Chapter 45: The Unexpected Visitor
The silence after Jenny left the kitchen was louder than their passion had been. Aidan stood motionless, his pants still pooled around his ankles, the cooling evidence of their transgression on his skin and on the cabinet door. His mind, usually a well-ordered spreadsheet of calculations and solutions, was static. A single, blazing line of text: You broke it. You broke the first rule.
He moved mechanically. He cleaned himself, then the cabinet, using a dishcloth under scalding water, scrbbing until the wood shone. He picked up the contract from the floor. The paper felt radioactive. He didn’t read it again. He just folded it once, neatly, and placed it back under the pebble. A monument to his hypocrisy.
He was buttoning his shirt when the doorbell rang.
The sound was a pistol crack in the fragile quiet. He froze, mid-button. Catriona wouldn’t ring. She had a key. Jenny was downstairs. A client? A delivery? He wasn’t expecting anyone.
He heard the soft pad of Jenny’s feet from the direction of the basement stairs, then her voice, unnaturally bright. “I’ll get it!”
He finished his shirt, tucking it in, trying to sculpt his face back into something resembling a calm, professional man. It felt like trying to mold wet sand.
From his position in the kitchen, he could see the slice of the front hallway reflected in the darkened glass of the microwave door. He saw Jenny open the front door. He saw her body go rigid.
“Lucia? Dios mío, what are you doing here?”
The voice that answered was younger, slightly higher, laced with hurt and annoyance. “What am I doing here? You ghost me for three days, Jen! Your phone goes to voicemail. I called the landline here twice yesterday. No answer. What was I supposed to think?”
Aidan watched the reflection. A second figure, shorter, curvier, dragged a small suitcase over the threshold.
“I’ve been… busy. The new arrangement. It’s chaotic.” Jenny’s voice was strained, too thin. “You should have called.”
“I did! I’m here because I was worried! You said you were moving in with your employers. I wanted to see the place, bring you your mail.” Lucia stepped fully into view. She was indeed her sister’s mirror—the same luminous dark eyes, the same full mouth, but where Jenny was lean tension, Lucia was soft abundance, her curves pronounced in her tight jeans and simple t-shirt. Her hair was down, a cascade of ink around her shoulders. Her gaze was sweeping the entryway with naked curiosity, but it quickly snapped back to Jenny. “You look weird.”
“I don’t look weird.”
“You do. You’re all flushed. And your ponytail is… messy.” Lucia’s eyes narrowed. They were perceptive, those eyes. Medical student’s eyes, Aidan realized with a sinking feeling. Trained to notice minute details, signs of distress or illness. “Are you sick?”
“I’m fine. Just… cleaning.”
“At nine-thirty in the morning? In your street clothes?” Lucia’s head tilted. Her attention drifted past Jenny, into the house. It landed on Aidan’s reflection in the glass, a ghostly figure standing frozen in the kitchen. She went very still. “Who’s that?”
Jenny turned, a frantic little pivot. “Oh. Mr. Walters. Aidan. My, um, employer. Aidan, this is my sister, Lucia. She just… stopped by.”
Aidan had no choice but to step into the doorway. He manufactured a smile, hoping it didn’t look as ghastly as it felt. “Lucia. Jenny’s mentioned you. Pre-med, right?”
Lucia’s assessing look moved from Jenny to Aidan and back. She didn’t smile. “That’s right.” Her voice was cool, polite, but the suspicion in it was a living thing. She took in Aidan’s appearance—the hastily tucked shirt, the hair still ruffled from Jenny’s fingers, the faint sheen of sweat at his temples. Her gaze dropped for a fraction of a second, then snapped back up. A forensic scan.
The air in the hallway was thick enough to chew. The scent of coffee and sex hadn’t fully dissipated; it hung in the space between the three of them, a damning fragrance.
“We were just going over the new household schedule,” Aidan said, the lie tasting like ash. “It’s a big change, having Jenny live in.”
“I bet,” Lucia said flatly. Her eyes drifted past him, into the kitchen. They fixed on the island. On the single sheet of paper under the pebble. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Jenny said too quickly. “Just a… checklist.”
“For a cleaner?” Lucia didn’t wait for an invitation. She walked past Aidan, her shoulder brushing his arm. She moved with a quiet confidence that was unnerving. She stopped at the island and looked down at the contract. She didn’t touch it. She just read the visible lines.
Live-in Domestic & Personal Assistant.
At the pleasure of the Walters household.
Her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. She looked up, first at Aidan, then at Jenny, who had followed her into the kitchen, looking pale. “A checklist,” Lucia repeated, her voice dangerously quiet.
“It’s standard,” Aidan said, but his tone lacked all conviction.
“Is it?” Lucia turned fully to face Jenny. The hurt in her eyes was now secondary to a dawning, horrified comprehension. “Jenny. What is going on? You drop off the planet. You move in here. And there’s… a vibe. There’s a seriously weird vibe in this house. And you…” She gestured vaguely at Aidan, her cheeks flushing with anger. “You look like you just ran a marathon. Both of you.”
“Lucia, stop it,” Jenny whispered.
“No! You tell me to stop? I’m your sister! I drove an hour because I thought you were in trouble!” Lucia’s voice rose, cracking. “Are you in trouble? Is this… is this something else?” Her eyes flicked to Aidan’s left hand. To his wedding band. The flush on her cheeks deepened into a mortified scarlet. “Oh, my God. Jenny. Tell me it’s not that. Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”
The word stupid hung in the air. Jenny flinched as if slapped. All her newfound boldness evaporated under her sister’s disgust.
Aidan found his voice, but it was the voice of a guilty man, which made it weak. “Lucia, it’s not what you think.”
“What do I think?” she fired back, crossing her arms over her chest, a defensive, protective gesture. “I think my sister, who’s smarter than anyone I know, is standing in her boss’s kitchen looking like she just got properly fucked, and her married boss is standing here lying to me about checklists. That’s what I think.”
Before anyone could form another denial, the distinctive crunch of tires on gravel sounded from the driveway. A car door slammed.
All three of them froze.
Footsteps on the front path. Light, clicking footsteps. Catriona’s footsteps.
The blood drained from Jenny’s face. Aidan’s heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted out. Only Lucia looked confused, glancing between their terror-stricken expressions and the sound of the approaching steps.
The key turned in the lock.
The front door opened.
“Forgot the fabric swatches!” Catriona’s cheerful voice called out, followed by the rustle of her bag. “The meeting’s not for another—“
She appeared in the kitchen doorway. She wore her elegant pantsuit, a leather portfolio under her arm. Her smile was effortless, until she took in the scene.
Her husband, rigid by the fridge. Jenny, looking like a trapped animal. And a beautiful, furious young woman she’d never seen before, standing guard over the contract as if it were a crime scene.
Catriona’s smile didn’t fall. It changed. It settled into something warmer, more curious, infinitely more dangerous. Her sharp green eyes performed a lightning-fast triage: Lucia’s protective stance, Jenny’s shame, Aidan’s guilt. She absorbed it all in a single, seamless glance.
“Well,” she said, her voice a smooth, pleasant melody. “This looks interesting. You must be Lucia. Jenny’s told us so much about you.” She extended a manicured hand, her gaze locking with the younger woman’s. “I’m Catriona. Welcome to our home.”