Nisa crosses her arms and stares me up and down until I feel the need to wrap my arms around myself.
Pointing a finger at me, she says, “You’ll do everything I say.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She shakes her head. “You’ll call me Nisa Hanim.”
“Hanim is your last name?” I ask.
This time she scowls at me. “No. Hanim means Ms. You’ll call me Ms. Nisa the Turkish way.”
“Oh. Okay.” I glance around the clean kitchen, wondering if I should just get to work or whether I have to wait for her to tell me what to do.
It’s hard being in a new house. Working for Tymon, I at least had a routine. I knew where everything was and what was expected of me.
This is all strange and confusing. It feels like I’ve been dumped into the twilight zone.
Nisa’s features soften, then a tentative smile graces her lips. “Let me show you where everything is.”
Relief washes through me. “That would be great. Thank you.”
I follow Nisa from cupboard to cupboard, learning where everything goes. The laundry is done in a room that’s separate from the kitchen, and I can still smell the dryer sheets. Lilies and linen. The familiar scent helps ease my nerves.
I stay close to Nisa as she shows me the whole west wing of the mansion. There’s a formal sitting room, TV room, entertainment area, four bedrooms with en suite bathrooms, and a study.
All the bedrooms are decorated in light colors, except for Gabriel’s room. The dark gray tones fit his demeanor. It definitely looked like a man’s room, and honestly, I felt uncomfortable setting foot inside it.
When we head back to the kitchen, I ask, “Is there anything I can do now?”
Nisa shakes her head. “You can go to your room and settle in until it’s time for dinner.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “But… won’t I get in trouble?”
I’d love to get some rest to soothe the ache in my midsection, but I can’t see how that can even be an option. I have to work to prove my worth.
She turns to face me, a slight frown forming on her forehead. Her thick black hair is braided down her back, and even though she’s in her fifties, it hasn’t dimmed her beauty.
“Why do you ask that?”
Having forgotten Gabriel’s last name, I try to remember it. Unable to, I murmur respectfully, “The boss said I have to work, and I don’t want to give him any reason to punish me.”
I’m in enough pain as it is.
Nisa’s frown darkens. “Just do as I say, and you’ll be fine. You’re still recovering from your wounds. Go to your room, settle in, and get some rest. I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner.”
Not wanting to argue and feeling a little relieved, I nod. When I turn around, Murat’s waiting to escort me back to the bedroom.
“Oh, I’ll bring you fresh towels and toiletries after I’ve taken the afternoon tea to Alya Hanim.”
I nod again, assuming Alya Hanim is Gabriel’s wife.
Crap, this is all too confusing.
Chapter 10
Lara
I’m up at the crack of dawn after a restless night of tossing and turning.
When I’m done showering, I check the lashes on my back, glad to see they’re healing and not infected. Still, they’ll leave horrible marks.
Yesterday Nisa brought me the softest towels, the same peach color as the bedding. She also brought me shampoo, conditioner, a brush, and hair ties. There are products I’ve never used or had access to before.
It feels wrong, though. Like I shouldn’t have these luxuries.
While I wonder if it’s too early to get to work, I also think about everything that happened during the past eight days.
It’s surreal.
Not once have we had stew here, and the food is delicious. It’s like there’s an explosion of tastes in my mouth during every meal.
Last night we sat at a table in a quaint little room filled with potted plants. I didn’t have to shove the food down as fast as possible while standing by the sink.
Also, Nisa and Murat have actually been nice to me. No one barks orders at me. The atmosphere in the house is pleasant and not filled with tension.
But all of this makes the apprehension grow in my chest.
It’s not what I’m used to, and it’s making me feel emotions I’ve never felt before.
Just do your best.
Keep your guard up and your head down.
Bey for mister. Hanin for miss. Evet for yes.
I go over the Turkish words I learned yesterday so I won’t forget them.
I take five minutes to squash all the new emotions down and to gather the strength for the day ahead.
Today I’m wearing a pale yellow dress with a light brown pattern. The flat shoes are comfortable, unlike the pumps I used to wear.
I noticed Nisa doesn’t wear a maid’s uniform, and I wonder if that means I won’t be wearing one as well.
There’s a lot I wonder about, but not wanting to overstep any boundaries, I keep the questions to myself.
Walking to the window, I glance outside and notice the sun’s rays are just starting to break through the darkness.
It must be past five o’clock already.
Not wanting to be late, I make sure every strand of my hair is neatly tucked into the bun before walking to the door.
Now that I have hair ties, I can maybe braid my hair like Nisa’s. Tomorrow, though. There’s no time for that now.
It’s still hard to believe I don’t have to share my sleeping space with anyone. Or a bathroom.
It’s too good to be true, which means this could be a trap of some kind. Maybe Gabriel is hoping I’ll let my guard down, and I’ll give him information on Tymon.
If only he knew I don’t know anything of worth. Not once have I lied to him.
Feeling tense and unsure in the foreign house, I cautiously open the door and peek up and down the hallway. There’s no sign of Murat.
Can I leave the room without Murat?
Crap.
I don’t know what to do, and I really don’t want to be late for my first day of work.
With my hand clutching the doorknob, I worry about what to do.
Do I wait?
Do I go to the kitchen and get to work?
This is so hard.
A door opens to my left, and when Nisa steps into the hallway, I almost let out an audible sigh of relief.
She notices me and says, “You’re up early. Let’s have some tea.”
Still hesitant, I ask, “Is it okay if I leave the room without Murat Bey?”
“Tsk.” She gestures for me to come. “As long as you’re with me, it’s okay. Just don’t wander around alone.”
That’s good to know.
I follow Nisa to the kitchen. While she opens the backdoor, I fill the teapot with water so it can boil. I peek into all the cupboards again to refresh my memory of where everything goes.
There’s even a dishwasher.
Last night it was weird loading all the dirty dishes into it and not washing them by hand.
Moving closer to the dishwasher, I ask, “Do I just open the machine to unload the dishes?”
“Evet,” Nisa murmurs.
I watch as she takes various ingredients from the pantry and fridge. Opening the dishwasher, I get to work.
Honestly, I’m surprised everything is clean.
As I pack the dishes and utensils away, I have to admit it’s more convenient than washing and drying it all by hand.