by Blake Pierce
Cassie wanted to walk all the way around that horseshoe and get to know the children better, so she could be sure of getting off on the right foot with them.
However, they were doing their homework and were then heading out with their mother, so she would have to wait.
Instead, Cassie unpacked and made sure her room and cupboards were neat.
Ms. Rossi hadn’t asked her if she took any medications, so Cassie hadn’t had to tell her about all the anxiety meds that kept her on an even keel.
She stashed the bottles out of sight, at the back of her bedside drawer.
Cassie hadn’t expected that her first night in the house would be spent alone, making her way down to the empty kitchen and looking in the drawers until she found the menus.
The fridge was full of food, but Cassie had no idea if it was reserved for future meals, and there was nobody she could ask. All the staff, including the maid who had helped her, seemed to have left for the day. She felt self-conscious and awkward at the thought of ordering food in for herself on the family’s tab, on her very first night, but she decided it would be best to follow Ms. Rossi’s orders.
There was a phone in the kitchen, so she called one of the local restaurants and ordered a takeout lasagna and a Diet Coke. Half an hour later, it arrived. Not wanting to go into the formal dining room, Cassie did some more exploring. The downstairs area had many smaller rooms, and one of them, which she supposed was a children’s dining room, had a small table with four chairs.
She sat there and ate her food while studying her Italian phrase book. Then, exhausted after everything that had happened that day, she went to bed.
Just before she fell asleep, her phone buzzed.
It was the friendly barman from the guesthouse.
Hey, Cassie! I think I remembered where Jax was working. The town’s name is Bellagio. Fingers crossed this helps!”
Hope flooded through Cassie as she read the words. This was the town—the actual town—where her sister had stayed. Had she been working there? Cassie hoped that she’d been staying at a lodge or hostel as this would mean she could be traced. She would begin her investigation as soon as she had time, and Cassie felt confident that it would bring results.
What was the town like? The name sounded charming. Why had Jacqui chosen to travel there?
There were so many unanswered questions bubbling in her mind that Cassie took much longer than she’d expected to fall asleep.
When she finally did, she dreamed that she was in the town. It was quaint and scenic, with winding terraces and buildings in honeyed stone. Walking down the street, she asked a passerby, “Where can I find my sister?”
“She’s there.” He pointed up the hill.
As she walked, Cassie began to wonder what was up there. It seemed a long way from anywhere. What was Jacqui doing there? Why hadn’t she come down to find Cassie, since she knew her sister was in town?
Finally, breathlessly, she reached the top of the hill, but the tower had gone, and all she could see was a huge, dark lake. Its murky waters lapped at the dark, crumbling stone edges that surrounded it.
“Here I am.”
“Where?”
The voice seemed to come from far away.
“You’re too late,” Jacqui whispered, her voice husky and filled with sadness. “Dad got to me first.”
Horrified, Cassie leaned over and looked down.
There was Jacqui, lying at the bottom of the dark, cold water.
Her hair swirled around her and her limbs were white and lifeless, draped like seaweed over the sharp rocks, while her sightless eyes stared up.
“No!” Cassie screamed.
She realized this wasn’t Jacqui at all, and she wasn’t in Italy. She was back in France, staring over the stone parapet at the sprawled body far below. This was no dream, it was a memory. Dizziness overcame her and she clutched at the stone, terrified that she was going to fall, too, because she felt so weak and helpless.
“That’s what dads are for. That’s what they do.”
The taunting voice spoke from behind her and she staggered round.
There he was, the man who had lied to her and misled her and destroyed her confidence. But it wasn’t her father she was looking at. It was Ryan Ellis, her employer in England, his face twisted with contempt.
“That’s what dads do,” he whispered. “They hurt. They destroy. You weren’t good enough, and now it’s your turn. That’s what they do.”
His outstretched hand grabbed her shirt and he shoved with all his might.
Cassie screamed in terror as she felt herself lose her grip, the stone slipping from her grasp.
She was falling, falling.
And then she landed, sitting up, gasping, cold sweat chilling her even though the spacious bedroom was warm.
The layout of the room was unfamiliar, and she spent some time fumbling around before locating her bedside table and then, finally, the light switch.
She turned it on and sat up, desperate to confirm that she’d escaped her nightmare.
She was in the large double bed with its ornate metal headboard. On the opposite side of the room was the big bay window with its golden brown curtains closed.
To her right was the bedroom door, and to the left was the door of her bathroom. The desk, the chair, the bar fridge, the wardrobe, everything was as she remembered it.
Cassie let out a deep breath, reassured that she wasn’t still trapped in her dream.
Although it was still dark, it was already a quarter past seven in the morning. With a start, she remembered that she hadn’t received any instruction about what the children should be doing. Or had she, but it had slipped her mind? Had Ms. Rossi said something about school?
Cassie shook her head. She couldn’t recall anything and didn’t think she had mentioned the school times.
She climbed out of bed and quickly dressed. In the bathroom, she tamed her auburn waves into a tidy look that she hoped would be acceptable in this fashion-focused home.
As she stared into the mirror, she heard a noise outside.
Cassie froze, listening.
She picked up the faint sound of footsteps, scrunching over gravel. The bathroom window’s frosted glass faced outward, toward the gate.
Was this one of the kitchen staff?
She pushed the window open and peered out.
In the deep gray of the early morning, Cassie saw a dark-clad figure sidling around the house. As she stared, astonished, she made out the shape of a man wearing a black beanie and carrying a small dark backpack. She caught only a momentary glimpse, but saw he was heading toward the back door.
Her heart accelerated as she thought of intruders, and the automatic gate, and the security cameras.
She remembered Ms. Rossi’s words and the clear warning she had given. This was a wealthy family. No doubt they might be a target for robbery, or even kidnapping.
She had to go and investigate. If she thought he looked dangerous, she could raise the alarm, scream, and wake the household.
As she hurried downstairs, she decided on her plan of action.
The man had headed round the back of the house, so she would go out the front door. There was enough light now to be able to see, and the cold night had left frost on the grass. She would be able to track his footprints.
Cassie walked outside, locking the front door behind her. The morning was still and freezing cold, but she was so nervous she barely noticed the temperature.
There were the footprints, faint but clear in the frost. They led around the house, over the neatly trimmed grass, and onto the courtyard bricks.
Following them, she saw they led to the back door, which was standing wide open.
Cassie crept up the steps, noticing the distinctive shoe prints on each stone stair.
She paused in the doorway, waiting, straining to hear any suspicious noises over the hammering of her own heart.
She could hear nothing from inside, although the light
s were on. A faint smell of coffee wafted toward her. Perhaps this man had been a driver, dropping off a delivery, and the cook had let him in. But then, where was he, and why couldn’t she hear any voices?
Cassie tiptoed into the kitchen but found nobody there.
She decided to go and check on the children and make sure that they were all right. Then, once she’d confirmed they were safe, she would wake Ms. Rossi and explain what she’d seen. It might be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry, especially seeing the man seemed to have vanished into thin air.
It had been such a fleeting glimpse that if she hadn’t seen the shoe prints, Cassie would have believed she’d imagined the furtive character.
She jogged up the stairs and turned toward the children’s bedrooms.
Before she reached them, she halted again, clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
There was the man—a slim, black-clad figure.
He was outside Ms. Rossi’s bedroom, and was reaching for the door handle with his left hand.
She couldn’t see his right hand, because it was held out in front of him, but from the angle, it was obvious that he was holding something in it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Needing a weapon, Cassie grabbed the first item that her panicked eyes could see—a bronze statuette on a side table near the stairs.
Then she ran toward him. She was going to have the advantage of surprise, since he wouldn’t be able to turn in time. She’d bring the statuette down first on his head, and then on his right hand to disarm him.
Cassie leaped forward. He was turning—this was her chance. She raised her makeshift weapon.
Then, as he turned to face her, she skidded to a halt. Her cry of surprise was drowned out by his outraged shout.
The short, slender man was holding a large takeaway mug of coffee in his hand.
“What the hell?” he shouted.
Cassie lowered the statue and stared at him incredulously.
“Were you trying to attack me?” the man blustered. “Are you out of your mind? You nearly made me drop this.”
He looked down at the coffee, which had splashed up through the vent in the lid and onto his hand. A few drops had spilled onto the floor. He reached into his pocket for a Kleenex and bent to mop it up.
Cassie guessed he was in his early thirties. He looked immaculately groomed. His brown hair was fade-cut to perfection and he wore a short, well-trimmed beard. She picked up a hint of an Australian accent in his voice.
Straightening up, he glared at her.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Cassie Vale, the au pair. Who are you?”
His eyebrows rose.
“As of when? You weren’t here yesterday.”
“I was hired yesterday afternoon.”
“Signora hired you?”
He emphasized the last word and stared at her for a few seconds, during which Cassie felt herself grow increasingly uncomfortable. She nodded wordlessly.
“I see. Well, my name is Maurice Smithers, and I’m Ms. Rossi’s personal assistant.”
Cassie gaped at him. He didn’t fit her picture of what a personal assistant was like.
“Why did you sneak into the house?”
Maurice sighed.
“The front door lock is difficult to open in cold weather. It makes an unholy noise and I don’t like to disturb the household when I arrive early. So I use the back, as it’s quieter.”
“And the coffee?”
Cassie stared at the mug, still feeling blindsided by the strangeness of his appearance and his purported role.
“It’s from an artisanal brewery down the road. It’s Signora’s favorite. I bring her a mug when we have our morning meetings.”
“So early?”
Although her tone was accusing, Cassie was feeling embarrassed. She’d believed she was being heroic, acting in the best interests of Ms. Rossi and her children. Now she was discovering she’d made a serious mistake, and had gotten off on the wrong foot with Maurice. As her personal assistant, he was obviously an influential figure in her life.
Her visions of a future internship were suddenly looking less certain. Cassie couldn’t bear to think that her dream might already have been compromised thanks to her own foolhardy actions.
“We have a very busy day today. Ms. Rossi prefers to start early. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to give this to her before it gets cold.”
He tapped respectfully on the door and a moment later, it was opened.
“Buongiorno, Signora. How are you this morning?”
Ms. Rossi was dressed and perfectly made up. She had a different pair of boots on today; these were cerise, with big silver buckles.
“Molto bene, grazie, Maurice.” She took the coffee from him.
The Italian pleasantries seemed to be a formality before the conversation switched to English, Cassie realized, as Maurice continued.
“It’s chilly outside. Shall I go and turn the heating up in your office?”
Up until now, Cassie hadn’t known that Maurice could smile, but now his face was stretched in an obsequious grin and he was practically fizzing over with the desire to please.
“We won’t be there too long. I am sure the heating will be adequate. Bring my coat, will you?”
“Of course.”
Maurice took the fur-collared coat from the wooden stand near the bedroom door. Following close behind her, he began talking animatedly.
“Wait until you hear what we have in the pipeline for Fashion Week. We had an excellent meeting yesterday with the French team. I’ve recorded the whole thing, of course, but I also have the minutes and a summary prepared.”
Cassie realized that Ms. Rossi hadn’t said a word to her. She must have seen her standing there, but her attention had been completely focused on Maurice. Now the two of them were heading toward the office where Cassie had been interviewed the day before.
She didn’t think Ms. Rossi was deliberately ignoring her—at least, she hoped she wasn’t. It was more as if she was completely distracted by work, with her full attention on the business day ahead.
“I have the sales reports for the past week, and there was a reply from the Indonesian suppliers.”
“I hope it is good news,” Ms. Rossi said.
“I think so. They’re requesting more information but it seems positive.”
Maurice was practically fawning over Ms. Rossi and Cassie had no idea whether he was ignoring her unintentionally or doing it deliberately, perhaps to show how much more important he was in her life than Cassie was.
She followed them to the office, trailing a few steps behind, waiting for the moment when there would be a gap in the conversation, so she could ask about the children’s schedules.
It soon became clear there was going to be no gap. With their heads bent over Maurice’s laptop, neither of them was giving her as much as a glance. Cassie became certain that Maurice was ignoring her on purpose. After all, he knew she was there.
She thought about interrupting them but felt nervous to do so. Their attention was so focused, and Cassie didn’t want to make Ms. Rossi angry, especially since the conversation she’d overheard yesterday proved that the businesswoman had a short fuse.
She’d been on top of the world after being hired, commended and praised by this influential woman. This morning, it was as if she didn’t exist to Ms. Rossi.
Turning away, Cassie felt discouraged and unsure. She tried to push the negative thoughts away, and firmly reminded herself that her role was to look after the children and not to monopolize Ms. Rossi’s attention when she was so busy. Hopefully Nina and Venetia would know what their schedule was.
When Cassie went to the girls’ rooms, she found them empty. Both beds had been immaculately made, and their rooms were tidy. Guessing that they must have gone to have breakfast, Cassie headed to the kitchen and was relieved to find them there.
“Good morning, Nina and Venetia,” she said.
&nb
sp; “Good morning,” they replied politely.
Nina was sitting on a chair while, behind her, Venetia wrapped a hair tie around her ponytail. Cassie guessed that Nina had just done the same for her sister because Venetia’s hair was already neatly tied.
Both girls were dressed in pink and white school smocks. They had made toast and orange juice, which was set out on the counter.
Cassie was struck by how they seemed to behave as a unit. From what she’d seen so far, they had a harmonious relationship; there was no sign of squabbling or even teasing. She guessed being so close in age meant that they were more like twins than older and younger sisters.
“You two are so well organized,” Cassie said admiringly. “You’re really clever at looking after yourselves. Can I get you anything to put on the toast? What do you usually have? Jam, cheese, peanut butter?”
Cassie wasn’t sure what was in the house, but guessed these staples must be available.
“I like plain toast with butter,” Nina said.
Cassie assumed that Venetia would agree with her sister. But the younger girl looked at her with interest, as if considering her suggestions. Then she said, “Jam, please.”
“Jam? No problem.”
Cassie opened cupboards until she found the one with the spreads. They were on a high shelf—too high for the children to reach.
“There’s strawberry jam and fig jam. Which do you want? Or else there’s Nutella.”
“Strawberry, please,” Venetia said politely.
“We are not allowed the Nutella,” Nina explained. “It is only for special occasions.”
Cassie nodded. “That makes sense, since it’s so delicious.”
She passed the jam to Venetia and sat down.
“What are you girls doing this morning? You look all ready for school. Must I take you there? What time does it start and do you know where to go?”
Nina finished her mouthful of toast.
