Page 28 of Red

“Have you found her grandmother yet?” Erik asked.

The tension in Nico’s stare softened. “No.”

“Keep looking.” Erik nodded and left Nico stewing in the office.

* * *

Melinda hadher hip pressed against the counter, a steaming cup of tea cradled in her hands while she talked quietly with Marianne.

“Let me make lunch.” Melinda grinned. Her genuine, happy smile forced a deep-rooted twist in Erik’s gut. What would it feel like to have that smile aimed at him?

“Absolutely not.” Marianne waved Melinda away from her prep station. “I do the cooking; you do the eating.”

Erik paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt yet. This was the most relaxed he’d seen her.

“I can cook, you know. I lived on my own for two years, and when I was living with my grandparents, I cooked for them all the time.” A brief shadow crossed Melinda’s features, but she tried to hide it with a sip of her tea.

“I don’t doubt your skills, but if you do the cooking, where does that leave me?” Marianne turned a stern frown on Melinda. “Out of a job, that’s where.”

“He’d fired you for letting me cook one meal?” Melinda asked with wide eyes.

Marianne was the only member of his parents’ staff who had stayed on after his parents passed away. It had only been natural for her to move into the new house when his brothers made the move.

“Of course, I would,” Erik boasted, making his presence known.

Marianne put her hands on her hips. He’d become immune to her annoyed glares when he was in high school. She was no more dangerous than a house fly.

“You would not,” Marianne announced. “Who would do the laundry and the bed making? Not you and your brothers, for sure.” She wagged a finger at him.

Erik raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Melinda would do it.”

Marianne looked over her shoulder at Melinda then back at him. “No.” She shook her head.

“No?” Erik had to stifle his laughter, lest Melinda got the impression he could be persuaded by a little objection.

“No.”

“Well, I am pretty good with laundry. I never mix up the dark colors with the whites.” A playful smile tugged at Melinda’s lips, bringing a lightness to his chest.

“You two are trying to get me riled.” Marianne tsked. “If you want to help with lunch, Melinda, you can prepare the salad.”

“Actually, I need her for a few minutes.” Erik placed his fingertips on the marble countertop of the kitchen island. “Then she’s all yours to boss around as much as you’d like.”

He caught Melinda’s gaze.

Marianne, always the most observant person in a room, clapped her hands once. “I have to switch the loads in the machines. I’ll handle that, and you two can talk.”

Marianna breezed past him, out of the kitchen.

“She’s very comfortable with you,” Melinda said once they were alone.

“She should be. She practically raised me.” Erik shrugged. “She worked for my parents when I was younger.”

“She doesn’t seem that old.” Melinda’s brow furrowed

“She’s not.” Marianne’s age wasn’t the topic he wanted to discuss. He made his way around the island and collected her hands in his. He shoved the long sleeves of her shirt up.

A pale red line wrapped around both wrists. The cuffs on the post had marked her.

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