outfits.”
“I can have my tailor do it.”
“Marco already offered when he dropped off the supplies and saw what she was working on. She said she wants to do it herself.”
Since she’d barely moved in hours, she was determined enough.
“Why’d Marco tell you?” I asked.
“To give me a heads-up she was armed with sharp-as-fuck fabric scissors.”
I wasn’t worried—and not just because I wasn’t home to get shivved.
She’d had countless opportunities to leave. She wasn’t locked in her room. The front door was unguarded. Hell, she had access to Freddy’s knives and could’ve used one to demand a car to aid her escape.
She never tried.
My little dove likes her gilded cage.
I pulled my eyes away and moved on to a topic that was far less enticing. “Any new Dobrow sightings?”
He shook his head. “Nada.”
There’d been a handful of suspected sightings, but they could’ve been cases of mistaken identity—wannabe Bond villains were a dime a dozen in Vegas.
But I didn’t trust it.
My eyes went back to the monitors over Ash’s shoulder. “Have Cole run an optics check on the security systems as a precaution.”
He stood. “On it.”
When he left, I leaned back in my chair and ran my palm down my face. I couldn’t shake the feeling shit was about to go sideways.
And my gut was never wrong.
Juliet
A Week Later
Holding up the fabric, I inspected my handiwork.
After adjusting the romper’s straps so they fit without drooping, I’d watched a ton of tutorials before turning the shorts into a skirt.
And it’d worked.
Kinda.
My stitches were janky, my hem wasn’t quite even, and there was a good chance none of the seams would hold.
But so long as I didn’t look too closely and barely moved, it’d worked.
Running into my closet, I changed into the dress and did a spin in front of the mirror.
I actually did it.
I slid on a pair of wedge sandals and went in search of Ms. Vera. I didn’t have to go far. She came out of one of the guest rooms as I neared it.
Catching sight of me, she stopped and clutched her hands against her chest. “Beautiful! It’s much prettier as a dress.”
“I think so, too.”
I’d been working on the project, fixing and refixing until my back was numb and my fingers were stabbed more than a pin cushion.
And I’d loved every frustrating second.
Finishing was bittersweet because I didn’t have another project yet. I’d looked through all of my clothes, but minus altering my tees into crop tops or extending my crop tops into tees, there was nothing I could do.
“Can I have some regular fabric to mess around with?” I asked.
“Make a list, and we’ll go tomorrow.”
I nodded even though I had no clue what I was going to do, let alone what I’d need to do it.
Only one way to find out.
Returning to my room, I grabbed a notebook, pen, and my MacBook. Then in my pretty dress, I sat on the floor and researched all afternoon, through dinner, and until I was falling asleep at the coffee table.
Christmas
Knock.
Don’t even knock. Just say ‘Merry Christmas’ then go eat breakfast. Two words. No big deal.
Walking down the hall, I stared at the closed office door. My steps slowed as I neared it.
Ms. Vera and the men are off. He’s probably gone, too.
Using that flimsy excuse to chicken out, I sped past and went downstairs.
‘Twas the morning of Christmas, and all through the big-ass mansion, no one was around, which made it eerily quiet.
Not quite as charming as the original.
Going into the kitchen, I opened the fridge to find heat-and-eat meals stacked for me. I grabbed the two labeled for Christmas morning and opened them, practically drooling at the sight of fruit salad and breakfast casserole.
I popped the casserole into the microwave and turned to grab a fork when my eyes landed on something.
Something magical.
Something with my name on it—literally.
It’s a true Christmas miracle.
Freddy was already on my Nice List since he’d promised to teach me to make beignets when he returned from visiting family in New Orleans.
Him leaving me a stash of coffee put him on my Super-Duper Nice List.
I followed his written directions to brew it using the pour over thingy.
A Mr. Coffee would’ve sufficed.
When it finished, I took a sip.
Never mind.
This is the nectar of the gods and Mr. Coffee is a sin against coffee.
I didn’t bother eating at the big table since it was just me. I sat on the counter and ate, enjoying the delicious food and loving the coffee.
To some, it would probably be