“I’ll get you, little cockroach, and when I do, you will regret this.” I know I will.
I hear him move away, and I sit on my bed. The notebooks are calling to me. I have so much I want to write about. I get up and lift my mattress to pull out the latest notebook. The others are hidden in a secret space where Milton can’t find them, along with some other secret things. My pen hits the paper and I start writing. The story flows from my hand. The story of a brave cop rescuing the damsel in distress from the robbers. I see him perfectly in my mind’s eye and describe him right down to his shade of black hair with shots of brown throughout. His melted chocolate eyes that took in everything. But he isn’t saving me. He’s saving my heroine, and she is brave. Not weak like me.
I’ve been writing stories since I can remember. On one of my recent trips to the library, I set up an email and have loaded up my stories to an online drive. I’ve even sent two romance stories to an agent. I want to get out on my own, and the only way I can do that is with money.
I write for hours until my hand cramps and my head hurts too much to continue. I’ve suffered from headaches off and on since I was a small girl, but my parents always said I was faking and to suck it up. I fall asleep curled in a ball, dreaming of Rocco and of the woman who hugs me. This is my life. But someday I hope to have my own small apartment and a life where my stories are read by others. Where I can be my own person, away from my family.
The next morning it’s back to the reality of my life. Cooking, cleaning, and taking care of my family. My body aches from everything I went through yesterday, but I continue like I’ve always done. This is all I’ve known most of my life.
* * *
For the past two weeks I’ve tried to avoid Milton as much as I can, but he cornered me in the kitchen this morning and pressed my arm to the side of the hot tea kettle. I held in the scream that wanted to come from my throat. But the tears still rolled down my face, and he laughed at my pain. I don’t know why he hates me so much or why he has such a sick fascination with me. He doesn’t treat our sister this way, just me. But everyone in my family treats me differently. It’s been like this since I can remember. The gauze protecting my burn is covered by my uniform sleeve.
Father just informed me that the family attorney will be here shortly. I’ve set up the coffee pot to brew and put a tray together with jelly and the fresh bread I made this morning. Most guests think I’m the hired help, not their daughter.
The doorbell chimes, and I move through the house to the front door. I open it, not expecting the man on the other side. I’ve dreamed about him every night, and now he’ll see who I really am. He’ll see that I’m nothing like the rest of my family. He’ll see that I’m the help. He won’t call me sweetheart or any of the pet names he came up with for me. I’ll have to write him differently after this, although nothing can change my growing feelings for him.
* * *
Rocco
We’ve been trying to get another interview with Guinevere about her attack. We need more information about the incident and her life. The perps didn’t steal her purse; they just assaulted her. Our only thought is they wanted to hurt her, and I want to know why. How am I going to protect her, because that’s what I want to do? From the moment I saw her, I wanted to shelter and protect her.
Finally, today we got the go-ahead from her attorney to come to the house and question her with him present. We are fifteen minutes earlier then they requested, but I couldn’t be away from her anymore. My skin feels like it’s crawling with need to hold her again. To see her beautiful face and mesmerizing eyes.
Damian rings the bell, and we hear the chime echo through the house. The door swings open and there stands Ever in a black-and-white maid’s uniform. Her long blond hair is up in a tight bun at the back of her head. Her bruises have faded, but the fear is still in her eyes. I can’t tell if it’s fear of us or of something else.
“Rocco…” She pauses and shakes her head. “Officer Distonoli and Officer Shaw, please come in. I’ll get Mr. Chambers for you.” She doesn’t call him Father, but he claimed he was that at the hospital and she identified him as such. She steps back as a curvy dyed blonde rounds the corner. As soon as the girl’s eyes land on Damian and me, they grow wide and she instantly smiles seductively.
“Well, well , well. What do we have here? I’m Pru Chambers, single, and ready to be cuffed.” She walks right up to me and slides her hand down my chest. I grab her wrist, stopping her. I look over at Guinevere, who has averted her eyes but I can still see the hurt in them.
“I’m Detective Distonoli and this is Detective Shaw. We are here to speak with Guinevere.” I nod toward her as she turns to look at me confused. Pru huffs and moves to Damian.
“Are you as priestly as he is? Can I show you my room? I’m willing to be patted down,” she coos, but he moves her aside.
“Not interested. We have questions for your sister.”
“Sister? Heh. You mean the help?” As she moves away, she shoulder checks Ever, almost knocking her down as she storms off around the corner. I jump to keep Guinevere from falling over.
“Maid, I want my lunch now,” Pru demands in a loud voice. “We don’t pay you to socialize.”
Ever tries to pull herself from my arms, but I hold her to me. Two weeks has been too long. I’ve missed her, and I didn’t even know her before then. Now that she’s back in my arms, it’s going to take an act of God to get her out of them.
“Guinny, now.” Pru’s voice goes shrill.
“Just a moment, Ms. Chambers,” Ever says loud enough for Pru to hear, but her voice is still soft. She pushes away from me, but again I hold her close to me.
“Ever, what is going on here?” I’m confused. If she’s their daughter, why is she working for them as a maid. What did the sister mean by pay her? I have so many questions.
“Guinevere, this way. Bring them with you,” George orders from behind us.
I turn with my girl still pressed into my side. My girl? That’s what she’s going to be.
“But, Daddy, Guinny is going to make me lunch,” Pru whines from across the room, her overly inflated lips puckered out.
“You’ll have to make it yourself or wait.” His voice turns soft as he addresses Pru, his daughter. She huffs and stomps her foot like the spoiled brat she is. “Let her go,” he orders me, his voice cold and full of disdain. Ever pulls away, and this time I let her.
Ever waves her arm toward her father, and we move that way. She leaves us at the door to his office as the doorbell chimes again. I wait at the entrance for her, making sure they know I’m watching. The sister watches also from the entrance to the kitchen. The hatred in her eyes is evident. Ever leads the attorney to the office and is about to step around me and out, but I stop her.
“We are here to talk to you, Ev—Guinevere.” I hold her forearm and she cringes. She bites her lip like she’s in pain. I loosen my grip and look down to check her arm out. I lift her sleeve and see a gauze wrapped around her arm. Leaning over her, I whisper softly for her ears only, “Are you in danger here, Ever?” Her eyes flash up to mine. I see the fear in them, but she masks it quickly and shakes her head ever so slightly.
“Guinevere, get the coffee and then come here.”
“Yes, sir.” She looks down at my hand and I release her. She leaves the room, and again I wait at the entrance watching her as she moves through the house toward the kitchen. When she passes her sister, Pru smiles big, looking like the Grinch, before she follows Ever into the kitchen. I hear a scuffle and the sound of a slap, but by the time I get to the kitchen Ever has her head in the fridge and her sister is standing by the sink.
“What? Don’t trust her with our good silver either?” Again, she has a big smile, and I notice none of her facial muscles work besides her mouth, as if she’s the Joker or the Grinch.
When Ever turns around, I see the red mark on her face and I’m across the room in seconds. I lift her chin and she cringes back.
“Did you do this?” I demand of her sister.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She acts dumb.
“Guinevere, I told you to get the coffee and return, not visit with the police officer,” George growls from the kitchen entrance. Ever jumps, and I see the fear again. These people are hurting her. But if she doesn’t report it, I can’t do anything as she’s an adult. I want to smack the bitch and kick her father’s ass, but I can’t do anything to jeopardize my job. “Come with me, Officer.” George directs me out of the room.
“It’s Detective Distonoli,” I correct him, and we head back to the office. I hate to leave Ever with the bitch, but I have little choice.