But you still need that money, Safi.
Ugh.
“Roman… I mean, Mr. Schalk, it’s Safi.” I say the words as clearly as I dare through the closed door, ignoring the way my voice echoes in the wide, empty corridor leading to it. “Safi Osman… You hired me last night as a personal chef. I’m… I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wondered if I might have a word.”
No answer.
I should come back later. I know that. But I can’t because I need the money today. Right now, in fact.
Could I just go in?
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But Max means more to me than my own discomfort, or even this job, as amazing as it is. For my brother’s sake, I’m willing to risk being bawled at, humiliated, fired by the man I want to…
My stomach clenches and I close my eyes as the idea comes into my head. I should not be thinking anything like that right now. It feels almost disrespectful to my brother to be thinking of my boss shoving me up against the wall of his office, to feel his huge, rough hands digging into my flesh, tugging at my skirt and blouse, tearing them in his eagerness to get me naked, to…
I force myself to take a breath, to blow it out slowly. I can fantasize later. Right now I have to focus.
“Mr. Schalk, is it all right to just—” I try the door and miraculously it opens.
Falling silent, I push it wide and look around the room. Spotlessly clean. Everything in its place. A noticeboard with phone numbers, dates and first names written into every available space. A laptop computer sitting open on the desk. A filing cabinet. A waste paper basket with only a few screwed-up tissues tossed into the bottom. An aerial photo of the casino and golf course hanging on an otherwise empty wall. The gentle hum of the A/C keeping the space comfortably cool.
But no Roman Schalk.
I’ll just wait until he gets back, then fall on his mercy.
In my defense I don’t mean to do it, but when I sit at the desk the computer screen is right there. No screensaver. No password. Just open and staring back at me. My eyes are drawn to the spreadsheet because they’re bored, that’s all. The profit and loss account for the casino.
For a single day.
More zeros than I’ve ever seen in my life.
The money I want for Max is literally a teardrop in a wide, salty ocean. Roman wouldn’t even notice it had gone. Surely he won’t turn me down? Such a small advance, just to pay Anthea. He’s not completely heartless. I’m sure of that. I saw it yesterday.
But what will I even say? How will I explain breaking into his office?
I shouldn’t be here. I should go.
Standing up from the desk, I glance around for something to write a note. I’ll leave it here and go, and when he comes back he’ll make his decision. I’ll explain that it’s urgent and he can come over to the guesthouse. Or send for me and I’ll come here. Whatever, I’ll find the words. Other than the computer, the desk is literally empty, so I open the first drawer. There’s a pen that looks like it cost more than my culinary skills course. Great. Next drawer, a pad of paper. I pull it out and—
Oh. My. God.
As the pad comes out of the drawer, it pulls the flap on a brown envelope that was sitting underneath it, and what I see inside has me gasping. A stack of hundred-dollar bills, all worn at the edges but neatly tied together with an elastic band. It doesn’t even seem like I have a choice about pulling out the envelope. My hands are moving on their own. Flicking through the money, I can’t even begin to count it. Twenty thousand? Thirty? Fifty? I have no clue. Far more than I would need for Anthea and—
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
Looking up, I see the man from yesterday standing in the doorway. Not one of the ones I was catering for, the one that came in to speak to Roman and was told to wait outside.
“You…what are you doing here?”
“Call me Jack, sweetheart. And I can ask you the same question, don’t you think?” His eyes glance down at my cleavage and my hand goes instinctively to cover myself.
Which is when I realize what it must look like.
My fingers go limp and the money drops with a slap onto the desk, sitting there like an accusation.
“I—I found it when I was looking for… I wasn’t going to take any. I was just looking for Roman…”
“Mr. Schalk.” A sly grin slides over one side of his face, but only that side, like he’s two different people.
One cruel, the other indifferent.