The Housekeeper's Daughter

by Palmer, Dee

  “What?” Tia leaps to her feet, shock pitching her voice high and loud.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss this, Miss Parker. Mrs Kraus is a client, for the present at least. Mr Kraus is sorting alternate representation, but in the meantime, she is very much my client, and solicitor-client privilege prevents me from disclosing anything further.”

  “What is she being charged with?” I ask as Tia slowly descends back into her seat. Her jaw is dropped comically open and frozen with her dazed expression of utter shock.

  “Arson, attempted murder, and fraud.” The severity of the charges is evident in his deadly serious tone.

  “Holy shit.”

  Tia remains mute, and Mr Waterhouse uses the silence that stifles the room to add a little flesh to the bones of this skeleton.

  “I can tell you Mr Kraus was not involved in the fire. He had no idea you were in any real danger until it was too late. He also wasn’t involved in embezzling the funds from the company pension. He was just trying to sort the problem before it took the company down.”

  “But he knew about the money. He was involved, right?” I watch Mr Waterhouse recoil at the accusation in my tone. He visibly collects himself and calmly slips his professional hat firmly on his head.

  “I am not at liberty to discuss the matter.”

  “Where is he?” Tia’s voice is so soft it barely drifts the short distance to Mr Waterhouse. He hears her, though, and lightly shakes his head when he replies.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is he safe?”

  “I don’t know.” His expression softens and he looks almost apologetic.

  “I don’t want any of this. This mess is nothing to do with me.” Tia waves her hand at the ominous folder, and her clipped angry tone dismisses Mr Waterhouse’s best intentions.

  “He’s doing everything he can to sort the mess Miss Parker. Give him time.” He leans forward with obvious agitation and concern. “This is why I’m here. This is your company now. It’s yours to run, to sell, or whatever you wish to do with it. I am here to guide you.”

  “But I don’t know you,” she retorts, and I can hear her voice catch with the surge of emotion, which is radiating off her in waves. I can’t imagine what’s going on in her head right now. I’m struggling to take it all in, and I don’t have a fraction of the feelings involved. I wrap my free arm over her shoulder and pull her tiny frame closer to mine. If I could put a protective shield around her I would, if I could keep us both in our own little bubble, I would do that too. However, this stuff won’t go away, and she needs to accept it. She also needs to understand I’m right here, so we can deal with whatever she decides, together. Her tender smile lights her face as her body melds to mine, and the glance she fixes on me is filled with love and understanding—confirmation enough.

  She understands.

  “I appreciate that, Miss Parker. Nevertheless, I am someone Mr Kraus trusts, and he has asked me to help. I will do everything in my power to do just that.”

  “He’s able to run the company?” Tia asks after a little time to take in the sincerity of Mr Waterhouse’s words. My gut instinct is I like the guy. For a solicitor, he seems to be pretty straightforward. His body language hides nothing; no twitching fingers, nervous ticks, and he can maintain eye contact without looking creepy. He also seems to hold genuine concern for Tia, the only thing that really matters here.

  “He is. He has a good team, but ultimately, it’s up to you. It will obviously take time, but whatever you decide, it’s safe to say you need never worry about money again. Your future is very secure.”

  I’m sure Mr Waterhouse believed his information would give Tia an inordinate amount of comfort; however, the result is a prickly retort and a glare that would shoot daggers if it could.

  “I never wanted his money.”

  “Your money,” I clarify, and she shakes her head as if the truth sits so uncomfortably inside her brain she won’t let it settle. Mr Waterhouse shifts in his seat, his expression perplexed, but he powers on, holding the folder out for Tia to take.

  “Here is a summary of the Kraus assets and the initial documents I need you to sign.”

  “I don’t want to take the company from Atticus. He should have it.” Despite her initial aversion to the documents, she tentatively takes the folder. Mr Waterhouse’s body loses a few inches of height and tension with an audible exhale.

  “Read the documents; take your time. He is happy to continue running the company until you have made your decision.”

  “Have you spoken to him?” Her fingers twist the ribbon securing the folder closed, but she doesn’t loosen the bow.

  “Only email.”

  “Riiiiiight.” She elongates the word, deep in thought and understanding. Atticus left the country. I checked, and until he settles the debt with the Russians, I doubt he will surface any time soon. Part of me didn’t want to know; part of me felt it was very much as case of ‘keep my enemies closer’ so I had to know, and in the end, I knew not knowing would tear Tia apart, so I had to find out what I could, for her. It wasn’t much. It seems he’s not the only one good at becoming a ghost.

  “He turned his mother in?” Tia speaks after a while, a mix of awe and joy tipping her lips into the first smile since we stepped out of the taxi.

  “Without hesitation from what I understand,” Mr Waterhouse replies, adding wistfully, “He loved that house.”

  “He loved more than that.” I cast a sideways glance at Tia, which Mr Waterhouse catches with a knowing smile.

  “Quite,” He mutters and then briskly shuts his brief case, brushes his trousers free of any creases, and stands. “Right. I’ve taken up enough of your time” He holds out his hand and takes Tia’s hand in a two-handed grasp. “Miss Parker, it was a pleasure to meet you.” He turns to me, and I realise we hadn’t actually been introduced.

  “Logan,” I tell him, and he smiles.

  “Logan, it was very nice to meet you.”

  I step around the sofa, and Tia is beside me. We walk toward the hall when Mr Waterhouse reaches into his jacket pocket and fishes out a small velvet box.

  “I understand it is your birthday tomorrow.” He holds the box out for Tia to take. “He wanted me to give you this.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She hesitates, but takes the gift. Her eyes glaze with unshed tears as recognition hits her like a fucking freight train. The small velvet box evokes an obvious insurmountable sadness, which drains the colour from her cheeks and seems to strike unbearable pain on her troubled, flawless face.

  “I’ll see you out, Mr Waterhouse.” I stride toward the door and swing it wide open. Mr Waterhouse takes the hint and is hot on my heels, worry crinkling his pale grey eyes as they flit between me and Tia. He calls back to Tia who is rooted on the threshold of the living room where he gave her the gift.

  “For what it’s worth, I am very sorry. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to call me.”

  “She has everything she needs right here,” I grit out, hostility instantly raging at his comment, tempering my ability to remain remotely civil.

  “I can see that. Happy Birthday for tomorrow, Miss Parker.” Tia doesn’t reply. She’s lost in her world of memory and regret, staring at the diamond bracelet that she probably wishes she’d never laid eyes on. He barely steps outside and I have slammed the door. Tia’s eyes rise up to meet mine when I step flush against her, my arms once more protecting what’s mine. The sorrow in her gaze makes me feel like I’m too damn late.

  “You want to talk about this?”

  “Not really. Is it possible to feel numb and devastated? I just want to go back to bed and lose myself in your arms.” She sucks back a sob, which is clearly fighting to take over. Her strength is humbling as she fights demons that threaten to consume her. So much shit, so much betrayal, and so many lies to burden such slight shoulders. I scoop her into my arms, lifting the weight of her troubles and her. I’ll gladly take the weight. It’s my job to
ease her pain and I’m more than happy to undertake the easiest quest on the planet.

  “That we can do.”

  I scroll through my playlist and find the one I need to run the fog of thoughts from my head. I made love to her most of the damn night, losing myself in her euphoria when she fell apart on my fingers, on my tongue, when I was buried so deep our souls were one. Every other second was consumed with the white noise of life threatening to burst our bubble of bliss.

  I tighten my trainers, slip my iPod into the back pocket of my running shorts, and take a long, uninterrupted drink of the view before me. Tia asleep, in my bed, fucking best view ever.

  She stretches and the sheet barely covering her breasts slides down her silky skin. When she releases a heavenly sigh, I feel the ache at the base of my spine and the inevitable swell in my cock. I step quietly across the room, hitch one knee on the frame and loom over the angel in my bed.

  “Happy Birthday, beautiful.” I press my hands on either side of her head. Her sleepy smile stretches wide and eclipses the bright sun peaking through the blind in a concentrated slither of light.

  “Mmm, where’s my cupcakes?” she moans out in a muffled mumble, not bothering to open her eyes. Birthday cupcakes in bed is a tradition, only this birthday, she gets to eat them in my bed.

  “I’m surprised they lasted. Maria risked it, sending them a day early,” I half joke.

  “I know, right? She must’ve double booked herself today to miss out on the opportunity to hand deliver. Any chance to get an eyeful of you.” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully and I chuckle.

  “Can’t blame her for that.” I wink and kiss the tip of her nose. “Look baby, it’s still early, and I didn’t let you get much sleep last night, for which I’m not remotely sorry. Since it’s your birthday I won’t drag you out of bed and force you to join me on my run. So how about you grab another half-hour of shut-eye, and when I get back, I’ll bring tea and cupcakes up, and I can give you your present.”

  “You gave me my present yesterday.”

  “That wasn’t the present I was talking about.” I squeeze my cock and grin when her cheeks flush with colour.

  “Whether it’s my birthday or not, it will be a dark day in hell before you drag me running in the morning, or at any time for that matter.”

  I push myself off the bed and walk to the door. I glance back and drop my chin, my intense glare piercing through the long strands of hair, which have fallen across my face. Her breath catches when I drag my tongue tortuously, slowly over by bottom lip.

  “We’ll see. I can be quite persuasive.”

  She swallows thickly and sucks in her lip into her mouth.

  “Not going to argue that one.” She absently rubs her backside over the thin sheet, and I suppress the moan that wants to rip from my chest. The flashback of my palm branding the perfect globe of smooth white skin is making it damn near impossible to walk out of the room.

  “Damn, I’m never going to be able to run with this hard-on.” I point at the impressive tent forming in my pants. I leave the room as she dissolves into a fit of adorable embarrassed giggles.

  There is a chill in the summer air, which cools my skin as I pound the pavement. A random motivation playlist is blaring and yet it’s unable to penetrate the dark thoughts clouding my headspace. I try to push them into a compartment for another time.

  I know they won’t go away, and that’s fine, just not today.

  For the first time since Tia has been in my life, I am able to take her out for her birthday, and I want it to be more than special, I want it to be everything. I want to show her how much I love her, with no drama, no history and no doubts.

  I just want to give her a glimpse into our future.

  Sweat trickles down my spine, my chest heaves with the pull of fresh air, and my thighs burn as I sprint the final half mile up my street. The normal commuter rush is less on a Saturday, and this early, there is only the odd twitch of life from the houses lining the far end of my street. My house is a little more isolated, high up on the brow of the hill and it should also be sleeping. However, a white car is parked outside and there is a small figure approaching the door. My heart races as I recognise both the car and the driver. My muscles scream with the extra effort I force on them to propel me faster to kill the remaining distance. I choke out a gasp when I call out.

  “Maria?” Her hand hovers somewhere between the doorknocker and the bell. I leap over the closed gate and skid to a halt, startling her such that she gasps and flusters to catch the box as it almost slips from her hand. What’s in the box?

  “Good lord, you scared me half to death Logan. You’re out!” Her wide eyes and shock are replaced with a wonderfully bright and genuine smile, which I completely ignore.

  “What’s in the box?” I snap, grabbing it roughly from her hands.

  “Logan, are you okay?” Her voice is filled with hurt, and I can’t bring myself to care as a tidal wave of fear surges through me.

  “What’s in the box?” I rip through the dainty string and tear the cardboard. Maria’s face is utterly horrified. She manages to speak with a catch in her voice.

  “What do you think? It’s Tia’s cupcakes. I know she doesn’t work for me anymore but you didn’t think—”

  I don’t hear the rest of what she’s saying. I can only hear the blood rushing through my veins and boiling up my insides. I burst through the door, rage and fear colouring my vision. My heart won’t beat I’m so damn scared, and I daren’t breathe. I round the kitchen door and see the open box of coffee and walnut cupcakes. Identical to the one I snatched from Maria’s hand. Why didn’t I open this yesterday? Why didn’t I check? I don’t know how many were in there originally, maybe twelve? The space in the corner would indicate the number but I can’t be sure, one is missing and one is crumbled and half eaten.

  A muffled retching sound fills my ears and triggers my feet into action, I fly from the room, leap up the stairs, leaving Maria perplexed and frozen at the front door.

  I round the corner of my bedroom and race to the en-suite. Tia is slumped over the toilet, her shoulders are shaking, and she arches her back with the force of more sickness. I’m on my knees.

  “Tia?”

  She wipes her glossy lips with the back of her hand. “I think I’m done.” Her voice is hoarse, and her red, swollen eyes would indicate she’s been doing this for a while. Not for long enough, though.

  “No…no you’re not. Open.” I thrust my fingers down her throat, and she heaves over my hand. Mostly water spills into the toilet bowl and dribbles down my arm. Her wide eyes question my sanity as I keep my fingers in her throat, and she coughs and chokes around my hand, fighting me. she manages to pull away enough to express her outrage.

  “What the hell Logan? What’s wrong with you?”

  “You have to get rid of it all, every bit.” I try to push my fingers back into her mouth, she ducks and dodges; her evasive manoeuvres thwart my attack.

  “Get rid of what?” She swats my hand away, but I’m more than determined to win this fight.

  “The cupcake.” I manage to grab her jaw and have to fight to keep hold. I risk my fingers pushing them so hard against her lips but I don’t care. “It’s poisoned. Maria is at the door. The cupcakes are from my sister.”

  “What? No.” The ‘o’ is enough for me to stick my fingers back inside and she retches around them when I press her tongue down and hit the back of her throat. I growl my response.

  “Yes.” She clings to my forearm and attempts to speak around the fingers filling her mouth.

  “Uut I haven’t eaten a uup-ake.” I understand enough to remove my fingers.

  “One’s missing.” I argue as she shakes her head. She looks so damn pale I’m not remotely convinced. My stomach is in knots, and I feel as sick as she looks.

  “It’s on the side table in the bedroom, Logan. I mean I was just about to take a bite when I felt suddenly sick and rushed in here. I haven’t eaten anything. I
’m okay.” Her hands press either side of my face, making me focus on her, hear her words. I’m not sure if it’s me or her, but one of us is shaking. I draw in a breath and look deep into her eyes.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Logan, I’m fine.”

  “But the half eaten-no!” A fearful understanding haunts the words escaping my mouth and hangs ominously in the air with my unfinished declaration.

  “Logan?” Tia’s eyes widen as dread cloaks us both.

  “Logan! Tia!” Maria’s voice booms from downstairs. It has just the wrong edge of panic to be simply checking on our whereabouts.

  I run my hands rapidly over every inch of Tia, to check she’s really okay, but she is already fighting her way out of the bathroom and scrambling to get downstairs. I’m right beside her.

  I hit her back as she roots to the threshold of the kitchen.

  My eyes fall on the same heartbreaking site.

  Maria is kneeling beside a small mound of ginger fur and an even smaller pile of cupcake crumbs.

  “No!” Tia stumbles forward, I reach to support her but she crumples to the floor. Her hand shakes as her fingers tentatively stroke Sid’s limp, lifeless body.

  Logan takes the box of cakes and throws them against the wall. He runs his hands through his hair and lets out a sound so raw it burns my ears. I can’t bring my tear-filled eyes to focus on anything other than the soft fur filtering through my fingers as I continue to stroke Sid’s still warm body. I feel a hand on my arm and look up to see Maria’s sad eyes staring helplessly at me.

  “I’m so sorry, Tia.”

  I give a tight nod because I don’t trust myself to speak. My lips are pressed in a firm flat line and my chest shudders from the effort to contain the sobs. I am vaguely aware of Logan leaving the kitchen. I hear his heavy footsteps climb the stairs and a distant door slams.

  “Is there anything I can do, honey?” Maria asks, and I’m already shaking my head before I voice my reply.