Page 71 of A Thin Line

“Oh, good. But we do have to eat all of it before Mr. Whittier comes home.”

My eyes grew wide because there was no way we could eat that entire pan of mac and cheese. Fortunately, there were only two sandwiches, one for each of us, but I didn’t have room for everything she’d made. “I, uh—”

When she laughed again, I knew her mood was light again. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’m teasing. Greg’s wife said they’d take the leftovers, so I’ll run them up to her after lunch.”

“She’s here right now?” When Edna nodded, I asked, “What does she do?” I imagined an agoraphobic woman hiding behind the doors of her self-imposed prison.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. “She teaches online classes. But she goes out for a run every morning and she has a fairly busy social life, so she’s away most afternoons.” It was a testament to how big the mansion was that I hadn’t run across her yet. Edna whispered, “But I know they’re wanting to get pregnant—so that might happen soon. Ah, it would be wonderful to have a baby in this house again. I do miss babies.”

I remembered then that Edna had told me once she hadn’t been able to have children—so it made sense that she would need to get her baby fix from someone else. And I wondered if she was considering being a nanny to their child when the time came. Then again, they would probably want to move into their own home to raise their child. At least, that was what I would have wanted. I wouldn’t want to live in a cold, gargantuan mansion when I could rear my child in a warm, cozy home full of love and laughter, even if it wasn’t museum-sized.

As I took a bite of the scrumptious mac and cheese, Edna asked, “So what was it you did?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, knowing exactly what she meant.

“Mr. Whittier wouldn’t tell me, but he was hoppin’ mad. He said you’d violated several terms of your contract and that was why he was punishing you.”

I didn’t want Edna blaming herself for my knowing where those keys were, so I decided to skip that part. “I was snooping in the east wing.”

Her eyes grew wide. “I don’t have a contract like yours, and even I know not to go there.”

“But why? There’s nothing there.”

“I think that’s the point.” She got up and walked over to the sink where she rinsed the crumbs off her plate.

“I don’t get what you mean.”

She started to say something but caught herself. Then she came back to the table and nearly whispered. “Mr. Whittier would prefer to forget that wing ever existed—and, because he can’t remove it from the mansion or board it up without it looking ridiculous, he has locked it away figuratively.”

No…quite literally, but I wasn’t about to split hairs with her. “I don’t understand why.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Edna sat across from me again and twirled her glass of iced tea. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that, love. That’s one of those things you’ll have to talk to Mr. Whittier about.”

And that was something I refused to do—because I wasn’t going to ask him for anything else—not even information, especially when it would mean getting a glimpse inside his head. I was done allowing myself to care for that man.

At breakfast Tuesday morning, I came downstairs dressed for more physical labor—a pink tank top and jeans. Although the work downstairs could be grueling at times, it was only on occasion—and only when I chose to do something physically demanding. Although scrubbing tiles wasn’t anything like digging a hole or carrying heavy rocks, it had proven to be hard on my knees and back.

But I wouldn’t let him know it was getting to me.

When I came into the kitchen, he asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you’re dressed for a day on the beach.”

“In jeans? I’m dressed for whatever punishment you have ready for me today.”

Edna slipped a cup of coffee on the table in front of me as I stared at Sinclair, waiting for his response. His eyes and mouth had softened since our last meeting and I once again got that feeling of electricity between us. It didn’t hurt that, when he glanced at my bare collarbone, his eyes felt predatory. “Your punishment is over. But if you breach the contract again, rest assured it will be far worse.”

Again, my mind went back to Friday—and it came out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Like a spanking?”

It was as if he was considering it, and it was all I could do to keep from licking my lips. What the hell was wrong with me? I understood why I felt defiant—but why did I want him in that way? Why couldn’t I stop myself?

He arched an eyebrow. “Worse.”

Either Edna hadn’t heard or she was pretending she hadn’t when she placed a plate with an omelet and an English muffin in front of me. If I hadn’t been so hungry, I would have simply stared at him, daring him to say something else.

But he didn’t have to be dared. Once Edna had returned to the sink, he said, “Disobey me again and there will be hell to pay.” My skin heated up, wanting to discover exactly what that would entail. But before I could come up with a retort, he stood, picking up his phone and planner. “You can return to your regular duties today. Edna, call me with a report after lunch.”

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