The bathroom itself was clean and stocked with toiletries, and fresh towels hung on the rail rather than lounging in their usual spot on the floor.
When he’d scrubbed the remains of his Somalian escapade away, he opened his walk-in closet. How long since he’d been in there? Years. It must have been years. The shelves were stacked with hundreds of shirts, more than he’d ever imagined he owned. It must have taken hours for the woman to wash this lot. A tiny knot of guilt formed in the pit of his stomach when he thought of how he’d scared her earlier.
Once he’d pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, he poked his head into the other rooms. Emmy was right—they were all clear. The place looked like the house he remembered buying years ago, not long after he’d joined Blackwood. The house that had never been a home.
He’d once hoped it would be, and that thought opened the floodgates. He lay back on the bed in what should have been the master bedroom, the one he’d never slept in, as memories of the girl he’d once dreamed of sharing his life with hit him.
Jana.
They’d chosen the house together, yet she’d never been here. The real estate agent had made them videos of several properties, and Jana had fallen in love with this one as they sat together in her kitchen in Germany. As soon as the video ended, he’d called and bought it. He’d have bought her the moon if it would have made her happy, but she claimed she only needed one thing.
And she had him.
For five short months, she had him and he had her.
Without Jana at his side, Nick had lost interest in Adler House. She was the one who’d named the place—as a historian, she’d wanted a reminder of her German roots when she moved to the other side of the world to be with him. He’d thought of changing the name, even selling it, but he’d never been able to sever that final connection. Instead, the place had turned into a ruin as he’d lost interest in life and love.
But now it had risen from the ashes, and Nick wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
As he walked back to the kitchen, he saw the house with fresh eyes. He’d all but forgotten the love seat Jana had picked out in Berlin and that hideous vase her colleagues gave her as a going away gift.
“We have to keep it for a few months,” she’d said. “Roland threatened to pay us a visit.”
Her ex-boss may have had terrible taste in ornaments, but she’d had a soft spot for the old professor, so the vase stayed.
Only now it was dust-free and filled with flowers.
Back in the kitchen, the lasagne was piping hot. Nick ate it with salad and bread he found in the fridge, and after the rations he’d been surviving on for the past month, it was heaven on a plate. Had the housekeeper made it?
He could get used to coming home to this.
Despite Emmy’s nagging and Bradley’s endless badgering, Nick had always resisted employing domestic staff. Not due to the cost, but rather because he’d never liked the idea of virtual strangers poking through his life. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t carry on living the way he had been. Adler House should be more than a place to sleep when he couldn’t cadge another bed for the night. Hell, he could name several hotels he’d spent more time in.
And today, the place felt different. Like it could be somewhere he looked forward to returning after a long day at work. Maybe having staff wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He had to laugh at the absurdity of it—he owned a house that cost him over three million dollars, and he never stayed in it because he’d been too stubborn to admit he needed a housekeeper whose wages were no doubt a fraction of that. Emmy could be an interfering bitch at times, but she meant well, and although he hated to admit it, she was probably right when she hired that woman.
What had Emmy said her name was?
Laura?
Shit, and he’d held her at gunpoint. Emmy would be furious when he explained that one. He’d have to find Laura and apologise, but first, he needed to get her address from Emmy. He wasn’t looking forward to either of those conversations.
Once he’d finished eating, he almost abandoned the dishes in the sink as usual, but then he