Page 57 of Sinner's Vows

“Ariana, it’s just me. Relax.”

As my eyes adjust to the light, I take in the short, curvy woman with the crop of wild grey-streaked curls.Portia. She’s holding a stack of…laundry? I exhale in relief. She hasn’t fired warning shots at me yet.Phew.

“Dominic won’t be happy,” she says as she walks over to where I’m struggling up. “He said you need to sleep in.”

“What time is it?”

“Seven. Way too early for someone who needs to sleep in.” She purses her lips in a reprimanding line, but there’s a smilethere, too. “Ah, that boy. When Dominic looks after a woman, he looks after a woman. Is that his T-shirt? I bet it’s his favorite. Wouldn’t let you sleep in my supermarket clothes without having washed them, hmm? Knew it. I would have stayed to do the laundry yesterday, but he was busy, and I didn’t want to be out of line, you know—” She breaks off. “Anyways. Slept well?”

“Hmm-hmm.” I’m a bit dazed. The ties Dominic had expertly fastened around my arm have loosened to such an extent that they’ve bundled at my wrist. I quietly tug at them, not wanting Portia to notice, but by the glint in her eye, I’m not hiding anything from her soon.

“Not to worry. I got a guard to do the laundry and dry it, too, so now it’s all folded and ready for you.” She puts the stack of clothes on the bed.

“Thank you.” Right on top is a blush pink satin robe. What was she thinking when she got methat?

“You want to try fall asleep again?”

“No.” I won’t, not now she’s chatted me awake. There’s no sign of Dominic, which is totally for the better.

“Come then, you look like you need some coffee. A proper one. Not the stuff they sell at shops here. I make the best cappuccino this side of the Atlantic.”

This makes me smile. Of course she does. I push the ties to the side and get up, and as I do, Dominic’s pajama shorts slip, and I have to catch them. “Oops.”

“Why not put on your own? It’s right on top.”

“Maybe a shower first?”

“No, you’re not going anywhere this early.”

With a shrug, I go through the first few layers and find the matching pink summer sleep set. “May I?”

I’m under no illusions here. Portia didn’t come all this way to make small talk with me and take care of laundry. I bet she’s got a gun shoved into the back of her jeans or something.

“Sure, go ahead.”

I go to the bathroom where I change, feel whether the bandage over my bullet wound still holds, wash my face and brush my teeth, and manage my bedhead into a messy bun.Not dressing up. Not dressing up at all.

“Is Dominic around?” I ask, walking back into the bedroom.

Portia has opened the curtains, and through the windows, there’s the beautiful view over the manicured gardens. She’s busy collecting the ties on the bed, muttering,“Ruined, all ruined.”

“He’s probably in the gym,” she says as she puts the silky pile on the chair.

I step in and help her make the bed. He’sinthe gym, notatthe gym, which means he’s still here, in the home gym. So much money on display. I’m not used to it at all.

When we’re done, she opens the bedroom door and leads the way to the kitchen.

I don’t miss the guard who sits two doors down. He stands as we walk past. Portia only nods at him in acknowledgement. All the doors are still closed, but it doesn’t feel so strange anymore. I’m building a map in my head of the house for future reference. For now, I’ll let this tide sweep me into whichever direction it chooses to take, observing, adapting.

It’s quiet as Portia makes the cappuccino. She’s relaxed; I’m slowly tensing up again. There seems to be more eyes around than last night. Maybe I was so out of it I didn’t notice, but this Code Red calls for a lot of security. I’m out of my depth, but to be honest, I’ve been from the start.

“Here.” She pushes the coffee in my direction. “Drink up, and we’ll go find Dominic. I need instructions from him. By the sounds of it, we’re going to still tear the house down today.”

“Okay.” I cautiously take a first sip, but it’s the perfect temperature and delicious, like a sip of home. Emotionoverwhelms me, because here I am, having another thing I thought I’d never have again.

It’s a quick coffee, and when I’m done, we make our way through the house to the other side and the additions I saw when we drove into the property. We walk through the home gym which is so well-equipped, it looks like something from a luxury private sports club, but Dominic isn’t there.

“He must be swimming,” Portia says as she pushes open a sliding door between the gym and what looks like a twenty-five-meter-long pool, enclosed in a conservatory-style glass house. It’s magnificent, with a high ceiling with exposed rafters and glass doors designed to open up to the outside world in summer and keep in the heat in winter. The pool is at least four lanes wide, and in one of them, Dominic is swimming in the opposite direction.

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