Three nights later, Cassidy was no closer to an idea for getting them out. She was on edge and scared every second of every day, afraid Lloyd or one of the others in the house was going to be able to read something on her face and know she was planning to escape. She’d done her best to avoid contact with anyone other than the children under her care and the employees she couldn’t steer clear of.
Lloyd had come to the schoolroom to collect Mario that morning, and her son still wasn’t back from whatever errand he’d been sent on, which freaked Cassidy out. When a knock sounded on her bedroom door, she practically ran to open it.
“Cassidy,” Lloyd said, staring down at her.
He’d always given her the creeps. Even when she hadn’t known what she was getting herself into all those years ago. It was the way he looked at her.
Currently, his dark skin shone with sweat, as if he’d just gotten done working out. She knew he spent a lot of time in the gym on the lower level of the mansion. He prided himself on his looks. On being muscular and stronger than others. He wasn’t all that tall, maybe only an inch or so taller than her own five-nine. But the emptiness in his eyes made her shiver. Some women might find his brown gaze soulful or deep, but whenever Cassidy looked at him, she just saw an eagerness to inflict pain.
“Come with me,” Lloyd said.
It wasn’t a question, and Cassidy knew she had no choice but to do as he ordered. “Is it Mario? Is he okay?”
Lloyd frowned. “Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Well, I haven’t seen him in a while. Is he back from his errand?”
“You coddle that boy too much,” Lloyd told her, without answering her question.
Cassidy wanted to push, wanted to ask where Mario was and what he’d been doing all day, but she knew Lloyd wouldn’t answer her. He never did. He liked keeping her off kilter when it came to her son. Liked using him as a bargaining chip. Lloyd, and everyone else, knew that Mario was her one weakness, and they exploited it as much as they could.
Lloyd took hold of her bicep and marched her out of her room and down the hall. Cassidy winced. Everyone who worked security in the house manhandled the other employees. Grabbing their arms, like Lloyd did now, was their signature move.
It didn’t used to bother her so much, but lately Lloyd and his cronies seemed to take pleasure in holding her a bit too tight. In knowing they were bruising her with their grips. Complaining did no good; it only made them smirk and hold on tighter.
“You’re eating with Michael tonight,” Lloyd said, not giving her a choice. “You’re expected to be on your best behavior because we have a very important guest. I would advise you not to do or say anything that would embarrass Michael or his business. Understand?”
Cassidy nodded. She’d been through this more than enough times now. When Michael was trying to impress someone, he paraded some of his female employees before his guests. She didn’t know if he was trying to imply that they were his harem or what; she never dared ask. She kept her head down and ate whatever was put in front of her, whether she liked it or not.
She’d politely refused the salted cod that had been served to her once and quickly learned that saying no to anything Michael offered was strictly forbidden. She’d been served nothing but salted cod every day for a month after that. It was either eat it or starve. She’d learned her lesson well.
“Keep your mouth shut unless you’re asked a direct question. You’re nothing but a decoration. Got it?”
“Yes,” she said, hating Lloyd with everything in her. Michael Coke was far worse than his head of security, but at least she didn’t have to deal with him quite as often.
Lloyd stopped before entering the large dining room and dropped his hand. Cassidy resisted the urge to reach up and rub her arm where he’d been gripping her.
“Michael agrees with me that your son is getting too old to sleep with his mommy every night. But if you behave yourself at dinner, I’ll suggest that we let him stay with you for a while longer.”
Cassidy stiffened. They were going to separate her from Mario? No. She wouldn’t let that happen.
Instead of protesting, however, she simply nodded. Doing anything else would make Lloyd take Mario from her immediately, just out of spite and to prove that he could.
She didn’t look up at him, knowing he’d be able to see the hate in her eyes, as he pushed open the door to the dining room.
Cassidy walked in, keeping her eyes to the floor and using her peripheral vision to find her way to one of the chairs.
“You’re late,” Michael told her in an annoyed tone.
Cassidy wanted to retort that she hadn’t known she was supposed to eat with him in the first place, had just been led straight to the dining room, but she knew better. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said politely.
“Cooyah when I’m talking to you,” Michael barked.
Cassidy’s head came up. Cooyah meant “pay attention,” but sometimes the kingpin wanted people to look at him, and other times he rebuked them for meeting his gaze. He was never consistent, which meant she had no idea what to do when she was around him.
There were other people in the room, everyone waiting to be seated, but she didn’t dare take her eyes from Michael. He had a dangerous aura around him. Cassidy had sensed it the first time she’d met him, but had convinced herself she was imagining things. After living in the house only a short amount of time, she’d discovered how right she’d been. She’d seen him kill one of his employees—shoot him in the head—when he’d suspected the man had double-crossed him.
Michael was the youngest of the Coke siblings, and the only one remaining. His father had been killed in a car accident, and his brother and sister had both been murdered. Cassidy suspected many of the children she’d watched over and taught were descendants of the Coke family, but had never asked outright.
Tonight, he was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black shirt. His nostrils flared as he studied her, and it was all Cassidy could do not to squirm under his gaze. He had a way of making her want to crawl under the table and hide, but instead, she squared her shoulders and swallowed hard.
“G, this is our resident nanny and teacher, Cassidy Hewitt. I figured you might like her since she’s one of your kind. Be polite, and say hello to my guest, Cassidy.”
Turning, Cassidy now saw there were several other women in the room. One was a woman Michael was currently seeing. He didn’t date, but he seemed to favor this woman more than the others. She was Jamaican, with the most beautiful brown skin Cassidy had ever seen. But the woman was cold, and it was obvious she was only with Michael because of what he could give her . . . namely, expensive clothes, shoes, and jewelry. Also in attendance was a white woman Cassidy had never seen before, and two other Black women. Lloyd had stepped up to a nearby chair, and two more of Michael’s trusted lieutenants were also present.
Cassidy turned to the man who’d been introduced as G. He was several seats down from her and on the other side of the table—but the second she met his gaze, she froze.
The man was tall. Very tall. He seemed to tower over everyone else standing at the table. He had a scruffy beard with silver streaks, and his dark hair was a bit too long on top and messy. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a polo shirt with the collar pulled up. His biceps bulged against the material, and she could see a smattering of chest hair through the open buttons at his throat. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken several times.