Chapter Two

Kryzia chose a café with windows on two sides.

She arrived ten minutes early and watched Adrian come in five minutes later.

He ordered coffee, then waited until she had chosen breakfast before taking out a sheet of paper.

Hours. Duties. Wages.

The job was for twelve weeks, with a review after the first fortnight. Five mornings a week. Cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping. Additional paid hours only if they both agreed.

“No cooking?” she asked.

“Can you cook?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want cooking included?”

“No.”

He drew a line through the small space beneath the duties and wrote No meal preparation required.

Something in her chest loosened.

Then he asked about Dorian.

She showed him the photograph she had taken of the account.

Adrian read it without comment.

“I can pay this to get you out,” he said. “Treat it as an advance on your wages. Fifty dollars a week, if that leaves enough for your expenses.”

“And after the job ends?”

“The remaining schedule stays the same. It won’t become due because you stop working for me.”

“What if you fire me?”

“Same answer.”

“What if I refuse something you ask?”

“That depends on whether it’s part of the job.”

She pushed the paper back.

“Write that down too.”

He did.

* * *

Imani helped her find a room in her cousin’s house.

It was small and faced a wall. The lock worked. A strip of tape marked her shelf in the refrigerator.

She loved it immediately.

Adrian paid Dorian only after getting written acknowledgment that the claimed balance had been settled. Kryzia stood beside him throughout.

Dorian looked from one to the other.

“Moving up, then?”

“She’s changing jobs,” Adrian said.

Dorian smiled.

Kryzia wanted Adrian to threaten him. She wanted something dramatic enough to match how humiliated she felt.

Instead, Adrian waited for the receipt.

Outside, she said, “You let him talk to me like that.”

Adrian stopped.

“I thought answering him would give him more room to do it.”

“You could have asked what I wanted.”

He looked at her for a moment.

“Yes,” he said. “I could have.”

She had expected an argument.

His agreement left her strangely unbalanced.

* * *

Unit 417 was smaller than she expected.

The sea made it seem enormous.

Light came through the terrace doors and spread across the sitting area, the kitchenette, the bed beyond. There were no family photographs. On the counter sat a coffee tin, two glasses, and a watch placed precisely beside a folded receipt.

“Your sister’s staying here?”

“In another room.”

“Good.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“There’s barely enough room for your personality.”

This time he did smile.

It changed him enough that she looked away.

Shantonique arrived twenty minutes later with sunglasses on her head and a pastry bag under one arm.

“Please tell me he’s paying you extra for dealing with him.”

“Kryzia,” Adrian said, “this is my sister.”

“I guessed.”

Shantonique kissed his cheek, stole his coffee, and offered Kryzia a pastry.

Kryzia liked her before she meant to.

* * *

The work was straightforward.

Adrian was tidy, but he had a habit of leaving tasks halfway completed when a call came in. An open suitcase. A damp towel. A glass beside the terrace chair.

He noticed everything she did.

“You changed detergent.”

“The other one was nearly empty.”

“This smells better.”

She spent the rest of the morning annoyed at how much the small approval pleased her.

Shantonique came and went. Sometimes she sat on the bed scrolling while Kryzia worked. Sometimes she followed her around talking.

One morning she left a dress across the chair.

“Could you wash that too?”

Kryzia glanced at it.

“Your brother’s laundry is included. Yours isn’t.”

“Oh.”

Shantonique flushed.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know.”

Adrian, working at the counter, said nothing.

Later, Shantonique asked what Kryzia charged for an extra load.

Later still, Adrian said, “You handled that well.”

“I wasn’t asking permission.”

“I know.”

She began to understand that he liked being answered.

That was dangerous in a different way.

* * *

Two weeks into the job, rain delayed her departure.

Adrian closed his laptop.

“I’ll arrange a car.”

“I could stay.”

He glanced at the terrace doors.

“The rain should ease.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

His hand stopped beside his phone.

Kryzia had thought about it while folding his shirts. While watching his hands close around a coffee cup. While calculating how much money would remain after rent.

Want and fear had become so tangled she could no longer tell which had brought her to this moment.

“I know you’ve done a lot for me,” she said.

“You work here.”

“I could do more.”

She reached for the first button of her blouse.

“Don’t.”

Her hand fell.

Heat rushed into her face.

“All right.”

“Kryzia.”

“You could have just said you weren’t interested.”

“I’m refusing what you’re offering.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yes.”

He remained on the other side of the counter.

“You clean here. I pay you. We agreed about the advance.”

“And if I wanted something else?”

“Then tell me what you want. You’ve only told me what you think you owe.”

She hated him for seeing it.

Worse, she hated herself for being relieved.

“Do I still come tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Same time?”

“Same time.”

She found her bag.

At the door, she stopped.

“You make everything sound simple.”

“No,” he said. “I’m trying to be clear.”

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