Page 5 of The Housemaid's Wedding
Enzo prefers my hair down, but having it up is more wedding appropriate. Not that there are going to be tons of photos to post all over social media, but what if my parents want to take pictures? Or have pictures of me with them?
Maybe we will get a shot of the entire family together. A family photo. I never thought that would be possible.
I finally opt to leave my hair down, deciding that the appreciative look on Enzo’s face will be worth it. I amcareful not to scald myself with the curling iron, which tends to be a bit finicky, and after about half an hour, I have some pretty decent waves going on in my usually pin-straight blond hair. It will be straight again by the evening, but I only need it to last for the next three hours.
As I’m coming out of the bathroom, my phone is ringing where I last left it, which is on the coffee table in the living room. Much like the rest of the furniture in the apartment, we got our coffee table from the curb outside our building, and there’s a book under the left leg to keep it from wobbling. I snatch my phone off the table just before the caller hangs up, and my heart sinks.
It’s that same 718 number.
But on the plus side, Enzo isn’t here to overhear the conversation. So I can feel free to give this guy a piece of my mind without anyone else catching wind of the fact that I am being threatened. I can dish it right back as well as I can take it.
I take a calming breath as I click on the green button to take the call. “Hello?”
“Hello, Millie.” It’s that same harsh whisper, like he’s disguising his voice. “Or should I saygoodbye?”
I roll my eyes. “Why would you say goodbye?”
“Because,” he says, “today is going to be the last day of your life.”
“Oh, is that so?” I shoot back, playing along for the moment.
“It’s what you deserve,” he hisses at me. “After the lies you fed to my wife. You ruined my marriage, you bitch.”
I was right—it’s a disgruntled husband. I’m not even the tiniest bit surprised. I have helped a lot of women escape terrible marriages, and along the way, I have made some enemies. It goes with the territory. I wonder who this one is.
“And who is your wife?” I prompt him. I’ll feel better if I know who this guy is.
“My wife was a whore,” he spits out. “She was lucky to have me, butyouconvinced her otherwise.”
God, this guy is a piece of work.
“I’m sure she’s much better off without you,” I say calmly. “And I suggest you accept it and try to grow from the experience.” I add, “And also, leave me the hell alone.”
“Grow from the experience!” he bursts out. “You have a lot of nerve, Millie Calloway! Women like you are the worst type of people. And I promise, you’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”
I would bet my life savings that this guy is all talk. Of course, it wouldn’t be much of a risk since my bank account is mostly empty, especially after buying that blue dress that no longer fits me. “I don’t think so.”
“Think whatever you’d like,” he says, “but I have a question for you, Millie.”
“Fine.” I grit my teeth, playing along for another second before I hang up on him and block his number. “What’s your question?”
His voice takes on an amused edge. “Have you checked your coat closet since your boyfriend left this morning?”
4
Haveyou checked your coat closet since your boyfriend left this morning?
My stomach flips as my gaze lifts to the small closet across the room from me, which contains our coats and boots. The door to the closet is closed. “What did you say?”
“Your coat closet,” he repeats. “I’ve got agreatview of you.”
“You’re lying,” I choke out.
“I’m not, Millie.” His voice is almost singsong. Teasing me. “But if you’re so sure, why don’t you check?”
Before he can taunt me further, I press the red button on my phone to end the call. I lower it from my ear with a trembling hand, wishing I had hung up a minute sooner. I had been so certain this guy was harmless and just trying to scare me. All talk.
But how did he know Enzo left the apartment?
