Chapter 16
ANDREA
After the meeting in Hudson’s study and our failed outing last night, I haven’t attempted to leave the room again, even though I now have permission to wander. I tested it after breakfast yesterday, and the door is truly unlocked.
Except now there’s a tall, thick-necked guy standing next to the door. My babysitter. It’s like I’ve graduated from being caged in one room to being imprisoned in the entire mansion. I wonder what he’ll do If I make a run for the front door. I don’t want to find out; he’s huge, but he looks fast and like he doesn’t fuck around.
Diane brought my breakfast this morning, as well as lunch. It’s a shame I have no desire to walk about and act like the little lady of the house. I already have no choice but to do as that asshole wants, I don’t need to be chummy with him. It seems like a betrayal of my loyalty to my brother, even though the meat-head didn’t think to extend the same courtesy to me.
What were you thinking, Ezra?
There’s a short knock I’m starting to recognize as Diane’s, and sure enough the door pops open, and she strides in—sans the food tray I was expecting since it’s dinnertime. Oh look, there’s no clock in here, but I’m starting to know when it’s time to eat like a well-trained pet. My hands form fists.
Behind her, Maximus trots in, his huge tongue lolling out and his short stubby tail wagging as much as it can. Despite myself, a grin stretches across my face, and I reach out my hand. “Maximus!”
He lets out a woof and continues trotting to me. I get up from the bed and drop to my knees. He stands on his hind paws and places the front ones on my chest in his excitement, knocking me off balance and flat on my back. I blink at the ceiling in astonishment as the beast starts licking every inch of skin he can find.
Have you ever tried laughing with your mouth closed? Trust me, it’s incredibly hard.
His coarse tongue tickles my neck, sending me into stitches, but I don’t want his tongue to accidentally graze mine since he’s also licking my face. I have to laugh with my lips firmly pressed together.
“Maximus!” Diane calls sharply, snapping her fingers. He steps back, giving me a much needed reprieve, but one paw rests on my hip as I sit up. “I’m so sorry, miss, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say as I lift up my–er–Hudson’s shirt to wipe away Maximus’ drool.
“He somehow knew I was coming up to your room and wouldn’t stop following me no matter how much I shooed him away,” she adds apologetically.
“It’s fine, Diane. Really, I don’t mind. I’ve told you several times to call me Andrea.”
She smiles. “Maximus must like you. It takes him a good deal of time to warm up to new people, but he’s taken to you so quickly.”
“Maximus must be a really good judge of character,” I mock, pleased with the remark. Hearing his name, the mutt gives two barks in rapid succession. “My father always kept cane corsos, so I’m fond of them,” I explain, rubbing his head.
“Maximus is a good dog.” She pauses and continues, “Would you like to come have your meal in the dining room? You must be tired of being holed up in this room.”
As a matter of fact, I am. I’m not one to stay in one spot for too long. Then again, I’m hesitant to interact with Hudson. I will have no choice but to do that in public; but after last night’s interaction, I don’t trust myself alone with him.
“Is he going to be there?” As long as Hudson won’t be there, I see no harm in socializing. And who knows, maybe Diane, and whoever else I run into might have their phone lying around, so I can send a text to check in with Dad. The longer I stay here, the more worried I get. They’ve definitely found out that I’m no longer in town.
It’s been five days now, I think, or has it been six? It’s hard to keep track when time seems to drag. From the knowing look in Diane’s eyes, I can see that I don’t have to explain the he I’m asking about.
“No ma’am, Massimo left early to deal with an emergency at work.”
I have to swallow my tongue to stop myself from asking if the emergency at work involves something illegal, but, of course, it does. He’s a freaking mafia boss! I think it’s safe to assume that all his businesses are illegal.
“Good,” I answer, getting up from the floor. I dust my ass as I follow Diane out of the room, even though the floor is squeaky clean.
Despite the heat of the day, it grows cool at night; but the marble floor is warm against my bare feet as we walk the familiar path down the hallway to the wide winding staircase that leads down to the foyer where I first met Maximus. I spare a minute wondering just how much Hudson spends on heating. Whatever. People like him, with houses like this, don’t trouble themselves with things as trivial as utility bills.
“This way,” Diane says and gestures to a heavy door to her left. She murmurs a soft Italian command to Maximus, who’s been quietly following us. He whines pitifully, pushing his head against her hip. She repeats her command, go outside, and he does.
“You didn’t have to send him off on my account,” I tell her, thinking she’s worried about me.
“He’s a guard dog. I have already over-indulged him by letting him stay inside for so long and this late,” she explains.
I watch, a little sad as Maximus pushes the slightly ajar door with his head and disappears behind it. I bite my tongue as she opens the door that leads to a large dining ballroom akin to a cabaret.
“Wow,” I murmur, slowing my stride to take in the airy room. The curtains are firmly drawn right now, but I can imagine just how magnificent it is during the day with sunlight streaming in. Right now, it looks like something out of a fairytale with a silver-laden chandelier dropping from the high ceiling.
A large empty spot I assume is the dance floor. Tucked in a corner is a red baby grand piano. Circling the room are high back dining chairs with dining tables in arrangements of twos, threes, and six.
“Charming, isn’t it?” Diane asks with a proud smile.
“Do you throw parties often?” I ask and gesture for her to continue walking.
“Not really. The room only gets used when all the men come to see Massimo, and I would hardly call that a party.” She opens a door that blends in with the wallpaper. I didn’t notice it until we’re standing right in front of it.
“What would you call it then?” I ask as we walk through the door into what would be my dream kitchen if I cooked. With the size of the rooms and the house itself, I was expecting a gigantic industrial grade kitchen, but that’s not what this is at all. Sure it’s big, but somehow despite the size, it seems cozy.
The same black and white theme of the house has been used here, and I inwardly roll my eyes. The sprawling island that separates the countertops and the cooking area from the rest of the kitchen has been fashioned from white marble that gleams under the soft lighting of gold wall lamps. The countertops are black refurbished wood that complements in with the black smart fridge and six burner oven. My eyes immediately locate a black coffee machine placed against the wall next to an electric kettle. Yes.
A door swings open from across the kitchen; a shaggy haired man walks in with a few items in his hands. He pauses when he sees me, his eyes going wide in surprise.
“Wait, you’re the cook–” I stammer as I try to remember his name. Hudson definitely mentioned it yesterday, “Walker!” I say triumphantly.
“Chef,” he corrects testily as he dumps the containers on the empty countertop.
“Of course, and a wonderful chef from what I’ve seen,” I indulge him to see his cheeks glow pink at the compliment; he dips his head in thanks.
I frown as I assess him. He looks young-ish…around 25, 26 maybe? The hairstyle might make him look younger than his age, though. And his eyes…in this lighting, the color seems to change from brown to green to gold. Aha, they are hazel.
“Where did you learn to cook?” I flash him a warm smile. “I’ve relished every single meal you’ve sent up.” Maybe a little too much, I think, and pat my stomach. I’m not inclined to enjoy such indulgent food on a regular basis. I’m more of a coffee until four pm and then salads and fruit until I close the bar at midnight kind of girl.
He nods sagely, but I can see that the compliment smoothed the feathers I had ruffled.
“Everything I know, I learned in prison, ma’am. And every meal I make is a masterpiece.” I see that he’s humble too. “Nice to meet you, my lady. I’m Walker Parker.” He stretches his hand out as he walks toward me.
I pause momentarily, wondering if he’s pulling my leg. Walker Parker?
“Don’t even ask. My parents obviously hated me,” he grumbles as he comes to a stop in front of me.
“Nice to meet you, Walker. I’m Andrea.” I omit my last name. His eyes search mine, obviously not missing the omission, but he shakes my hand without hesitation.
“You’re here for dinner? I’ll bring it to the dining room. Diane,” he orders and nods at her.
“Actually.” I raise a hand. “If you don’t mind, can I just eat here?” I move to the island and pull out one of the stools. “I’ve been eating alone in my room for days. I could use some company.”
Walker and Diane exchange a wary glance. Walker sighs, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea…if Massimo finds out–”
“I’ll deal with Massimo, but I don’t want to eat alone tonight.”
“I’d like to see just how you would deal with me.” The deep voice coming from behind me makes me go stiff. Walker and Diane also freeze. Slowly, I relax. His footsteps thud, but I don’t turn around.
He circles the island to stand directly in front of me. There’s a red splotch on the collar of the white shirt he’s wearing under his fitted suit jacket. Blood?
“She’ll eat in the dining room with me.” He is addressing the room, his gaze not releasing mine. “Won’t you, pet?”
Fucker.