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After the short call, Rafael turned to me. “Look, I know it’s bad timing, but I have to go with Gabriel to visit one of our clubs to sort out an issue. You can settle in. You should unpack your things.”
“Um, okay.”
“There’s no maid to help you unpack. We don’t have a housekeeper or maid at the moment. The last housekeeper we employed stole from us, so Gabriel got rid of her.”
I knew Gabriel would have done more than just fire her, but I didn’t ask for details—I didn’t need to. I knew what happened to anyone who betrayed the Società.
“You can find a new one for us. You can telephone my mother—she’s bound to know of someone and if she doesn’t, she’ll know who to ask.”
I quaked inwardly at the thought of having to telephone his parents’ home.
Now that I was married, I was expected to go to my mother-in-law when I needed something rather than to my own mother. It was thought to be disrespectful not to defer to my mother-in-law on all relevant matters now that I was part of the Santino family.
After Rafael had gone, I was left by myself in the house.
As I looked around the bedroom, I knew I needed to stay busy to keep my mind off what would happen tonight in this room. Rafael had spared me last night, but I knew he wouldn’t carry on showing me mercy.
It was only early afternoon and I didn’t know when Rafael or Gabriel would be back. I thought about unpacking, but then I wondered if the men would be expecting me to prepare dinner given that there was no housekeeper? Rafael hadn’t left any instructions, and I didn’t want to telephone Ortensia to ask her.
Now that I was alone, I kicked off my pale pink suede pumps, sighing as my feet sunk into the soft, luxurious rug in his bedroom. I decided to change out of my shift dress. My luggage had already been brought here and I found it neatly lined up in the walk-in closet.
I opened one of the cases and found some gray jeans and a black t-shirt to change into. My mother would have a heart attack if she saw me—she had purchased a multitude of ‘Stepford Wife’ outfits for me to wear in my new role as Mrs. Rafael Santino. The dresses, skirts, and blouses were too formal, and given there was no one but me in the house right now, I couldn’t see what harm wearing my jeans could do.
The dark colors of the jeans and t-shirt were more suitable for doing the housework, I justified to myself—although I knew that there was also another reason I was drawn to these clothes.
Since the attack, I felt a need to wear clothes that would not draw attention to myself or my body. Dark, boring colors made me stand out less. I wanted to be inconspicuous. And being in a strange house made this feeling inside of me more acute.
I decided to go downstairs and check out the food situation. I was Rafael’s wife now and I somehow doubted that either he or Gabriel could cook, so they would probably be expecting me to prepare dinner. I found that there was hardly any fresh food in the fridge.
I picked up the phone and telephoned the local grocery store that delivered to my mother’s house. It was owned by a Società family, and although it was run as a front for laundering money, it had good stock and could be trusted to deliver to our homes. I placed an order and knew it would arrive within the hour.
While I waited for the grocery delivery, I had another look around downstairs. The formal dining room didn’t look like it was used often, and it was dustier than the kitchen. I decided we would eat tonight around the table in the smaller breakfast room which was next door to the kitchen. After hunting out some cleaning supplies, I set to work in the kitchen and breakfast room.
The soldiers at the gate took the delivery of the groceries and two of them carried them up to the house. I felt uncomfortable being by myself in the house and letting these two Santino soldiers come in, and I breathed a sigh of relief when they left and I could close the door behind them.
Before I started preparing dinner, I thought about the herb garden I had seen outside from the bedroom window. I decided to spare a few minutes to have a look at it and, surprisingly, I found it was better looked after than the house. I picked some fresh basil, bay leaves, and thyme. There were also strawberries growing in the garden and I picked some of those as well.
Back in the kitchen, I removed a whole chicken from the groceries and started to prepare it. I rubbed olive oil over it and sprinkled it with salt, before adding the herbs that I had collected from the garden and covering the top of the chicken with slices of Parma ham.
After I had put it in the oven, I set to work on parboiling some potatoes, which I would add to the roasting tray later. I picked out the vegetables I had ordered, washing and chopping some carrots and green vegetables, which I set aside to steam later.
I didn’t know whether the men would expect dessert, so I washed the strawberries and left them in a bowl. If anyone wanted dessert, I would serve them with the cream and sugar that had also been delivered from the store.
Now that the dinner was in the oven, I decided to get to work on cleaning this bachelor pad. There was far too much work for me to accomplish in an afternoon, so I decided to focus on finishing the kitchen before moving onto Rafael’s bedroom. His adjoining bathroom was remarkably clean, so at least that was something.
I stripped the bed in Rafael’s bedroom and bundled up the sheets, taking them down to the laundry room, where I was dismayed to find a huge pile of unwashed laundry. I didn’t have the time to do anything about it now, so I added the sheets to the heap.
I found the linen cupboard and selected some clean sheets and remade the bed. The sheets were high quality Egyptian cotton and I ran my hand over their smoothness as I finished making the bed. I then set to work dusting, polishing, and vacuuming the bedroom, before giving the adjoining bathroom a once-over for the sake of completeness.
By the time I was finished in the bedroom, the chicken was almost done. I wasn’t sure what time the men would be home and I hoped that the meat wouldn’t get overdone and dry while I waited for them. I wondered whether I should call Rafael on his cell phone but then decided against it.
Not long later, Rafael and Gabriel arrived home and I heard them as they made their way to the kitchen.
“Hi.” I nervously wiped my hands against my gray jeans. “Are you ready for dinner? I’ve made roast chicken.”
Gabriel scowled. “We have Italian food on Mondays—specifically spaghetti and meatballs.” His tone was abrupt. I got the feeling that I had done something wrong.
“Oh…I wasn’t sure what the arrangements would be for dinner, so I went ahead and cooked something...”
