Chapter 1 #2
The chirping birds.
If I weren’t wearing sports shoes, a T-shirt, and a pair of stonewashed jeans, I could swear I just stepped onto a movie set with the camera crew on a break.
A woman wearing a simple yet finely tailored dress exits the house and walks in my direction, followed by another staff member.
“You must be Lila Skye,” the woman says, stretching her hand out. “I’m Livia, the housekeeper. Justin will take your luggage upstairs.”
“There’s no need to,” I say, embarrassed.
For one, all my belongings are crammed in a couple of travel bags and a backpack.
And secondly, even though we lived quite nicely in the past, my family and I have never had staff in the house.
Henrietta lived with my father in Manhattan, while I had my own place in Brooklyn, which worked fine for me. It still does when I go to school.
Henrietta wasn’t fond of having the help live in the house, so there must be different rules in her new husband’s house.
“Please,” the woman says with a smile. “I know you’ll only stay with us for a little while, but there’s no reason not to have a wonderful stay.”
With that, Justin picks up my things and walks ahead of us, while I follow Livia into the house.
If summer had a house, this would be it.
Light drips like golden honey over a masterfully designed stairwell and spills over the cream walls, marble floors, and fresh flowers overflowing in hand-painted vases.
The house is quiet, although we’re not alone.
As I look across the foyer and move my eyes over the blooming shrubs, rich vegetation, and oval pool outside the French doors, I notice several staff members working outside.
“How was your trip?” Livia asks, and we start up a conversation, although my focus is still on the house.
Who is the man Henrietta married?
He is about her age, therefore younger than my father. Early thirties, I would guess. What compelled him to marry this woman?
Keira and I can’t even get laid, and Henrietta can’t date a guy without getting married.
She’s built a little nest egg after collecting all those dead husbands and billionaire boyfriends, and he’s not penniless either.
Money likes money, my mother used to say.
I can’t imagine true love united these two.
Besides, who’s looking for authentic love these days?
With that thought in mind, I follow her into a large room with a wide bed adorned with white and blue pillows.
A lavish terrace with a wicker garden set and a white umbrella stretches across the stunning view of the pool and the backyard.
Livia shows me the things around the room, and I nod along, my mind still focused on this story.
I’ve always considered myself hard to impress.
Even when my parents made a lot of money, I didn’t like to splurge––I didn’t know how to, nor did I want to––or spend a lot of time on decorating a particular room, but this is nice.
Someone has obviously paid attention to the interior and exterior of this house, and if it wasn’t Henrietta, it must’ve been her new man.
What was his name again?
Uh… Surreptitiously, I pull out my phone and check the wedding invitation on the screen.
I barely suppress a smile. I’m bad. So, so bad. Really bad.
Oh. Damon.
His name is Damon. Damon West.
Too bad I haven’t spent some time looking him up.
Hmm… I always thought he was a younger version of my father.
All right looking, maybe not bald like my father, or wearing glasses. Selling something for a living.
I was always under the impression that this man had a business. Never knew exactly what kind of business he was running. Never cared. She is so flashy; I wrongly believed she’d pick someone gullible like my father.
I should’ve done my homework and learned more about him.
“All right,” Livia says once she finishes showing me the bathroom and the walk-in closet where a couch could easily fit against the wall.
“Dinner is served at seven. We serve food till eight o’clock.
There’s no staff in the house after that.
If you need food, you go to the kitchen.
There’s always something in the refrigerator.
You can also order, but make sure you instruct the delivery person to leave the food at the gate.
Damon doesn’t like strangers on the property, especially at night, unless they’ve been cleared by him, which is not possible in this case.
Henrietta rarely has dinner at the house, and Damon eats at the club most of the time. ”
“The club?”
She smiles.
“Yes. He owns a club.”
“That means… it will only be me?”
“Probably. We set the dinner table per his instructions. Sometimes, he arrives late at night with his men, and they always like to have some food in the refrigerator or the oven.”
“So I’ll have dinner by myself?” I ask, incredulous, a bit amused by their arrangement.
“Precisely. I’m sure you’ll have an enjoyable experience.”
“Do we eat inside?”
She nods in response.
“We can also set the table on the terrace if you’d like.”
“No, no… It’s all right. But I can go outside, sit by the pool, and have a glass of wine if I want to, right?”
A grin tilts her lips.
“Of course. You can do whatever you want. This is your home, too. Anything you need, please let me know now or in the morning. In case of an emergency, feel free to call me.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” I murmur just as she calls my phone, so I can add her number to my contacts list.
“Your, um, stepmother gave me your phone number,” she says in response to my surprise. “I hope it’s not a problem.”
“No, it’s not,” I say, saving her number on my phone.
“Okay. We’re all set then,” she says, relieved. “I hope you’ll have a wonderful summer.”
“I hope that, too.”
A pinch of uncertainty tarnishes my answer.
“Oh, one more thing,” she says, about to make a beeline to the door.
“The gate code changes every night at ten sharp after the staff leaves. You can get the new code from me, or Mr. West, if I’m not available.”
My mouth softens.
“What about Henrietta?”
“She only answers her phone if Damon calls her, and he doesn’t need the new code. She can open the gate with her key fob, just like him.”
How nice of them.
“So this is a detention center?”
My thought slips out without a filter, making the woman smile.
“It’s actually not. No one is in the house after ten, except for the people who want to be in the house. Henrietta and Damon. And now you.”
Charming.
“You’ll be all right,” she says, noticing the wry smile on my lips.
“I’m sure I will. Thank you so much.”
She tilts her chin in response, and soon after, she walks out the door while I stay frozen in the middle of the room, perpetually in awe of the beautiful space.