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The phone on the wall in the kitchen begins to ring, and I look around, confused. Should I answer it?
Ring, ring.
Ring, ring.
I bite my thumbnail and stare at it as it vibrates on the wall. I peer into the living room, and then up the stairs.
Ring, ring.
If I don’t answer it, who will? I’m the only adult home, so…
I tentatively pick up the phone. “Hello.” I frown.
“Hello, Miss Brielle.” The voice is stern and commanding, and I feel my stomach flutter.
It’s him.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Masters.”
“Is everything all right?” he asks. “I’ve been emailing you, but you haven’t responded.”
Emailing me?
I shrug, because I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. “ Of course, everything is fine.”
“Are the children dressed? Have they had breakfast?”
I frown harder. “Erm...”
“If you’re having any problems, you do have all of the information on the list on the fridge.”
Oh shit, there is a list. I remember now. I walk over and take the piece of paper from the fridge.
6:30 a.m. Wake children and prepare their breakfast.
My eyes widen and I glance at my watch. It’s now 7:25 a.m.
Shit.
“The children are upstairs.” Which is not technically a lie because they are upstairs.
"You have to leave in ten minutes or they'll be late," he says.
“Late?”
“Yes, late. Willow starts school at 8:00 a.m., and it’s a half hour drive from our house.”
My eyebrows rise. Oh crap. “Of course, Mr. Masters. I have to go now, though, so we can leave in time.”
“Janelle will be there at 9:00 a.m.” He says it casually, like I should already know all about this.
“Janelle?” My eyes widen. Who the hell is Janelle?
Honestly, did I listen to anything that came out of that perfect mouth of his last night?
“She’s the cleaner and our cook. She cleans the house today and normally arrives around 4:00 p.m. each day to prepare the night’s meal.”
“Yes, okay,” I
