Page 22 of The Sound in Silence

“Morning, Mrs. Rossi.”

I jump, but in more than just surprise at the voice suddenly appearing. Also, from that name. It’s the first time someone’s referred to me by my married name.

I don’t like it. They should never use it again.

With a stiff back, I look away from the fish tank and to the stout woman Erico introduced to me yesterday. Carlotta, the housekeeper. She’s smiling, obviously trying to ease the tension. It’s not her fault I despise my new name, so I try to force my lips to move into responding. Instead, I think a grimace is the best I manage.

“You must be hungry. I’ll show you to the kitchen, if you’d like. Make you some breakfast.”

I nod because that’s precisely where I was hoping to find. She turns with a small hand wave for me to follow, so I do, walking down a short, white hallway connecting the sitting area to a large kitchen, filled with shiny stainless-steel appliances.

“You like fish?” she asks suddenly, glancing over her shoulder.

I nod.

“Erico too. Even as a young boy, he was always bugging his parents to buy him some. When he was six, he even tried for a pet shark. That request was vetoed.” She chuckles fondly and switches on the tap, washing her hands.

I hate that he and I have that in common. Not wanting a pet shark, but our appreciation of water creatures.

Carlotta continues sharing pleasant childhood memories of Erico, like this is supposed to make me feel something for the man. “As if he didn’t get the hint, he then asked for a dolphin when he was ten.”

I snort, once again, pushing pleasant thoughts of him away. His likes and dislikes shouldn’t matter to me.

“You can sit.” She nods to the high chairs pushed into the granite island.

I’m still hovering in the doorway, cautious to place myself in all this…this light. The kitchen is so white, it nearly reflects the massive dump of sunlight coming in from the half-wall of windows, including a door obviously leading to the back of the house.

While lovely, it makes me miss the Corsetti mansion. As much as the design of this place is prettier, the darkness and more traditional style of Nico’s house meant it was easier to blend in with the shadows.

“Alternatively, the dining room is right through there, if you’d like to have your meal there instead.” She gestures to a doorway opposite of me. Through it, I catch sight of a long table. Too formal.

I point to the counter, hoping she understands my meaning.I’ll eat here.

She smiles and her dress makes a swishing noise as she heads for the very wide fridge behind her. “What would you like to eat? We have traditional breakfast foods—cereal, fruit, bagels, and the sort. I can also whip you up some homemade waffles.”

Waffles. Things are already seeming a bit better by the prospect. I nod eagerly in agreement, causing her to laugh and head for another large cupboard, where she begins pulling out ingredients for batter.

“Got it. Waffles it is. Coming right up.”

As she busies herself, I finally claim the chair closest to the door and watch her work. Looking from the kind housekeeper to the windows to my right, to the outdoors. Out there, I’d have an uninterrupted view of the body of water, and I make it my goal to go out there soon.

When I hear another set of footsteps come up behind me, I curve my back, hunch my shoulders and lower my head, aiming to hide from the newcomer.

Of course, the greeting of, “Mrs. Rossi,” indicates I’ve failed.

The bodyguard from last night, Sebastian, steps up beside the counter, resting his hands lazily on the edge. His youthful charm is infectious, and I smile tightly to be polite.

“Good morning.”

I manage a small wave in return.

“After you eat, I can take you around the mansion and grounds, if you’d like,” he offers, to which I nod my agreement. If I’m not living my life locked in a bedroom, it’d be smart to know my way around.

My phone vibrates at the same time Sebastian moves away, and based on his steps, he wanders back to the doorway. Maybe even out of the kitchen entirely, but I don’t check. I pull out my phone, assuming it’s Della—who I’m surprisedhasn’tmessaged again yet—but my mood takes an even deeper plummet at the name flashing over my screen.

Erico

Good morning, Ariella.

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