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Uh-oh.
Maybe I didn’t choose the best hiding spot.
* * *
Benny drivesme to the mansion, where Dorinda and Giles meet me in the dining room. I spend the next two hours answering questions about what I want in a new home. I flip through Dorinda’s portfolio, and they request I create a Pinterest board for my ideas.
When we finish, I walk them out and say goodbye, and as if the world hates me, I run into Gretchen.
Her blue eyes widen in shock.
My gut twists.
“I think it’s time we chat,” I tell her.
Chatting with a woman who’s slept with my husband is the last thing on my want list, but it needs to happen. I can’t be like my mother and turn a blind eye to other women.
“Uh …” She stares at me in reluctance, like I’m holding a gun to her head and asking for her ATM pin number. “What?”
“Look.” I raise my hand. “I understand our situation. You and your mother work here. I assume you need this job, and given who you work for, it’d be hard to find work elsewhere.”
The Marchettis have more help than my parents. I grew up with landscapers and a cleaning crew who visited our home once a week, but that’s it. There were no cooks or in-house help. From what I’ve heard, it’s hard for employees to transfer from family to family—unless their new boss intends to drag information from them.
“We do,” she says, rapidly blinking. “My mother has worked for Cristian for decades. It’s all she knows.”
Gretchen is a pretty little thing, so I’m not surprised she caught Benny’s attention. Blonde, perky breasts, and even in her housekeeper attire, you can make out her slim figure.
“I don’t want either of you unemployed,” I continue, “but you need to understand how disrespectful your behavior was—whether you knew me or not. I could kill you, like Benny did Alden.”
Gretchen scrambles back a step.
“ButI’ma tad bitcalmer than my husband.”
She retreats another step and flinches harder when I sayhusbandthan she did when I mentioned killing her even though rubbing it in her face hadn’t been my intention.
She loves Benny. It’s written all over her face.
“Benny told me your marriage would be fake,” she says.
“Even so, it’s against girl code.” I offer my hand, and she shakes it. “Let’s make an agreement. You stay away from my husband. If he attempts to come on to you, tell me. If he so much as asks you to even glance at his dick, you let me know.” I blow out a long breath. “I’m trying my best here, Gretchen, but it’s awkward.”
She’s lucky I’m not chasing her outside with a damn butcher knife, like I’ve witnessed my mother do.
Gretchen shifts from one foot to the other in her white Nikes when we drop our hands. “Friends?”
“We’re not friends. I know everyone has a past. Your past was fucking my husband, which had better stay in the past.”
She slowly nods.
“Not friends, but also not sleeping with the same man.”
Gigi and Natalia rush into the foyer, as if the mansion were on fire.
Gigi skirts to a stop. “I heard you two were together.” Her gaze travels between Gretchen and me. “But it appears all is well.”
“Do all you people think I’m crazy?” I ask.
“We absolutely do,” Natalia replies.
