Page 2 of Restoration

Still. If she could get rid of me, I’m quite sure she would.

I glance over at Greg, Edmund’s big, bald driver. He gives me an amused twitch of a smile.

Edmund rolls down the window again and says, “Thanks, Autumn” before he rolls it back up.

I breathe through my annoyance with Kontessa. He’s been dating her longer than he’s dated anyone in all the time I’ve known him, so it’s entirely possible that it’s going to be a long-term thing. My personal feelings toward the woman don’t matter in any way.

He can date who he wants. He decides who makes him happy. Not me.

When we get to the restaurant, I jump out first so I can run inside and talk to the host to make sure their table is ready before they get out. Edmund has always attracted attention because he’s the only son of the California branch of a billionaire family. He’s been fairly well known here in the Los Angeles area for his entire life. But he was never a household name until he started dating Kontessa. Because of her notoriety, the couple draws attention (and often paparazzi) everywhere they go.

I hate it. Even though his cousins sent out a team from the East Coast to provide extra security, his recent fame has still made a ton more work for me than there used to be.

Inside the restaurant, there’s a bunch of people lingering in the entrance or waiting at the bar for a table. I’m sure they all have reservations, but at restaurants like this, tables are almost never ready on time. But when I introduce myself to the smiling, slightly frazzled host, he says we can be seated immediately. He shows me the table, and I ask for the angle of the table to be shifted slightly because Kontessa doesn’t like to look straight toward a light. Then I go outside to gesture to the bodyguard assigned for this evening, who opens the door to let Edmund and Kontessa out.

When they’re seated, I give the server their drink order and then catch Edmund’s eye to let him know I’m leaving.

During the first year or two, I’d stay with him everywhere he went unless he specifically wanted privacy. He had a really active social life back then, so I was constantly exhausted from an endless succession of nights. Finally I told him I couldn’t keep doing it. Either something had to change with our schedule, or I couldn’t work for him anymore. He immediately agreed he didn’t need me on every random excursion, and my life has been much better since.

I naturally wake up fairly early, and I get my best administrative work done in the morning. Plus I’m simply not a person who can exist on five hours of sleep. I hate staying up too late.

When I return to the car, Greg drives me back to Edmund’s Beverly Hills mansion, which he inherited when his parents died in his teenage years. I have my own suite there, having moved in about six months after I started this job. While it’s a very nice perk to get free food and housing in addition to my generous salary, living in the same house as Edmund also makes me available for random things that come up outside my normal working hours.

After he drops me off, Greg will return to the restaurant and still have time to kill before Edmund and Kontessa are done with dinner and ready for their next stop.

Kontessa likes to go clubbing.

Edmund used to. I didn’t know him when he was in high school and college, but evidently he was pretty wild back then. He was twenty-four when I started working for him, and he was still going out and partying most nights. But after a couple of years, he started to settle down. He’d hang out with his friends, and he’d travel and he’d date a lot—go to dinner and the theater and art exhibits and movie openings and the big fancy parties that people in his class love to throw. But he stopped drinking so much, and he didn’t go to nearly as many clubs.

Not until he started dating Kontessa.

Another reason I’m not her biggest fan.

Edmund never works. He is and always has been a gentleman of leisure. But he’d at least stopped acting like a stupid frat boy before he hooked up with her.

I force the topic from my mind. Over and over, whenever he and Kontessa get into a fight, I begin hoping that he’ll dump her and move on. But it never happens, so I try not to even think about it anymore.

When I get into the house, I stop for a minute to speak to Alicia, the housekeeper, about the meal schedule for tomorrow, and then I head to my bedroom in the back of the house, toeing off my heels as soon as I enter the room.

I’m not a high-heel person. I’m not a high-fashion or elaborate-makeup or fancy-fingernail person. I’ve got reddish-brown hair and brown eyes and a curvy figure and a lot of freckles. Some women can pull off looking stylish and made up, but I always look fake and ridiculous when I try. Not like me.

Usually I wear black pants, a simple top, and comfortable shoes so I can blend into the background, but I have a few dark-colored dresses and heels I wear when I have to go out with Edmund in the evenings. No one will believe I work for him if I show up looking like a grandma.

I change into my pajamas, wash my face, and brush my teeth.

Then I climb into bed with my e-reader so I can read until I fall asleep.

Edmund texts me at about ten thirty, saying dinner was good and they’re heading to a club.

I reply with a thumbs-up and put my phone back on the charger.

I don’t know why he texts to keep me updated on each stop of his evenings, but he always does.

***

IFALL ASLEEP SOMETIMEafter eleven and am awakened by a loud crash.

I can’t immediately identify the source of the sound. Just that it’s loud and unexpected and abnormal and scary.