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Like there’s any room for honorifics here.
“It’s just Lucia,” I say. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”
“I’ll be quick,” the woman answers, and she’s not lying. She makes the bed at a speed I’ve never managed, the few times I attempted to make my own bed. Even the fitted sheet cooperates with her.
I feel awkward standing around in a towel, but there’s nothing else I can wear. Well, except the outfit Victor so kindly left behind, but the towel provides more coverage than that awful crop top and skirt.
“What’s your name?” I ask her. It’s surreal talking to somebody who isn’t one of those three assholes.
She freezes and looks around the room, as if checking for somebody else I could possibly be addressing. Either that, or she’s paranoid about Victor, too. The cameras in the room don’t exactly lend themselves to privacy. It had taken me a few days, but I’ve mapped out the blind spots, just in case. Not that I act any differently, because I don’t want Saint to realize and adjust the camera placement. Or worse, add more cameras.
“Anabel, ma’am,” she says timidly.
“Have you worked here long?” I ask, trying to stimulate a conversation with someone other than the men keeping me captive here—someone who isn’t dangerous to me.
“A few years.” Anabel gets back to making the bed, and there’s an extra hurried quality to her movements now. She places the dirty sheets into a small cart and starts heading toward the door.
The door she has a key to, but I’m not foolish enough to believe I’d get very far if I tried to follow her. I watch longingly, but I can’t think of any way to keep her here. I just want some company!
Then, just a foot away from the door, Anabel’s phone buzzes. She stops to pull it out of her pocket, but she catches herself before she answers it. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“No, go ahead!” I tell her. “Please, I don’t mind. You can take the call in the bathroom if you want privacy.”
She shakes her head, but she does look down. “No, it’s just a text. My sister’s baby started walking. She sent me a picture.”
Her sister. I smile at her, as friendly as I can while still wearing just a towel. “That’s wonderful! Are you close with your sister?”
“Yes! We chat every week and have big family lunches once a month.” Anabel’s a lot more animated now. “Our children are growing up together. They are more like brothers than cousins.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely. I… I miss my sister,” I give her a pained smile now, that wholecheerfulness through adversityattitude that has gotten me sympathy in the past. “I wish I knew how she was doing. My father… ah, never mind, I shouldn’t trouble you with this.”
I feel a bit bad about Anabel’s clear distress. Nothing I said was technically a lie. I really am close to my sister, and my father really is an abusive dickbag.
“I hope… That is, Mr. Corvi is not a bad man.” Anabel looks around in discomfort. “He will not hurt you here.”
I want to laugh. Not a bad man? Does she have any idea who she’s talking about? I guess he probably pays his employees well for their silence, and there’s no need for him to go out of his way to be cruel to a maid. His sadism is always well-crafted and well-aimed, and there’s always a purpose behind it—even if I have no idea what the purpose is.
“You’re right,” I lie. “But… sorry, I know this is a strange request. Do you think I could borrow your phone? I just want to talk to my sister, make sure she’s okay. You can watch me the entire time.”
Now I’ve caught her. She looks torn, and she fumbles with her phone.
She just needs one little more push. “It’s okay! I get it, I wouldn’t want to lend anybody my phone either. Don’t worry about me. I’m sure my sister is fine.”
Anabel shakes her head and hands her phone to me. “No, I’m sorry. But please make it fast. I need to finish my rounds.”
My hands tremble as I take the phone, the only key to my freedom. Then I realize I always access Vanessa’s number through my contact list in my own phone. I try to remember what her number is. It ends in a… 3? An 8? I have to remember quickly. I won’t have long to try to get in touch with her.
If she even answers an unknown number.
Please, Vanessa.
I slowly edge back into one of the blind spots, hoping that me taking the phone will be nothing more than a blip they miss if they check the cameras. I type the number into Anabel’s phone and press the green button, holding my breath and hoping like hell I’m not going to end up calling the wrong person the only chance I get. If I do, Anabel might think I’m lying—and that might make her suspicious. I can’t have her getting suspicious.
By the only dumb stroke of luck I’ve had so far, Vanessa answers the call. She sounds wary, distrustful, and I don’t blame her. But she picked up. “Hello?”
“Nessa,” I say quickly, trying to put my thoughts into words without just stating outright what’s going on. “It’s Lucia. I only have a second, but I was just thinking about you and wanted to make sure you were okay. I haven’t been able to call you for a while.”
“Lucia?” Her voice is more intent, and I can practically visualize her sitting upright or standing now that I have her attention. “Where are you?”
