Page 21 of Under His Protection

And what am I even going to do?

Questions pinged in my head, too quick to answer, and all of them accumulating so fast.

Would I still go to work? I had to. How would I make a living? Did he plan to pay me to stay here and hide as his girlfriend? No, that didn’t sound right, either. He said we’d need to be seen together, out of this monstrosity of a palatial home.

All at once, I was struck with all the ways I hadn’t thought a single thing through. I was the conservative one when it came to risks. I never took them, opting for the safe and easy route through life and staying off the radar. Yet, I hadn’t put any sense of planning into telling Dante that I’d pretend to be his girlfriend. Details had to be smoothed out. Agreements and conditions had to be discussed and negotiated. We hadn’t talked about anything, and I felt stupid not to pay attention and be a smart, logical person about any of this.

I’m only human. I’d been running on fumes after my long shift, tired and spent. Then with the fear of being taken by the bikers, I’d shifted to the fuel of adrenaline to power me through the night. Once Dante kissed me and made me come, though…

I huffed out an exasperated breath and ran my fingers through the remnants of my unraveling braid.

The soft click of the door behind me was the only signal that I was now alone to let these facts sink into my brain. Not wanting to appear dumb or unthankful, I spun to see a panel of polished wood.

“Thanks,” I said anyway, too late for George to hear. I bet he wasn’t supposed to talk with the guests, anyway, being the hired help and all.

I looked at the bed, then glanced at the door open to a view of a fancy bathroom. Torn with the need to press a button for a do-over of the night, I wondered if I should give my weary brain a rest by slumping onto the mattress and passing out or if I should clean off the grime from work.

Walking through the huge bathroom, I considered how different this was from what I was used to. A shower stall separate from a wide claw-foot tub. So much lighting and ample, fluffy towels. Everything gleaming bright and clean, spotless and new. I felt like a speck of dirt in a state-of-the-art showroom.

So lost in my thoughts and awe about my lodgings, I jumped when a soft knock sounded on the door to my room.

“Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Bardot.”

I hurried out to catch a housekeeper setting a small stack of clothes down. “Nina,” I corrected.

She dipped her body lower. A curtsy. She freaking curtsied to me. I huffed a laugh and tried to wrap my head around it all.

“Please let me know if you should need anything else for the evening.” She stepped back as I lifted the corner of the folded pajama set atop a stack of similar soft garments. Pajama sets, nightgowns, even lingerie.

“Oh, this is too much,” I protested.

She backed up another step, lifting her hand in argument. “Oh, not at all. We have everything you need in this house.” With a sweet smile, she reached for the door. “Should you need anything, just use the landline and choose the button for housekeeping.”

I gawked at her, nodding dumbly as she backed out of the room—executing another curtsy—then left me standing there bewildered. The stack of clothing she’d just dropped off likely cost more than two months of tips—good tips.

My fingers felt too grimy to pick up the options and check them out. I felt too dirty after a long night of work. “Shower first,” I muttered to myself.

It would take a solid night of rest for me to properly sleep on all of this. Dante’s rescue. His extreme generosity. This enormous shift to the world of the rich, even if I was only pretending to belong in it.

As I showered, I tried not to freak out about how Cinderella-ish this was of me. It was simply too much to think about, too much to stew on. Once I cleaned up and dressed in a nightgown, I dropped into bed and drifted to sleep.

Dreaming of bikers roaring after me should’ve had me waking in the morning with restlessness, but surprisingly, I slept well.

I sat up, yawning, and wondered what the hell would happen next. It would take me a while yet to adjust, but I understood the basics. I was here to pretend to be Dante’s. It wasn’t safe for me to go home at the risk of seeing Ricky or the bikers. And Dante likely wouldn’t be here to help me settle in.

But someone else will be.

Curious if and when I would meet Eva, I got up and changed into the casual loungewear that Maura had left with the pajama selections from last night.

No sooner than I dressed and brushed my teeth and hair had someone knocked on the door.

“Yes?” I winced as I went to open it. Should I reply? Just open it? I wasn’t sure of the protocol. I was a guest, yet not?

I opened the doors to see a slender brunette. She stared at me, deadpan and unimpressed, and flicked her long, shiny locks of chestnut over her shoulder. Wearing a form fitting dress, she looked on point. Makeup professionally applied. Hair expertly styled. Skin flawless and glowing. And her dress and shoes were straight off a model—with a model’s figure to boot.

“You’re Nina?” she asked.

While she didn’t say it with too much snark, I caught a hint of her annoyance.

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