Page 22 of The Good Girl Effect
With a hint of sadness, I hand the man a fifty-euro note and turn to see if Bea has picked out her artwork yet. But when I glance down at the area where she should be and find it empty, panic explodes inside me like a bomb going off.
My head snaps in every direction. “Beatrice,” I call. “Beatrice!”
Dashing out of the stall, I glance back and forth down the marketplace in desperate search of her. How could I have let herout of my sight? What have I done? I’ve only been on the job two weeks, and I’ve already lost her. She was right here.
“Camille!” her tiny voice shouts for me.
Spinning around, I find her standing with her arms latched around a beautiful woman’s neck in a loving embrace. Heaving a deep sigh, it feels like all the blood in my veins begins to slow, as if losing her for just a second has completely rewired my entire nervous system.
“You scared me to death,” I say as I rush over toward her, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the woman. “Where did you go?”
“I’m sorry.” She pouts. “But I saw my tante Elizabeth.” She looks up at the woman, who gives me a stern expression.
“Your aunt?” I ask.
The woman puts a hand out toward me. “Je m’appelle Elizabeth. Je suis la sœur de Jack.”
My eyes widen as I take in the woman before me. This is Jack’s sister?
And not only that…but she speaks perfect French.
I don’t see a resemblance, but she is as stunning as he is handsome. She’s slender but short with dark brown, nearly black hair pulled up into a tight bun at the back of her head. She’s wearing a loose crop top that hangs off her shoulder, exposing what looks like a sports bra underneath. She has a Louis Vuitton handbag slung over her right shoulder. She is exquisitely beautiful.
Bea did tell me she had an aunt who was a ballerina. I put out my hand to shake hers.
“Je m’appelle Camille,” I say, introducing myself.
“You’re her new nanny?” she asks.
Her French is so flawless that it sounds native, which I find slightly odd, considering Jack doesn’t speak it at all.
There’s skepticism in her expression as she regards me.
“Yes, I’m her new nanny. I just started two weeks ago.”
“And losing her already,” she says in a snappy remark.
“She ran off,” I reply defensively.
“Well, it’s about time my brother finally hired someone,” she says.
Your brother, I think. I’d love to pick her brain to understand that man. I wonder if he is as much an enigma to her as he is to me. Is he cold and impassive to her too?
“Is Jack here?” she asks, glancing around.
I let out a huff of a laugh. “No.” The idea that Jack would venture out with me and Bea is downright comical. Her brow shoots upward at my outburst. I don’t want to talk badly about Jack in front of Bea, so I casually reply, “He’s very busy at work.”
She slowly nods as if she understands. “Yes, he is.”
“Tante Elizabeth works with Papa,” Bea says with adorable innocence.
My eyes flash over to Elizabeth as they widen. “I thought you were a dancer,” I say.
“Part-time,” she replies. “Jack and I do work together as well.”
All I can think about is that club, wondering where precisely this woman, his sister, works while he’s in the basement petting women on their knees and doing God knows what else.
“But we don’t need to talk about work anymore,” she says, looking down at Bea with a wink.
