A moment later, the unmistakable staccato cadence of puppy feet on marble floors echoed through the hall, followed by a string of high-pitched yips. She turned to see an adorable ball of maple-brown fur skittering toward her on the slippery stone floor.
Adorable. Off-the-charts cute. Insta-worthy, teddy-bear-cuddly adorable. "Oh, you must be Nutmeg."
"Yes," Delphine said. "This is Nutmeg. Hopefully, he'll be easy for you." Her voice lowered a couple of octaves."Miss Van Horn is very particular about Nutmeg. Just treathim like the prince she thinks he is, and you'll do fine. Just make sure Miss Van Horn is well aware of how well you're taking care of him. I'm sure she'll call daily. She worries unnecessarily."
Lena scooped up Nutmeg, trying to reassure him that she was a friend who would take very good care of him—at least as long as she was at the Van Horn estate, which might not be long at all if she could find Cassidy quickly and convince her to come home. She would make sure Delphine could hire someone else to care for Nutmeg before she and Cassidy left—hopefully as early as today. Knowing she might need to come prepared, though, she'd packed for a few days in case Cassidy took some convincing. Because . . .Cassidy.
Nutmeg's tiny tail, a jubilant blur of fur, wagged incessantly. He licked her face twice, then nudged her chin with the top of his head.
Don't get attached. He may be the cutest dog you've seen in your life, but this isn't your dog and you won't be here long.
She needed to focus on the real reason she traveled to the Caribbean, but taking care of this little twelve-pound Maltipoo was going to be pure joy. She'd worried about trying to play her part, using her fake name, fakebackground, et cetera, but there was nothing fake about her love for dogs. And this dog—with his exceptional cuteness and sweet kisses—was going to make the pet-sitting part of her mission easy.
She felt silly now, having been so nervous moments ago on the front porch. Delphine was friendly. And little Nutmeg was quite possibly the sweetest curly-haired dog she'd ever met. She'd probably worried for nothing. Cassidy was probably here somewhere, lounging next to the swimming pool, getting a tan and reading a book without a care in the world. She just needed to check on her, make sure she was okay, and talk her into coming home.
"Your room is just down this hall," Delphine said.
She tried to set Nutmeg back down and follow Delphine, but he leaned into her chest, so she decided to carry him. Delphine showed her to a beautiful bedroom. Spacious and well furnished with all-white furniture, it boasted a huge picture window with a view of a colorful garden and the ocean in the distance.
She set her carry-on tote on a white wicker bench near the window and kept her tone as casual as possible. "So, I understand Miss Van Horn is in Europe for these twoweeks—that's why I'm here, of course—but she mentioned a nephew. Is he living in the house?"
Delphine nodded. "Oh yes, Emil arrived a few days ago. I don't know his exact plans, but he'll be here for most of this summer. I'm sure you'll meet him at some point, but you won't need to have much interaction with him. He golfs a lot and spends time on his yacht. If you have a question, ask me. And I'm sure Miss Van Horn will call often." Humor infused her gaze when it landed on Nutmeg. "She'll want to check on the prince."
Lena ruffled the mop of curly fur on Nutmeg's head. "I see. So, who else is staying here? Does Emil have guests or a girlfriend?"
Delphine's raised eyebrow sent her backpedaling.
"Oh, I'm not trying to be nosy," Lena said, though she absolutely was. "It's just such a big house. I just assumed he wasn't here alone."
Delphine's eyes smiled. "Yes, well, at times, the Van Horns invite friends to stay, but no one has visited for a couple of months. Like I said, Mr. Van Horn stays busy, so you won't see him much. Various staff will be around, but that's all. Enjoy the quiet. This should be an easy job for you."
Lena couldn't breathe. She needed to act casual, but Delphine made it very clear that Cassidy wasn't here.Not here? Where is she?She left Houston with Emil. When she called, she said she was with Emil at his estate in the Caribbean.
That call was a week ago. Lena had heard nothing from Cassidy since then. She'd heard the rumors. And the accusations from her parents' elite circle of friends. And the incessant whisper in her head that something about Emil was very wrong.
She didn't have an ounce of proof, but something about Emil Van Horn's charm never rang true. She'd worried when she'd watched Cassidy board Emil's private jet a week ago—although Emil and Cassidy were all smiles.
She'd offered to drive Cassidy to the airfield after she failed at talking her out of leaving the country with her new boyfriend. Lena wanted one last chance to convince her cousin to stay. Didn't work. Cassidy was head-over-heels for that too-white smile and those unnaturally tan abs.
Cassidy accepted the ride but insisted Lena not walk up to Emil's jet. Lena understood. The Van Horns and Lena's family, the Ashworths, did not get along. Some businessdeals had gone south, leaving nothing but bad blood between them. Cassidy was Lena's cousin, but she wasn't an Ashworth, so apparently, she wasn't tainted in Emil's eyes.
Cassidy promised to call after they landed, and she did. She told Lena they were in the Caribbean and that everything was wonderful, but because of unreliable cell service, she wouldn't be able to stay in touch. She promised to call again "soon."
Every day since, the worried whisper in Lena's head grew louder and louder until she finally devised a plan to come in person to check on Cassidy—using a fake name, due to Emil's deep-rooted hostility toward her family. No way he'd allow an Ashworth into his home.
But now . . . Cassidy isn't here.
Her frightened thoughts halted at the sound of frantic pounding and high-pitched shrieks for help.
Nutmeg trembled in her arms. In her delirium of swirling panic, she imagined she was hearing Cassidy calling out for help, but as she followed Delphine's hurried steps down the hallway toward the desperate screaming, she realized the voice was that of a child.
Still clutching little Nutmeg, she raced toward the sound until Delphine threw open a back door, revealing a young girl, maybe six or seven.
She was wide-eyed and near-hysterical. "Help us! Help us! Kai is on the pier!"
None of that made any sense to Lena, but something was obviously very wrong.
"Show us," Delphine said.
