Cassie tiptoed into the kitchen but found nobody there.
She decided to go and check on the children and make sure that they were all right. Then, once she’d confirmed they were safe, she would wake Ms. Rossi and explain what she’d seen. It might be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry, especially seeing the man seemed to have vanished into thin air.
It had been such a fleeting glimpse that if she hadn’t seen the shoe prints, Cassie would have believed she’d imagined the furtive character.
She jogged up the stairs and turned toward the children’s bedrooms.
Before she reached them, she halted again, clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
There was the man—a slim, black-clad figure.
He was outside Ms. Rossi’s bedroom, and was reaching for the door handle with his left hand.
She couldn’t see his right hand, because it was held out in front of him, but from the angle, it was obvious that he was holding something in it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Needing a weapon, Cassie grabbed the first item that her panicked eyes could see—a bronze statuette on a side table near the stairs.
Then she ran toward him. She was going to have the advantage of surprise, since he wouldn’t be able to turn in time. She’d bring the statuette down first on his head, and then on his right hand to disarm him.
Cassie leaped forward. He was turning—this was her chance. She raised her makeshift weapon.
Then, as he turned to face her, she skidded to a halt. Her cry of surprise was drowned out by his outraged shout.
The short, slender man was holding a large takeaway mug of coffee in his hand.
“What the hell?” he shouted.
Cassie lowered the statue and stared at him incredulously.
“Were you trying to attack me?” the man blustered. “Are you out of your mind? You nearly made me drop this.”
He looked down at the coffee, which had splashed up through the vent in the lid and onto his hand. A few drops had spilled onto the floor. He reached into his pocket for a Kleenex and bent to mop it up.
Cassie guessed he was in his early thirties. He looked immaculately groomed. His brown hair was fade-cut to perfection and he wore a short, well-trimmed beard. She picked up a hint of an Australian accent in his voice.
Straightening up, he glared at her.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Cassie Vale, the au pair. Who are you?”
His eyebrows rose.
“As of when? You weren’t here yesterday.”
“I was hired yesterday afternoon.”
“Signora hired you?”
He emphasized the last word and stared at her for a few seconds, during which Cassie felt herself grow increasingly uncomfortable. She nodded wordlessly.
“I see. Well, my name is Maurice Smithers, and I’m Ms. Rossi’s personal assistant.”
Cassie gaped at him. He didn’t fit her picture of what a personal assistant was like.
“Why did you sneak into the house?”
Maurice sighed.
“The front door lock is difficult to open in cold weather. It makes an unholy noise and I don’t like to disturb the household when I arrive early. So I use the back, as it’s quieter.”
“And the coffee?”
Cassie stared at the mug, still feeling blindsided by the strangeness of his appearance and his purported role.
“It’s from an artisanal brewery down the road. It’s Signora’s favorite. I bring her a mug when we have our morning meetings.”
“So early?”
Although her tone was accusing, Cassie was feeling embarrassed. She’d believed she was being heroic, acting in the best interests of Ms. Rossi and her children. Now she was discovering she’d made a serious mistake, and had gotten off on the wrong foot with Maurice. As her personal assistant, he was obviously an influential figure in her life.
Her visions of a future internship were suddenly looking less certain. Cassie couldn’t bear to think that her dream might already have been compromised thanks to her own foolhardy actions.
“We have a very busy day today. Ms. Rossi prefers to start early. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to give this to her before it gets cold.”
He tapped respectfully on the door and a moment later, it was opened.
“Buongiorno, Signora. How are you this morning?”
Ms. Rossi was dressed and perfectly made up. She had a different pair of boots on today; these were cerise, with big silver buckles.
“Molto bene, grazie, Maurice.” She took the coffee from him.
The Italian pleasantries seemed to be a formality before the conversation switched to English, Cassie realized, as Maurice continued.
“It’s chilly outside. Shall I go and turn the heating up in your office?”
Up until now, Cassie hadn’t known that Maurice could smile, but now his face was stretched in an obsequious grin and he was practically fizzing over with the desire to please.
“We won’t be there too long. I am sure the heating will be adequate. Bring my coat, will you?”
“Of course.”
Maurice took the fur-collared coat from the wooden stand near the bedroom door. Following close behind her, he began talking animatedly.
“Wait until you hear what we have in the pipeline for Fashion Week. We had an excellent meeting yesterday with the French team. I’ve recorded the whole thing, of course, but I also have the minutes and a summary prepared.”
Cassie realized that Ms. Rossi hadn’t said a word to her. She must have seen her standing there, but her attention had been completely focused on Maurice. Now the two of them were heading toward the office where Cassie had been interviewed the day before.
She didn’t think Ms. Rossi was deliberately ignoring her—at least, she hoped she wasn’t. It was more as if she was completely distracted by work, with her full attention on the business day ahead.
“I have the sales reports for the past week, and there was a reply from the Indonesian suppliers.”
“I hope it is good news,” Ms. Rossi said.
“I think so. They’re requesting more information but it seems positive.”
Maurice was practically fawning over
