Page 16 of Lily

She repeated this over and over in her head as if she could will it to happen.

Her Master interrupted her silent pleading. “Please see our guest to the front door, girl. Don’t linger. You have work to attend to.”

She was shaking and nearly giddy as she walked her Master’s friend to the front door. She said all the right things as courteously as always and blew out a breath as she shut the door behind him.

How long did she have before he returned for the phone? Minutes? An hour? Longer? Maybe he would go other places and later not recall where he might have lost it. She could only hope.

Chapter Eight

The rest of the day was long, and Roselia was on pins and needles. She wanted that phone. Her Master, however, never left her alone. He had her move to his bedroom to clean after lunch and sat in the armchair by the window, reading a book while she did so.

In the afternoon, he accompanied her to the kitchen and set up his laptop on the table, working while she cooked dinner.

She was losing faith as the evening wore on. At eight o’clock he came into the kitchen and declared he needed a cup of warm milk before retiring. He plopped himself down at the table and waited while she heated it in a pan as he preferred and poured it into his favorite saucer at the exact temperature—just before scalding.

He would have to wait a few minutes before he could drink it. He was also engrossed in something on his phone.

Absently, he spoke to her without glancing in her direction. “You may go to bed, girl. Please turn off the lights in the study before you go up.”

Her heart beat so hard she thought he could surely hear it. She hurried to the study, dug her hand into the cushions, found the phone, and turned off the lights. She would have to walk past her Master to get to the back stairs, but she did so, holding the phone at her opposite hip as silently as possible, and didn’t breathe until she hit the stairs.

When she reached her room, she hurried to tuck the phone under her mattress, praying he was not yet watching her. By the time she showered and finished her evening routine without him showing up at her door, she knew she’d gotten away with her ruse.

She was so close. Several hurdles remained, of course. She would need to stay awake long enough to feel confident her Master was no longer watching her. The phone would need to still have battery life. And Marco would need to answer.

Hell, that wasn’t all. Marco would need to remember her and care enough to find her. It was a lot. It was also her only hope.

She forced her breathing to slow and did her best to pretend she was sound asleep, not daring to move a muscle until midnight. Even then, she reached her arm very slowly under the mattress to pull the phone out.

After tugging it under the covers so the light wouldn’t be too bright, she pushed a button on the side. It lit up. Thank God. And that’s when she realized she had hit a road block. It needed facial recognition.

Shit. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Fuck.

The keypad popped up when the device failed to recognize her face. She stared at it. Fuck. There were millions of possible codes he could use. She figured she would only get to try three times before she got locked out.

She’d never felt as defeated as she felt at that moment. All she could do was try anything. With a shaky finger, she hit one, two, three, four and then nearly fainted when the phone opened. “What an idiot,” she muttered.

She grinned at the same time. After tapping the phone icon, she quickly dialed the only number that would give her any hope of surviving this hell she was living in. And then she held her breath.

It rang five times and went to voicemail. “You’ve reached Marco Gallo. Please leave a message at the beep.”

She was disappointed but not surprised. Why would he pick up the phone for an unknown number after midnight? It was possible he had it on silent mode. She hung up, thought for a moment, and then dialed again. This time, she would leave a message.

On the second ring, he answered. “Hello? Who’s calling?” His voice was sleep-rough and annoyed, but nothing had ever sounded so sweet in her life.

“Marco,” she whispered, not risking being heard and praying her Master was asleep.

“Roselia?” The rise in his pitch was musical.

Tears came to her eyes. She didn’t have time for tears, though. “Please help me,” she whispered.

“Putting my pants on now, sweetheart. Where are you?”

More tears. “I don’t know. Oh, God. I don’t know. I’m in Denver. That’s all I know. An estate. It’s big, like Mr. Santo’s. That’s all I know.” How would he ever find her? This was hopeless. It was her only chance.

Wait. She knew her owner’s name. Wouldn’t that help? “My Master’s name is Leonardo Vanderbilt, I think.”

“Leo Vanderbilt?” he nearly shouted. “That old fuck? I know him. I can find his address. Don’t hang up.”

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