part0021

Restless legs carried Mitch from one end of the house to the other. She dared to go outside and inhale some fresh air, hoping it would clear her mind and help her come back to the senses that dictated how to live like a normal person again.

Fuck. She hadn’t been normal in years, if ever.

I feel like an idiot. She continued to clutch her throat, buried beneath her sweatshirt. Nobody could see the collar she had adorned when she dressed in her own clothes that morning, but that wasn’t the point, was it? Vanessa hadn’t given this to her so her whole house would know what they did behind closed doors. “Know that my heart is with you.” If separation anxiety came for her, Mitch was reassured that Vanessa wasn’t that far away. They would see each other again soon. How pathetic am I? If she had known this was what she was destined to become in Vanessa’s compound – let alone so quickly – then she would have never agreed to this.

She didn’t think so, anyway.

“Hey, need some help?” A delivery truck from another town was parked in front of the main entrance. A dolly carried packages and a small sack of letters proved too much for Maria the housekeeper, who took it upon herself to carry everything inside. The dolly was unwieldly and the letters slipping out of her other hand. “I’ll take that.” Mitch grabbed the handle to the dolly and heaved it up the slim ramp built into the staircase leading up to the doors. It was far from handicap compliant, but Mitch had a feeling that it was added solely for this purpose.

“No, no,” Maria protested, although the look of relief on her face said she was glad to have the weight off her shoulders. “You shouldn’t. They are private.”

Private? Plain brown boxes and unmarked letters didn’t get much more private. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on here. The mail was routed through another city or town a couple hundred miles away, based on the stamps on top of the boxes. Whoever delivered them from that town was probably on Vanessa’s extensive payroll. More ways for her to stay anonymous in the area. Vanessa wasn’t really her name, was it? Because that was the name on some of the packages. So were names like “Valerie” and “Veronica.” Anyone else must have been part of the staff. Maria had a package from someone in San Antonio.

“I’ll get in trouble.” Maria took back the handle once Mitch had done most of the heavy lifting. “Madam only trusts me to sort the mail.”

Mitch hung around anyway, keeping a careful eye on Maria as she rolled the dolly into a small room that said, “Employees Only.” She dropped the sack of letters onto the floor and began the arduous task of stacking packages based on to whom they were addressed. Mitch wished she could say it was boredom that compelled her to do this, but a large part of her wanted to see another layer of Vanessa’s mysterious life peel back and reveal the woman behind everything.

“Anything for me?” Mitch asked, knowing damn well that nobody had sent her anything.

Maria turned her back to Mitch. One second later, she attempted to close the door.

“Oh, it’s all right.” Luke was there, pushing the door back open and overpowering Maria as she eventually gave in to his brute strength. “What is she going to see, huh? The macarons my mother sent me?”

Sure enough, Luke’s face lit up when he found one of two packages addressed to him. “That’s the stuff right there.” He shook the small brown package in front of Mitch’s face. The other one was carefully tucked beneath his arm. Maria shooed them both out and firmly closed the door. “Chantelle hates these. She’s sensitive to gluten, you know, but even without these little cookies of deliciousness being packed with sweet, sweet gluten… well, she doesn’t like sweets much. Here. Go ahead and open it.”

Mitch cocked an eyebrow, but the package was in her hands soon enough. Her thumbnail picked at some of the tape. When that proved fruitless, she instinctively reached for her pocket knife in her jeans.

Right. It had been confiscated when she came to the house.

“Here.” Luke tossed her his. “Hurry it up, huh? I want to eat my mother’s cooking.”

“Let me guess. Because your wife doesn’t cook?”

“How did you know? I thought Shanny exudes her homemaking qualities.”

Mitch snorted, her skills with a knife making short work of the tape. Eventually, she and Luke made it to the credenza in the hallway. He dumped his package and used the pen in his pocket to poke holes into the tape. Mitch had two seconds to see the name of the sender. Sherman Smith. Whoever that was.

“Dare I ask how you two work as a couple?”

“I’d tell you, but I don’t think my boss likes it when I fill her guests’ heads with details of my personal life.”

“So it’s like that, huh?”

“Have you seen Chantelle? Vanessa has a crush on her.” The good-humored tone to Luke’s voice instantly dropped to the floor. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that…”

“I’ve seen her, all right.” Mitch didn’t interact with Chantelle much, but he saw her everywhere. Rather hard to miss the only woman in a pantsuit, let alone the one with red hair always worn down and loose. She may have had a small frame, but Chantelle’s stance screamed that she would fuck up any loser who tried to mess with her. Mitch certainly admired that in any woman, whether Vanessa crushed on them or not. “Who Vanessa crushes on is no concern of mine. I get the feeling that she crushes on a lot of women.” That wasn’t a criticism, nor was Mitch particularly jealous, no matter how much she now fished for Vanessa’s affection. Women who appreciate other women… I don’t care, as long as I know about the touching. Vanessa had made it clear before Mitch arrived at the compound that theirs was an exclusive arrangement. Not only was Mitch expected to keep her hands to herself around others, but Vanessa likewise enjoyed monogamy – including the serial kind.

Besides… Mitch didn’t have the greatest gaydar in America, but she would be shocked to find out that Chantelle was anything but Kinsey 1 heterosexual.

“Voila.” Mitch produced a tin of macarons, each one more decadent in appearance than the last. Jesus. I don’t want to eat these. Was Mitch’s mouth big enough to chow down on one of these behemoth macarons? “Your dinner.”

“Hey-o.” Luke tucked his half-opened box beneath his arm and snatched the tin from Mitch’s hand. “Now this is what I’m talking about. My mama is a professional baker, by the way. Used to own a little shop in Santa Fe.” He took a large bite from the first macaron, his jowls sagging and eyes rolling back in his head. Mitch had to refrain from laughing. Apparently, the head of Vanessa’s security wasn’t only the school jock, but the class clown as well. “That’s where I met Shanny when I came back from my last tour. She walked right into my mama’s bakery, saw me sitting in the corner with my classified ads, and asked me out.” His laughter sputtered a few crumbs onto the floor. Mitch took a judicious step back. “That’s the kind of forward lady she is. Should consider myself real lucky. She could’ve had any meathead in Santa Fe, and she chose me.”

“That’s… lovely.” Mitch turned down a bite of macaron.

Luke was so into his snack that he dropped his other package onto the floor. Out spilled a dark blue three-ring binder full of handwritten notes and photographs of someone Mitch was not allowed to see, for Luke snatched everything back up as if Mitch hadn’t witnessed a thing.

Unfortunately for him, he left one small note on the floor.

“Anyway, I gotta get going.” So much for their sweet bonding time. As soon as Luke was reminded of what he was supposed to be doing, he took off like a yellow jacket in search of its next target.

Lovely. Plenty of opportunity for Mitch to bend down and pick up the handwritten note a man named Sherman Smith had left in his package to Luke.

Mitch folded up the note and stuck it in the front pocket of her hoodies. Someone is trying to kill “her?” Was that a reference to Vanessa?

Time came to a still as Mitch stood there in the front hallway, mulling over the implications of someone on the hunt for Vanessa’s life. Sadly, it made a lot of sense, considering how she lived and how much stock she put into her security. Vanessa wasn’t merely obsessed with privacy and living away from most of civilization. She was hiding. Keeping her face behind masks and shadows wasn’t merely a kinky game for them to play. It was survival. Vanessa didn’t want to risk her temporary girlfriends knowing what she looked like.

Vanessa definitely wasn’t her real name. It couldn’t be. That was too obvious. So what’s her real name? What does she look like?

Mitch embraced a rude awakening. No matter how she felt, no matter how much she revealed about her history and current predicament… not only was it no match for what Vanessa suffered, but she would never, ever get that much information about the woman she was quickly falling in love with.

You’re not in love… you’re in kinky lust. Get over it, already. Mitch abandoned the hallway before anyone asked her what she was doing there. Or before they saw the embarrassment pinkening her cheeks.

How could she be falling for someone she barely knew? Let alone the kind of person she should have nothing to do with after this was over?

Light taps on the door awakened Mitch from her nap. She was barely up and acknowledging the late afternoon sun outside her window when Maria stepped into the room, a folded up piece of paper in her hand.

“Dinner is served early tonight, Ms. Cruise.” She handed the sleepy woman the piece of paper. “Madam asked me to give this to you. Please come down at your convenience.” She turned around and left, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

Mitch continued to rub her eyes as she unfolded the paper and read the words Vanessa did not deem worthy enough to text – or maybe they were worthier than either of them anticipated.

Although that was all it said, Mitch couldn’t help but declare it pretentious. Come as I am, huh? She had fallen asleep in her jeans and hoodie. Not only were both wrinkled to hell and back, but her hair stuck up and she probably smelled like she felt.

At least she could freshen up, right?

How in the world are we going to have dinner on the terrace without me seeing her face? Mitch washed her own in the bathroom sink. She ran a comb through her hair, grateful that Vanessa had seen it already. While her hair color was perfectly acceptable for her overall look, there wasn’t anything exciting about it compared to the wigs she adorned for their dates. This was it, she supposed. Her character creation phase had come to an end. Michelle was officially left behind when Mitch went to dinner with her hair exposed and her scruffy clothing still on her body.