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Since he was going to be in trouble, he figured he might as well make it worth it.
* * *
Haven hummed while she worked.
It was a habit she’d had all of her life. Her mama used to say that before Haven could talk, she hummed, mimicking the lullabies she’d sung to her at night in the stables. It had calmed her as a baby, soothed her, and as she went about her work, it had a similar effect.
The words to the songs were long forgotten, but the melodies continued to play in her head. It brought Haven back to an earlier time—a time when things were still innocent. She’d hum, and suddenly the sun shined a bit brighter, the world around her not as dark as she knew it could be.
Used to having every detail of her life controlled, she had a hard time sorting through things on her own. She should’ve gotten clarification, because nothing should be assumed, but she was so afraid of making a mistake that she couldn’t force the questions out. She’d already upset Dr. DeMarco once asking something. How many chances would she get before he snapped?
So she did whatever came naturally to her. That afternoon, she scrubbed the hardwood floors and cleaned the bathrooms. She dusted and vacuumed, but stayed away from every room with a lock. She found a clear bottle in the supply closet, labeled in black lettering that it was for the windows. They were the only dirty part of the house, so she cleaned them as high up as she could reach.
By three o’clock, Haven was fresh out of things to do.
She was sorting through the pantry when the alarm in the foyer beeped and the front door opened. Footsteps headed her direction and her heart thumped wildly. Panicked, she darted for the doorway, irrationally planning to hide, and collided with Dominic when he stepped into the kitchen. “Whoa, Twinkle Toes. Warn me next time you wanna dance.”
Instinctively, she backed up a few steps. “I’m sorry.”
“No biggie,” he said, heading for the refrigerator. “You hungry?”
Haven watched the doorway for his company, realizing after a moment he was talking to her. She stammered, her stomach growling before she could get out a coherent thought.
He laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He slapped some ham and cheese between two slices of bread and grabbed a paper towel, holding it out to her. She stared at the sandwich with surprise but took it carefully. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d eaten anything, too nervous to touch their food on her own.
Haven took a small bite as Dominic cleaned up, the entire exchange surreal. She couldn’t believe he’d served her, the servant.
3
Haven sat on the edge of her bed, her hands folded in her lap and her gaze trained on the floor. She could see Dr. DeMarco’s shoes from the corner of her eye, a small trail of dirt on the carpet behind them that he’d dragged in. The impulsive urge to clean it hit her, but she remained still, not wanting to offend him.
It was a few minutes past six in the evening. She’d slipped up to her room after eating her sandwich earlier in the day, feeling out of place downstairs.
“You cleaned.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But I told you to relax.”
She tensed. Was that disrespectful? “I was awake and didn’t know what else to do.”
“I appreciate the effort,” he said. “In all honesty, I can’t recall the windows ever being free of grime. You did clean them, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you used the correct cleaner?”
“I think so,” she said. “The clear bottle from the closet.”
He took a step toward her. She flinched when his hand shot out, but her reaction didn’t stop him. Grasping her chin, he forced her to look at him. “I don’t expect perfection, child. Make sure the house is decent, the beds are made, and the laundry is done, and we shouldn’t have any problems. Dinner is to be on the table at seven every night, unless I tell you otherwise. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. DeMarco let go of her, and she looked away, eye contact uncomfortable. He turned to walk out of the room but stopped in the library when he realized she was right on his heels. “Is there something you need?”
“It’s already after six, so I thought I should start dinner.”
