by Layla Frost
Seriously, who the heck lives like this?
The stone path continued to a small building that had the same color scheme and style as the house.
“What’s that?” I asked Vera.
“Pool house.”
That’s the…
No.
A pool house is the size of a shed. That’s a condo that would cost a few grand a month.
“You know how to swim?” Ms. Vera asked, sitting on a patio couch under the shade of an overhang.
“Yup.”
When we’d lived in NYC, my grandparents had taken me to the YMCA all the time.
“Have fun then.” She pulled a floppy hat out of her Mary Poppins bag of tricks and put it on before taking out a book with a shirtless, kilted man on the cover.
Jumping into the pool, I swam laps until my lungs burned and my arms ached. I floated around for a while before going to check out the waterfall. When I inched through the cascade, I expected to hit a pool wall, but there was a small alcove instead. I moved farther in before banging my knee on the underwater stone bench that curved around the space.
Sitting, I stretched my legs out and enjoyed the cool mist that came from the waterfall.
Just a teeny tiny bit better than the pool at the Y, with its fungusy mats, annoying kids, and speedo-clad old men.
Going back out into the pool, I felt like a mermaid in a lagoon. It was a fantasyland out of an epic fairy tale, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the story would end soon.
And, contrary to most fairy tales, there’d be no happily ever after.
I used that to keep my walls up.
This isn’t my life.
This is a reprieve from hell.
And it’ll end.
Everything ends.
Until it did, though, I’d savor the paradise for what it was.
Temporary.
CHAPTER NINE
Normal
Maximo
“SHE’S BRIGHT.”
I glanced up at the man sitting across my desk who was wasting my time by telling me things I already knew. “I’m aware.”
Peter Reed ran one of the top private schools in the nation. He also had a penchant for high-stakes cards, top-shelf liquor, and high-class call girls. And he used the school’s money to fund his habit. He usually made back what he borrowed before anyone noticed it was gone, but a string of bad luck had him over his head with the school and me. Lucky for him, he was of use.
I didn’t know how he explained the new online student, and I didn’t care. That was his problem.
Peter flipped through a leather-bound notebook. “It’s no surprise she’s behind with as often as she’s moved around. She missed a lot of school before officially leaving halfway through tenth grade.”
That wasn’t news to me.
According to the file Cole had found, the education department in Texas had made a half-assed effort when she’d become truant more often than not, but after a short time, her case had fallen through the cracks.
“Did she say why?” I asked, something no amount of Cole’s research could drag up.
“She didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”
“What else?” I asked.
“For the four core subjects, I combined chunks of placement exams ranging from eighth to twelfth grade so I could get an idea of where she was. The good news is, she didn’t score as poorly as I’d expected. World and US History were strong.” His brows lowered. “She did exceptionally well on ancient civilizations, which was surprising.”
Since I’m the one who loaded her iPad with the dullest books I could find, including multiple on the topic, I’m not surprised.
“Her English scores were off the charts. She could pass both courses today with ease. Actually, she would likely pass some college courses. Her comprehension is great, her writing skills aren’t fine-tuned but they’re good, and, as I said, she’s bright. She can piece together what she doesn’t know.”
“What about science and math?”
“In science, if she could use common sense to figure out, she did fine. Earth Science topics were done well since she’d completed ninth grade, but Chemistry and Biology weren’t as strong. A lot is knowledge that can only come from doing the specific research, experiments, and memorizations. If she passed, it would be just barely. But that’s a big if.” His eyes darted to where Marco stood by the door then back to me. He fidgeted with some papers and cleared his throat.
Growing impatient, I bit out, “What?”
“She’s, uh, very behind in math. She can’t use common sense and accrued knowledge to solve problems. It’s all formula based. Rigid. If you don’t know the operations, it’s impossible. Online lessons will help, but it won’t be enough.”
“Teach her then.”
He cleared his throat again. “I can handle getting her caught up in the sciences, but math isn’t my strength, either.”
That’s not surprising given how often he loses at the tables.
“I can recommend some tutors, ones I think could be bought. But I don’t have the ability to teach her what she needs.”
“I’ve got it handled,” I said with a sigh.
“She needs to pass the subject to graduate.”
“She will. Is that all?”
Standing, he handed me a printout. “Here’s a supply list she’ll need.”
I set it to the side and nodded.
“I’ll begin sending her online resources and video lessons when I get to my office. And I’ll be back Saturday morning to work with her.”
As he left, I picked up my cell.
Me: How’d you like a promotion?
Ash: The only position above mine is yours, and you couldn’t pay me enough to take on that headache. So what’s the promotion?
Me: Math tutor.
Ash had a gift for numbers. His wasn’t as advanced as Rain Man, but if he were a gambling man, I’d ban him from my casinos.
If anyone could get Juliet caught up, it was Ash.
The bastard.
Ash: Does that mean I’m no longer banned from being around her?
I ran my hand down my face, knowing what was coming.
Me: Yes.
Ash: Good. It’s been a while since anyone’s called me a handsome goon.
Before I could respond, either to tell him he was dead or fired, he texted again.
Ash: I’ll start tomorrow after breakfast and work with her every morning, unless we have something going on.
Me: I appreciate it.
Ash: Hey, the promotion includes a big pay raise I gotta earn.
I shook my head but didn’t argue. If he got her caught up, I’d pay him a shit-ton on top of the already generous shit-ton he earned.
Me: She’s behind.
Ash: Not for long.
Ash: Now excuse me while I go piss on Shamus’ unmarked grave, the dumb asshole.
Every time I thought we’d discovered all the ways her piece of shit father had fucked up her life, another thing came along to show what a scumbag he’d been.
Guessing where she was after such a long day, I pressed the button to open my blinds before spinning my chair to look out the floor to ceiling window.
All the windows in the house were coated with a dark tint. It protected against the heat and sun damage and allowed privacy. It also meant I could watch Juliet without her knowing—a growing obsession of mine.
Just as I’d guessed, she was floating in the pool. If she didn’t have to eat and sleep, I was certain she’d spend the entire day out there.
I watched her long after I should’ve gotten back to work. Long after it became outright creepy.
And long after my body reacted in a way that it definitely should not have.
Disgusted with myself, I spun back around and closed the blinds.
But it did nothing to erase the images in my head.
Juliet
“What’s this?”
Ash pulled out the dining room chair next
to mine and sat. His brows lowered when he slowly said, “A computer.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not that poor, I’ve seen a computer before.”
Of course, not one this sleek and pretty.
He shrugged. “You’re the one who asked.”
“I meant what is it for?”
“Your schoolwork.”
“Mr. Reed said I could run the programs on the iPad.”
“And Maximo said this would be better.” Ash opened it. “It’s a Mac, so it’s synced with your iPad. If you end up doing any of the work on there, it’ll transfer onto here.”
“Cool.” I dragged my finger along the touchpad, but I had no clue what to click. Everything was different compared to a PC, especially compared to the ancient one I was used to.
Ash turned it toward him, clicked a few things, and then twisted it back. “This is the site your work will be added to. Everything can be done online and submitted.”
“Got it.”
“Any other questions, ask Cole. He’s the computer guy. I can show you how to check your email, read the news, and watch—” His words cut off abruptly.
“Netflix?” I supplied, though we both knew that was not what he’d been about to say.
“Yeah. Netflix.” He closed the computer and pushed it across the table. He replaced it with something far less exciting.
A binder filled with math worksheets.
“This may as well be Latin,” I muttered.
He handed me a graphing calculator. “That’s why I’m here.”
I lifted a brow. “You’re going to teach me how letters fit into math?”
“Yup.” He smirked. “Hey, don’t look so shocked. I’m more than my handsome-goon face.”
My jaw dropped. “What? How?”
“Pain meds make people say crazy, yet true, things.” He tapped a pencil on the worksheet. “Now show me what you can do so I know where to start.”
Then, in a dining room of a mansion that belonged to a powerful and deadly man, a goon taught me math better than any teacher I’d ever had could.
And it wasn’t torture.
_______________
Beep! Beep! Beep!
I swatted to hit snooze on my alarm clock only to hear it crash to the floor.
Jolting up, I hung my head off the bed and saw my iPad beeping away on the floor.
Nooo, my precious.
In my rush to grab it, I tumbled off the bed, landing with a hard thud.
The sitting room door slammed before my bedroom one was thrown open.
Marco, gun drawn and alert, scanned the room for whatever dastardly enemy had caused such a ruckus.
My cheeks burned red as I jumped to stand. “I, uh, fell out of bed.”
His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he slid the gun into a holster hidden beneath his suit coat. He stormed over and stuck his head into the bathroom before checking behind the curtain. “What were you trying to do?”
I held up the iPad. “Grab this from the floor without getting my lazy butt out of bed.”
He looked at the tall bed then back to the not-tall me. “Your feet wouldn’t even touch the ground, let alone your arms.”
“Hence why I fell.”
Smirking, he shook his head and checked his watch. “Why’re you up so early?”
“I wanted to get into a routine with the school stuff.”
For some reason, I expected him to call me a nerd and maybe give me a swirly in the toilet. I didn’t have a locker, but he could probably shove me in the armoire instead. He seemed like the type.
But I was wrong.
“I’ll tell Ms. Vera to start bringing your breakfast earlier,” he said. “You can’t concentrate on an empty stomach.”
Stunned by his consideration, I didn’t respond as he walked from the room.
Ohhhhkay then.
Definitely better than him glaring.
Gently tossing the iPad onto the bed, I went to shower and get ready for the day. When I opened the armoire to grab my clothes, I saw my leggings and tees were still there.
But so were new pajamas, bathing suits, bralettes, undies, and socks.
On a hunch, I checked the formerly empty closet and found tops, a few pairs of jeans, and some shorts.
For the briefest moment, it felt like too much. Like it was wrong to accept them. But clothes were a necessity, and since Maximo was the one who’d insisted I stay, it was up to him to provide them. Plus, as comfortable as leggings were, it would be nice to have some variety.
After tugging on a pair of jeans and a tee, I turned to leave when my eyes landed on the floor under the clothes.
Tucked tight against the wall, there were a pair of sparkly sandals, a pair of gray and white sneakers, and—my personal favorite—a pair of gray canvas slip-ons.
He’s trusting me with shoes.
Shoes I could run in.
I won’t, but I could.
Even though I was just going into the sitting room, I slipped on the canvas ones—unsurprised they fit perfectly.
Something about being dressed in real clothes made me happy. I felt normal.
I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but right then, I really didn’t care.
CHAPTER TEN
Code-Fucking-Red
Juliet
“I NEED A snack.”
Ash tapped the paper. “You need to solve for X.”
I didn’t feel great. I was exhausted, meh, and seriously hungry despite the bagel and fruit I’d had for breakfast.
“My ex can solve his own problems. I need a snack,” I repeated.
Shaking his head, he stood. “Let’s go see what Freddy has stashed.”
Eagerly following him down the hall and through a doorway, I was stupidly excited to check out the kitchen.
My excitement was warranted.
It looked right out of a restaurant. There were oversized appliances, shiny surfaces, and stacks of different sized pots, pans, and other utensils. The setup was overkill for the handful of people who were usually around.
We turned a corner to see a man stirring something in a pot.
“Ay, Freddy,” Ash said. “We’ve come for snacks.”
The man turned and did a double take when he saw me, and I probably did one, too.
I’d expected Mr. Freddy to look like Chef Boyardee or the French chef from The Little Mermaid—with the thin mustache and everything.
But Freddy was in his mid-twenties—maybe a little older—and heavily tattooed. He looked like the hotshot chefs from Food Network shows.
He recovered quickly, stirring with one hand while he gestured to a door behind him. His accent was tinged with a hint of French and something else when he said, “She can raid away.”
Well, I had the French part right.
Having tasted the amazing food that’d come out of that kitchen, I was anticipating snacks of every salty, sweet, tangy, sour, and spicy variety. But when Ash turned on the light to the pantry, it was barren, like an apocalypse had hit and the shelves had been wiped out.
“Maximo isn’t a snacker,” Ash explained.
Based on his cut, muscular physique, that’s not surprising.
“Is there any chocolate?” I asked.
“In the box of bran cereal,” Freddy shouted from the stove.
Ash pulled out a wide candy bar that was wrapped in shiny purple foil and tossed it to me. I tried to read the brand, but it was in a different language.
“You sneaky bastard.” Ash stuck his head out. “What else have you been hiding?”
“Cheetos in the protein powder jug. Starburst in the whole wheat pasta box. And beef jerky in the Cornflakes.”
“What’s in this big box of anchovies?” Ash grabbed it down and opened the flap. “It’s actually anchovies. Who the fuck needs so many anchovies?”
“Caesar dressing,” Freddy called.
Ash put them back and asked me, “Anything else?”
“Just the chocolate.”
He grabbed the jerky for himself before heading out. I followed, my nose going wild at the scent of garlic.
I hope that’s dinner.
Freddy was still stirring away.
Ash waited until we were across the kitchen before saying, “Thanks for the jerky.”
“Hey, I said she could raid away.” His accent was thicker in his anger. “You put my jerky back.”
“Come get it,” Ash taunted.
Freddy looked disgruntled, his eyes darting between the pot on the stove and the jerky. “I can’t leave the risotto. It has to be stirred constantly.”
“Is that dinner?” I asked, my tone hopeful.
Other than seeing chefs fail on Chopped when they attempted it, I had no clue what risotto was. But it smelled so good, I was sure I’d love it.
“No, this is a test batch of a new recipe.”
“Freddy develops recipes for the upscale restaurants in the boss’ properties,” Ash shared.
From the very limited amount Ms. Vera and Ash had shared, Maximo owned four hotel and casino resorts. I had no clue which ones and a Google search on my MacBook had been as unsuccessful as the one on my iPad.
“I thought he was the…” Not knowing the correct phrasing, I went with, “House chef?”
“I am,” Freddy said. “I develop. I cook. I train. I slice, I dice, I even julienne.”
“That is a lot.”
“I like to feed people.” He tapped his spoon on the pot. “If this is good, I’ll serve it for lunch.”
I grinned, my stomach growling before twisting.
I’m hungrier than I thought.
Freddy looked pleased with my reaction. “You like my food?”
I almost gave him shit about the rosemary nightmares, but that would’ve been unfair. He was likely following orders.
I went with honesty, bordering on enthusiastic food fangirling. “I love it.”
His chest puffed out. “Good. Is there anything you’d like me to make this week?”
“I thought you didn’t take requests,” Ash grumbled sullenly.
“I don’t for bastards who steal my jerky.” He tilted his head toward me. “But if she appreciates the food I make with my own skilled hands, she can choose whatever she likes.”
Ash crossed his arms. “I appreciate your food.”
“You dipped an exquisitely marbled, dry-aged porterhouse in A.1.”