Page 38 of The Hitch
"Miss," the woman Dante assigned to me whispers. "Mr. Lyons has requested your presence for dinner tonight."
I smile under the clay face mask. "Sounds great."
Dickhead Dante replaced my discount outlet purse with some leather designer bag and filled my wallet with cash and a new credit card. No idea what the limit is, but based on my spending spree today? It's got to be in the multi-thousands. Even though he already replaced my wardrobe, and most of it is entirely my style, I want to have clothes and shoes that I pick for myself. And the city's best sushi didn't come cheap, either.
Helena, the imposing woman who's accompanied me all day, rarely says a word. I've tried to entice her into conversations, you know, girl talk. But she doesn't seem interested. Maybe she's just super professional. Or maybe working with Roman, king of silence, rubs off on you after a while.
"You sure you don't want to join in on this?" I mumble, stifling a delighted groan as the spa worker massages my neck. "It's on me. You'll love it."
"No, thank you."
I crack an eye and look up at the spa worker. She shrugs, and so do I.
So, Helena stands there, keeping vigilant watch for the remainder of the two-hour session. She follows silently as they shuffle me to the salon chair, observing as my hair is blown dry and styled to the nines.
I look good. I look like a lethal bitch. Being a rich asshole's wife has perks, as I'm coming to realize. After thanking the spa staff profusely and paying, we leave, and Helena slides into the driver's seat of the big black SUV. The back seat is full of my shopping bags.
"Is there anywhere else you'd like to go?" Helena asks.
I hum thoughtfully. "No, not today. Can we go back home?"
Helena doesn't answer, just shifts the vehicle into drive and expertly weaves through the city's traffic. She's impressively competent. From the corner of my eye, I watch her calmly maneuver the massive SUV. Her strawberry blonde hair isslicked back into an immaculate bun, not a strand out of place. I don't think she's even wearing makeup—her skin is just naturally flawless. Damn. I suck my teeth in jealousy, and swivel my head to look out the window.
We're nearing Dante's home—my home, I'm still getting used to that fact—in Old City. I'm still not accustomed to the casual display of wealth in this area. The sidewalks are perfectly maintained and smooth, without a speck of trash blowing in the wind. It's weird. I always kind of liked the monikerFilthadelphia. A gritty city for gritty people.
Though it seems that even the highest of the upper class has some grit, too. The tunnel under this house is tangible proof.
Helena helps me bring in the bags and sets them carefully on the kitchen counter. Marie left us sliced fruit on two plates, perfectly chilled. I don't know where she goes when she disappears. She's a lovely woman, if a little quiet. It seems Dante has preferences for his staff.
I aim to change that. I don't want to be surrounded by silent yes-men.
Patting the bar stool beside me, I invite Helena to sit and eat with me. She hesitates for a second but shrugs and slides into the stool.
"So, where are you from?" I casually ask, picking up an orange wedge.
"Connecticut."
"Did you like it there?" I look over and smile with what I hope is warmth.
"No." Helena pokes at a cantaloupe cube, averting her gaze from me. Great, one-word answers.
"How did you meet Roman?" I don't want to be annoying, but at the same time, I'd like to know the person I'm spending my days with while Dante is gone.
"We met in the military—the Navy. We were on the same ship for a time." She gets up and retrieves a glass of water for herself, then gestures to me. I politely decline. "After a few years, I decided to leave the service and use the GI Bill for college."
Oh fuck yes, this is what I want. Real conversation. "What was your major?"
"Biology." She smiles. "I wanted to be a scientist."
"What happened?"
"Have you seen many job listings for scientists?" She cocks an eyebrow at me. I shake my head. "Besides, private security pays well."
"I bet," I sigh. I only got a few semesters of community college under my belt before I had to join the workforce. Mom's nursing job paid enough for us to scrape by, but my income gave us a tiny bit of breathing room. Especially since that asshole, Charlie, got laid off during the financial crisis. And he never went back to work, not really. Mom really hit the jackpot when she cashed in on his life insurance policy.
Helena's phone pings in her pocket, and she furrows her brow as she reads. "Mr. Lyons will be home soon, with Roman. May I assist you with anything until then?"
Ah, there's the professionalism. Damn. I'll get her talking again tomorrow, I hope. "Could you help me bring the bags up to the bedroom?"
