboard under the sink before using a room spray I find there to disguise any scent of food.
After that, I can’t stop myself. I make the bed, push the few clothes I have underneath the dresser, rather than inside, and fold the towels — even the damp one — shelving them like they were when the room was empty and awaiting a new employee.
Realizing the shower and sink are wet and obviously used, I dig around in the under-sink cupboard again, until I find a squeegee and one of those sponge squares that sucks up water.
When everything around me is pristine and sterile, I look around for hiding places. Behind the floor-length curtains? Too risky. The wardrobe? Too obvious. Surely, that’s the first place anyone would check. Behind the bathroom door? I decide that’s a possibility.
I’m still wondering how much more than a cursory glance Vito’s goons would give a seemingly empty room when I hear voices in the hallway.
At first, I think my paranoia is playing tricks on me, but then I hear the unmistakable sound of keys jangling and a door being opened.
“This one’s clear,” a voice claims as the sounds get closer. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize the voices are moving methodically down the hall, checking each room. I have seconds to decide what to do. The bathroom door suddenly seems like a terrible hiding spot — too exposed if they do a thorough search.
In a moment of desperate inspiration, I drop to the floor and wriggle under the bed. It's a tight fit, but I manage to squeeze myself in, pressing my body flat against the carpet, as close to the far wall as I can possibly get. Dust tickles my nose, and I fight the urge to sneeze.
The voices are right outside the door now. I hold my breath as I hear the key turn in the lock. The door swings open with a creak.
"Looks empty," a gruff voice says.
"Check it anyway," another voice orders. "Boss says to be thorough."
Heavy footsteps enter the room. I can see two pairs of polished black shoes from my vantage point under the bed. They move around, opening drawers and the wardrobe doors.
"Bathroom's clear," one of them calls out after a moment.
I'm trembling now, praying they won't think to look under the bed. The feet come closer and pause right next to me.
My heart nearly stops as one of the men kneels down. I can see his hand gripping the edge of the bed frame, and I'm certain he's about to lift the bed skirt and find me. But then his partner calls out from across the room.
"Hey, come look at this."
The hand withdraws, and the feet move away. I hear them muttering to each other but can't make out the words. There's a rustling sound, like paper being handled.
"Could be nothing," one of them says.
"Better take it to the boss, just in case," the other replies.
More footsteps, then the door closes. The key turns in the lock again. I stay frozen in place, hardly daring to breathe, straining my ears for any sound of their return. Minutes tick by in agonizing slowness.
Finally, when I'm sure they're gone, I cautiously slide out from under the bed. My muscles are stiff and sore from being held so tense. I brush the dust from my clothes and hair, then creep to the door and press my ear against it. Silence.
What did they find? My mind races, trying to think of anything I might have left out that could give me away. But I'm certain I was thorough in my cleaning. Then, a chilling thought strikes me — the book I was reading… What did I do with it?
I do another frantic sweep of the room, checking every surface, every drawer. Nothing seems out of place, but I can’t find the paperback anywhere. My panic is rising again. If they found something suspicious enough to take to their boss, how long before they come back for a more detailed search?
I need to get out of here. Now.
But where can I go? I think they left the door open in their rush, but the hallway is too risky–they could return at any moment. and I have no idea where to go. Plus, I’d be on CCTV. Dominic managed to wipe it all the other times he moved me.
My gaze falls on the window. We're only on the second floor. It's a drop, but not an impossible one. I already know it’s locked. It’s the first thing I checked when Dominic left me here. Desperately, I look around for something to break the glass, settling on the heavy base of the bedside lamp.
Just as I'm about to smash the window, I hear voices in the hall again. They're coming back.
Panicking, I replace the lamp, but I don’t have time to dive back under the bed, as the keys are already rattling in the door.
I dive into the bathroom, praying they won't check it again this time. Then I hold my breath and clench my teeth together to stop them from chattering. My heart is pounding so heavily, I’m sure it might be heard.
As I press myself against the wall behind the door, I can hear the men entering the room again. Their footsteps are heavier this time, more purposeful.
"Check under the bed," a voice orders, and I can hear the frame being dragged away from the wall and the mattress being flipped.
“Nope, nothing here. I told you there wasn’t room for anyone to hide under there. The book must have been left by whoever stayed here last.”
"Search everything again, anyway" a new voice commands. It's deeper, more authoritative than the others. "Tear the place apart if you have to."
I screw my eyes shut. This is it. I’m about to be discovered.
“Is there a problem here?”
My eyes fly open as a stern woman’s voice sounds within the room.
“What’s it to you, Margarita?” One of the men asks.
There’s a harrumphing noise. “Don’t take that tone with me, Eduardo,” the woman says. “Tina here is supposed to be moving into this room. It’s her new quarters.”
“Come here girl, let me look at you.”
There’s a shocked squeak, and a scuffle, like someone’s just been manhandled.
“That’s not her,” another voice says. “Girl we’re looking for is a redhead with pale skin, not an Italian.”
“Eduardo!” The woman’s voice is sharp. “Quit scaring off my staff before they even start. And look at the state of this room. Now, I’ll need to find new bedding and everything before she moves in. Come on Tina, I’ll show you where the linens are kept.”
The voices — all of them, thankfully — move away, but I remain frozen behind the bathroom door, hardly daring to breathe. The sounds fade down the hallway, and I hear the door close with a soft click. My legs are shaking so badly I have to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing.
I wait another few minutes, straining my ears for any sign of their return, before I cautiously peek out from behind the bathroom door. The room is a disaster. The mattress is askew, drawers hang open, and the spare bedding that was kept in the wardrobe is strewn across the floor.
What the hell do I do now? Will the women be back to straighten the room? They’ll know who I am since Eduardo described me. I doubt there’s another redhead in this place.
I’m still standing in the bathroom door, dithering, not knowing what to do, when I hear voices again. At least one of them is familiar, this time.
“What’s going on down here?” Dominic asks, an edge to his voice.
I can’t hear the response, it’s too soft, so I’m guessing he’s talking to the women. I still duck out of sight, just in case, but I’m proved right when I hear him say, “Give Tina this room instead, so she can get settled, and I’ll check out the breakages in the other one and alter the paperwork on her file.”
Moments later, he’s here. “Roisin?” he calls in a strained whisper-shout.
I step out from behind the bathroom door, my legs still shaky. "I'm here," I whisper back.
Dominic's eyes widen as he takes in my disheveled appearance and the state of the room. "Christ, what happened?"
"They were checking all the empty rooms," I say, my voice trembling. "I hid under the bed, but they almost found me. If that woman hadn't shown up when she did..."
Dominic runs a hand through his hair, looking agitated, but his words are comforting. “It’ll be okay. I’ll keep Tina registered to this room. No one will question it, so they won’t look here again. But from now on, I’m going to remain here with you all the time.”
I almost wilt with relief, just knowing he’s going to stay close.
He starts moving around the room, straightening things up. "We need to make this place look lived in, but not too much. A few personal touches here and there."
I help him lift the mattress back onto the frame and remake the bed, then I stand and stare at it, wondering if he’s going to stay here overnight. He’s a tall man; the couch will be far too small for him to get a comfortable night’s rest, and I really don’t want him to leave. “Um, tonight… maybe I could take the couch, and you can have the bed. I’d rather not be alone.” My voice trails off into a strained whisper as I wait on tenterhooks for his response.
Dominic pauses in his tidying, his eyes meeting mine. There's a softness there I haven't seen before, mixed with something else I can't quite identify. He clears his throat.
"That won't be necessary," he says gently. "I'll take the couch. I've slept in worse places, believe me."
I nod, both relieved and oddly disappointed. "Thank you," I murmur.
We finish putting the room back in order, working in companionable silence. Dominic leaves briefly, but for me, every second is like a nightmare. He returns with an evening meal for the two of us, and a duffle bag from which he produces a few items he brought back with him — a maid’s uniform, which he hangs on the handle of the wardrobe so it’s in full view, a couple of ornaments, and a photograph of a very Italian-looking couple. He arranges them casually around the room.
As night falls, the tension in my body begins to ease, but my mind is still racing. I perch on the edge of the bed, watching as Dominic makes up the couch with a spare blanket and pillow. We don’t talk much as we both get ready to turn in, but I still feel so much better knowing he’s here. I don’t think I’d even consider sleeping if he weren’t.
The exhaustion of the day catches up with me, and I fall asleep faster than I expected, but it’s a temporary reprieve. My body may have shut down, but it appears my mind has different ideas, and the last thing it wants to do is release me from torment.