don’t go now. And Bridget, you need to get to school.” She shouldered her purse and scurried to the front door.
Mona sounded like a mother who had just given strict orders to her two children before leaving for work.
“Have a good day, sweetheart. I’ll call you tonight.” Leonardo got to his knees and embraced his daughter. “I love you.”
Bridget nestled her head into the crook of his head and neck. “Have a safe trip. I love you, too.”
The tender loving interaction tugged my heart and my vexation eased.
“Come on, dear. I’ll take you to Phillip. He’s waiting for you outside.” Mona took Bridget’s hand and guided her toward the door.
“Is Miss Summers going to pick me up?” Bridget asked, her feet scurrying to keep up with Mona.
Before I could answer, Mona said, “No, Phillip will. Everything stays the same. Oh, Miss Summers, don’t forget to put the chicken in the oven at four and take it out by five thirty.”
Mona closed the door, but it sounded more like a slam in the dead quiet. Then they were gone, leaving Mr. Medici and me by the stairs.
“Let’s start over?” Leonardo’s eyes widened, almost pleading, and then he extended a hand.
“Sure.” My traitorous gaze settled on his unbuttoned shirt when I shook his hand. I lowered my eyes so he wouldn’t notice.
But he did.
He began to fasten buttons as he spoke. “Mona started dinner for you and Bridget. I won’t be home for dinner. Actually, I’m not going to be home for a couple of days. When I come back, I’ll be home a day or two. You’re welcome to go home during those days if you’d like.”
“Great. Thank you.” I paused to figure out how to ask what I needed to know. “How about Mrs. Medici? Will she be around or on the trip with you?”
I didn’t know how to ask about his significant other. Nobody had mentioned anything about Bridget’s mother. I hadn’t seen anyone besides the three of them, but perhaps Mrs. Medici was packing for the trip.
“No. There is no Mrs. Medici,” he said flatly.
Strange. Mona had indicated during the tour that the household had two parents.
“Oh.” I tried to make nothing of it and keep my tone neutral. “So, Banks? Roselyn? Could you explain, please?”
His gaze lowered to the marble floor and then back to me. “I’m sorry for misleading you, but if we had told applicants my real name when they interviewed, news would have spread fast. I wanted people to apply with genuine interest for the job, not curiosity about me.”
“Oh. I see.”
A man of his status and money probably got a lot of attention from people, including those with an angle. I’d already seen how women, like Jessica Conner, worked hard to get his attention.
“Anyway, I left my cell number with emergency contacts just in case on the kitchen counter. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call. Also, if you wouldn’t mind, please text me your number.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” He gave a polite nod and finished buttoning up his shirt.
“You were asking Mona for your dry cleaning, right? Did you want to change your shirt?” I pointed at his shirt pocket.
He glanced down at the small yellow stain, the reason he’d been taking off his shirt in the first place.
“That’s right.” He furrowed his brow. “That’s what I get for being in a hurry. Thank you for the reminder. I’m going to change and then leave. Have a good day.”
“You too.” I watched him strut up the stairs maybe longer than I should.
My pulse finally slowed to a steadier beat, but the warmth from Leonardo Medici’s skin lingered on my hands.
Chapter Sixteen — Snooping
After Leonardo left, I wanted to check out the chicken Mona wanted me to bake. As I headed to the kitchen, I did a double take in the family room.
A large framed photo of Bridget wearing a white ruffled dress hung over the mantel. A small beaded tiara crowned her long locks that flowed over her shoulders. It hadn’t been there the last time, and neither had the photos in the cabinet.
One that caught my eye was a picture of baby Bridget and Leonardo hugging. I smiled, then wondered about the mystery of Bridget’s mother.
When I had come for an interview, there had been no photos, which I’d thought was strange, but now it all made sense. If an interviewee recognized the people in the photos, they would know who lived here.
I went to the kitchen and opened