Page 23 of His Pretty Little Duet

Benji liked this bikini.

"Don't forget this." Henchman Jeeves appears, passing Jasmine a white paper sheet, before walking up the stone-step waterfall and sitting on the horrible wrought-iron chair. He's overlooking the garden, as well as me. My own personal watchdog.A guest, my arse.

I nod to the sheet Jasmine is staring at. "What's that?"

She passes it to me. "A menu. Pick what you like. You need to eat. Yesterday you skipped two meals."

Clay Butcher's words find their way into my mind again."She doesn't eat. Hardly sleeps."

It's not something I ever noticed, but three meals a day wasn't on my radar. As for the perpetual insomnia, that's a new ailment.

Sitting up, I cross my legs on the pool lounger, staring at the menu. I worry my lower lip while Jasmine waits impatiently, longingly. It makes me want to recoil, feeling like an imposture. I scan the menu even with discomfort twisting up inside me. I never wanted this kind of treatment, and I don't trust free shows of generosity, but I also cringe at being seen as ungrateful. Basically, I have no stance to take that will ebb this feeling. So, I touch my stomach, imagining the kid growing inside me, reminding myself this is about him.

It isn't about you, Fawn.

I can deal with that.

Jasmine scoots in closer to me. "Come on, they make pretty great food here. I mean, not like missile stars, but pretty close if you ask me, and I've eaten at a lot of fine restaurants."

Henchman Jeeves makes himself known by shuffling the chair on the stone veranda above us. "Michelin Stars."

"What?" she calls up.

"I'm not being picky." I hand her the sheet. She wants it, can’t stop looking at it, as though her longing gaze has telekinetic powers. "I'd foam at the mouth over two-minute noodles."

Henchman Jeeves laughs. "Please don't foam at the mouth; it involves a lot of paperwork."

When Jasmine lets a quick chuckle break free, taking the menu and studying the options, I relax.

"I don't know what two-minute noodles are," she says. "But I doubt they are on the menu."

"I lived off two-minute noodles for three months," I admit.

"Well, Mr Butcher said you're to have three meals a day here," Henchman Jeeves states. "And I don't think he would approve of two-minute noodles."

Here.How long will I be here? I look back at Jasmine, catching a little roll of her eyes in response to Henchman Jeeves's comment.

"Well, you pick for me then," I say to her, watching her face light up like New Year's Eve fireworks over the bridge at Storm River.

"Okay! Well, you should alternate between honey oats and an omelette for breakfast, but it looks like he won't let you have bacon?—"

"It's processed," Henchman Jeeves calls down.

I gaze up at him, lifting my hand to umbrella my eyes, the sun overhead creating a glowing hue around us. "Do you like that I have a mandated feeding schedule?"

"Oi, you up there, you're missing your calling as a house-wife." She tries to dodge a tablecloth that comes hurtling at her, but it hits her shoulder. She brushes it to the side.

I smile, liking their playfulness. We are an odd threesome. We'd make a good joke. A teen mum, a thirty-year-old butler on steroids, and a peppy maid walk into a bar?—

"As I was saying," she continues. "Right, lunch. Alternate between sandwiches. They are all good.Dinner,I'd go with..." She clicks her tongue in contemplation, flipping the page over to view the other side, before realising it's blank and flipping it back again, the skin on her nose slowly bunching up on the bridge. "Eww. He is making you have fish. Salmon or Cod."

"High in omega threes," Henchman Jeeves chimes in again, still the hint of amusement dancing through his words. "And I think a feeding schedule is a good thing for you. I read in a magazine the other day that malnourished isnotthe new sexy."

I laugh a little at that, slumping back on the pool sunbed, stomach down and arms cushioning my head. Twisting my face to the manicured gardens, I find the two cute gardeners I saw a few days ago trimming roses, both their eyes meeting mine, small smiles playing on their lips. They exchange words, eyeing me intermittently while they slice the ends of the roses off, leaving woody stems. Perfectly good roses, too. I wonder if they will end up in a vase inside, or if they are simply lessening the load, allowing lower branches to fill out. I stare a little too long. When the one with blond hair catches my gaze again, a blush creeps up the nape of my neck, squeezing the column with warmth.

From here, he sort of looks like Benji.

"That's Robbie and Lee," Jasmine says, causing me to dart my eyes in the opposite direction, her perceptive demeanour a bit unnerving at times.

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