Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Permanently.
I believe it. Victor doesn't have family. He has possessions.
“Done!” Anne drops her pencil on her desk and is at the door in a shot. She takes her silk robe off the hook and slips it on over her pajamas. “Let’s go.”
There’s no matching robe for me. I’m wearing plain gray sweats, the only real option I have aside from my regular uniform: a shapeless navy skirt that reaches my calves, with a matching cardigan for warmth over a frumpy white blouse. Sometimes I envy Anne’s bottomless wardrobe, but where would I use it? Most of the time I’m glad to keep a low profile. Being ignored beats the heck out of catching the wrong kind of notice.
“Okay, come on. It’s almost past your bedtime, but if we make this quick we can be back before nine. Quiet like a mouse, right?”
Anne nods with a grin. She puts her finger against her lips and we slip out into the silent hall.
The shortest path to the kitchen means cutting through the open area in the middle of the main house and going past the steaming pool. There’s a shadow of a helicopter on the far wall, cast from the helipad on the roof. Having the building all around us cuts off the bitter January wind coming off the water, but it's still freezing cold. We dash across to the other side and slip through the open glass doors into the large living room. From there, the kitchen is just around the corner.
A solitary guard looks up as we pass. He catches my elbow and leans in so Anne doesn’t hear. “Hurry up, Ratty. Better get back to your hole before the cat notices you’re out.”
I shiver and shake off his grip. Victor’s men named me Rat Girl, saying I’m always scurrying around in the shadows. They think it’s an insult, but I’ll take it over the alternative. I learned my lesson early. I was fourteen when I was just starting to realize becoming a woman might hold a new kind of power. One of Victor’s bodyguards was handsome and liked to flirt when nobody was watching. That was all it took to make me start dreaming of us falling in love, and maybe he would take me away from this, and…
Let’s face it, I don’t know what I thought was going to happen. I was young and stupid. Catherine—Anne’s old Nanny who was also in charge of keeping an eye on me—caught wind and went straight to Victor.
The next day, my back was covered in bruises, and I never saw that guard again. I was hurt and heartbroken, but now I’m glad it scared me enough to keep me from making the same mistake again. Catherine might’ve been a nasty piece of work, but now that I’m older and understand what was happening better, she did me a favor.
Oblivious, Anne slips ahead, making a beeline for a particular cabinet as soon as we get to the kitchen. She pushes pots and pans aside, practically crawling inside to get to her hidden stash.
"Got it." She emerges with a bag in her hand, full of cookies stolen from the catering before they ended up in the garbage. “I saved enough to share. Let’s go!”
The ceiling light turns on, making both of us wince and blink. "What the heck do you think you're doing?" Marissa’s shrill voice breaks the quiet with all the gentleness of a dish thrown at the wall. “Are you stealing food?”
"Stealing? This is my house, not yours!" Anne snaps back. "I’m just getting a snack."
"For now,” Marissa growls. “Listen here, you little snot. I don't care that I'm not your mother. I’m not going to let you embarrass us by getting fat."
Anne freezes, red splotches staining her cheeks. Her body is just starting to lose its childish lankiness, filling out in places that are new and a little scary to her. There’s nothing wrong with her. Not one bit. She could eat a whole bag of cookies every night and still be perfect.
I step in front of her, blocking Marissa’s poisonous glare. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a few cookies.”
Victor's girlfriends come and go like a revolving door. Marissa has made it nearly two years now, and she might think that means something, but I’ve seen better women than her get kicked to the curb. Standing up to her is going to come back and bite me, but I’m not going to stand here and let her fat shame a little girl for wanting a cookie.
"You shut the hell up," she seethes. "You’re the help. Maybe you should do your job and watch Anne, not enable her. If you can’t follow simple instructions and be a healthy role model, then it’s time for Victor to finally listen to me and get rid of you. She should be in boarding school where she can learn some real manners."