Chapter One
Cara looked at the bags that were being pulled out from under the bus. She walked, with only a small weekend bag and her purse, away from the greyhound station. She’d brought nothing with her but the few essentials she’d tucked into her little bag a few weeks ago, back when she’d had the foresight to create a hidden “getaway” bag.
She pushed her large dark sunglasses onto her face, pulled her baseball cap down low on her forehead then looked around.
“Need a ride?” a man’s voice came from behind her.
Cara jumped at the sound. Her heart hammered and she put one fluttering hand to her chest.
“You ok?” the man asked, looking Cara over, deliberating over her intense reaction.
"I'm fine," Cara gave a half smile. Of course, it wouldn't be Dimitri, couldn't be Dimitri. Cara tugged at her hat one more time. She watched the man's eyes trail over her body.
If she hadn't packed her bag with some normal clothes she would still be in the mini dress and knee high boots that she'd left the Vegas hotel in. The small clothes had strained against Cara's big curves just the way Stavros had liked it. He'd loved showing off Cara's curves in Gucci, Prada, and Dior… until some other man looked a little too hard, then he would take it out on Cara as if she'd been the one who picked her outfits.
There was a slam of a car door and a rush of fear slid down Cara’s spine. For a moment she remembered the sound of Stavros’ head hitting marble. She’d never heard a sound like that. Her life would never be the same because of that sound.
“…the Yankees?”
Cara realized that the man had been asking her something. She understood it must have been about her hat.
“Mm,” Cara made a non-committal sound and walked away from the man and his prowling eyes. She touched her Yankees hat. Her father had given it to her as a child. Cara gave her face a little pat. It was time to focus.
She shivered as she stepped out into the sun. The humidity draped itself around Cara like a damp towel but still her skin still prickled. Stavros’ flesh had never felt so cold. He’d always been hot to the touch.
“Focus,” she whispered to herself.
Cara pressed her fingers against the small slip of paper in her jeans pocket and her mind went to the seventy-four dollars in her wallet. Seventy-four dollars was all she had left after buying her bus ticket.
By the time she pulled up to the address that she’d spent nearly two days traveling to, her seventy-four dollars was down to fifty-two.
Cara begrudgingly tipped the cab driver and walked up the driveway to a small guardhouse. It was a small glimpse of the vast network protecting Marco Martinez’s fifty million dollar estate.
“Hi, I’m Cara Slovenyak, Maria Ruiz is expecting me.” Cara flashed her best smile. She’d already taken off her hat and fluffed her hair in the car.
“Give me a second,” the man put up a finger and stepped back into the little structure. Cara had been preparing herself for this. She knew she had to play it the right way or everything could fall down around her.
Though he didn’t know it yet, Marcos Martinez was the only person who could keep her safe and his house was the only place she would be able to stay alive.
“Your name isn’t on the list, is she expecting you?” The man came back out.
“I talked to her a week ago. I am supposed to be a new housemaid.”
“House maid?” the man looked at her Chanel bag.
Cara inched the bag further behind her body, “Yes.”
“Then you’ll be wanting Mrs. Caulfield, she’s the head of all house staff.”
"Oh, thank you, Randy," Cara read the man's nametag and he smiled briefly at the sound of his own name.
Randy went back into the building and picked up the phone. Cara’s stomach clenched, she didn’t know anything about a Mrs. Caulfield.
Cara had begun dabbling in the idea of her escape almost a full year after the first time. Stavros had come home raging and drunk that night. His casino had lost a lot of money and he’d lost control. The first slap was cold hard reality, surprising in every way. Then he'd nearly broken her arm. After that, he was able to control his temper less and less. Then nothing mattered, his casino did well and still he lost control, a man looked at her too long and he lost control, she spilled his drink and he lost control.
She knew hot blood ran in his veins that he was capable of much more than what he showed on those shadowy nights that she cried herself to sleep. She knew that if she stayed she would die. So she’d packed a weekender, pulled a name from his work contacts, a name she knew could save her, and she’d called Maria.
But it had all gone wrong. So wrong.
“Mrs. Caulfield will see you,” Randy hit the gate button and a large privacy fence opened.
A man pulled up on a golf cart. He took her weekender from her and Cara stepped in. She rode in silence up a long winding driveway. A golf course was on their left, and they passed tennis courts, then a swimming pool on their right. Cara felt more like she was in a country club than a private residence.
The house was magnificent. Huge windows stretched from floor to ceiling on most rooms. Cara could see a young woman vacuuming on the first floor next to a grand piano, giant paintings, and prolific sculptures. The golf cart turned and wound around the side entrance.
The staff entrance, Cara thought. Only a few days ago she’d had staff of her own, but that had come with a price.
A tall, thin woman with stylish gray hair came out of a side entrance as the golf cart stopped.
“You are Maria’s replacement?” The woman had a crisp British accent.
“Yes,” Cara said the word before she had time to second-guess herself. When had Maria left? Why had Maria left?
“Judy never mentioned you were coming,” Mrs. Caulfield was looking her over.
Cara decided not to say anything to this, better to say too little than too much and be found out.
“Well, come on then,” Mrs. Caulfield turned with an impatient head nod. Cara whirled around but the golf cart was already gone and her bag was next to her feet. She picked it up and hurried behind the elegant older woman.
“Staff eats together in the kitchen, meal times depend on the household schedule. This wing of the house is for staff use and the main wing of the house is only for Mr. Martinez and his guests. Just because he might be away on business does not mean you can use his personal gym, pools, sauna, any of the sporting equipment, the private beach, or any other part of the property,” Mrs. Caulfield spoke as if she’d said these exact same words many times before.
Cara nodded though no one was looking to see it. They walked through an enormous kitchen, with every beautiful appliance and fancy tool on display.
A man with a white chef’s jacket was mixing a sauce as a woman wearing the same stood at a counter chopping vegetables.
“This is Marcel our chef, and Adrienne his sous chef. Marcel is a three star Michelin rated chef,” Mrs. Caulfield looked as proud of the accomplishment as if it were her own. “We will go upstairs,” she began walking up a lovely modern staircase. Even the staff wing was dripping in luxury.
“How many people work here?” Cara asked on a thick exhale. Mrs. Caulfield was taking the stairs at a quick clip while Cara was already gasping for breath.
“Almost everyone in Miami works for Mr. Martinez in one way or another, but I assume you already know that. Ten people live in this wing. There is also a gardeners cottage and then most of the house and recreational staff live off the property.” Mrs. Caulfield stopped suddenly and Cara nearly bumped into her.
“This will be your room,” she reached one manicured hand out in the direction of Cara’s door. “I will see you downstairs in one hour to review your duties and help settle you in.”
Mrs. Caulfield didn't move and Cara wasn't sure if she should go into the room or wait for Mrs. Caulfield to say something more. After another beat of silence, Cara took hold of the doorknob.
“Welcome to the house,” Mrs. Caulfield spoke the words in a rather unwelcoming way as she walked by Cara and back down the stairs.
Cara walked forward, closed the door behind her, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was in.