Almost Dead. Блейк Пирс

the spacious atrium, Cassie noticed a number of colorful art and décor items on display. The bright paintings, vases, and vibrant rugs stood out and made the home look like a modern, yet welcoming, art gallery.

      Ahead of her was a high staircase of white marble, leading up to the top floors.

      Cassie’s attention was drawn to a waist-high model of a bright red stiletto-heeled shoe which was set on a plinth to the right of the staircase. The shoe’s design was daringly exquisite.

      Ms. Rossi smiled as she saw the direction of Cassie’s gaze.

      “That is our ‘Nina’ model which propelled Rossi Shoes to international fame in the seventies. The design was decades ahead of its time, and as for the color, people were shocked by it—but not too scandalized to buy.”

      “It’s beautiful,” Cassie said.

      She guessed Ottavia Rossi must be the owner of this international company which, if it had been operational in the seventies, was most probably a long-established family business.

      Ms. Rossi led her around the staircase and down a corridor. Craning her neck, Cassie glimpsed archways leading into a large modern lounge, and a gleaming kitchen where a cook was working.

      Further down the corridor was a closed door. She opened it and ushered Cassie inside.

      This elegant space was Ms. Rossi’s study. She sat at the curved white table and waved Cassie to a seat on the other side.

      Cassie suddenly realized that she had arrived empty-handed. She hadn’t prepared a resume, or even printed out her personal details and made a copy of her passport and driver’s license. This woman was a businessperson and would surely expect it. Cassie felt horrified that she had forgotten to do this.

      “I’m so sorry,” she began. “I only recently arrived in Italy and I haven’t updated my resume yet. This job opportunity was so unexpected that I rushed here wanting to know more.”

      To her relief, Ms. Rossi nodded.

      “I understand. I traveled extensively myself in my early twenties—you look to be that age now, if I am correct?”

      Cassie nodded. “Yes. I’ve got my actual passport on me if you’d like to take a look.”

      “Thank you.”

      Ms. Rossi took the document and paged briefly through it before handing it back to Cassie.

      “Now, you may give me a brief outline of the work you have done,” she said.

      On hearing this, Cassie felt sick, because she realized that she could not even give references for any of the work she claimed to have done since being in Europe. Her first employer was involved in a murder trial and would have nothing good to say about her—in fact, Cassie was sure that he would immediately try to pin the blame on her, and insist he had been wrongfully accused.

      Her second employer was dead, murdered while Cassie was in his employment. Nobody in that family could possibly give her a reference. This wasn’t just a disaster, it was a catastrophe.

      CHAPTER SIX

      Cassie sat in silence, with her mind racing. She knew Ms. Rossi was waiting for her to speak, and that any hesitation would raise questions, but she had no idea what to say.

      The word “murder” would be enough to put any potential employer off. Regardless of the circumstances, they would decide it wasn’t worth the risk.

      Cassie couldn’t blame them. She was beginning to wonder if she herself was the bringer of bad luck—or else whether her own decisions had caused these horrific incidents to occur.

      Her only option was to gloss over her recent experience, and focus on the work she’d done back in the States.

      She cleared her throat and began speaking.

      “I left home when I was sixteen and I put myself through college, working mostly as a waitress,” she said.

      She didn’t elaborate on the reasons why she had left, but hoped that being independent and self-sufficient would win her favor in Ms. Rossi’s eyes. To her relief, the business owner nodded approvingly.

      “I did some tutoring during that time, helped younger children with their studies, and I also worked at a daycare center for a short while, to cover for someone’s maternity leave. I was fully cleared and got all the necessary approvals to work, which I can show you on my phone. I also have a reference from the restaurant where I worked for two years, saying that I am a reliable and hard worker who always went out of her way to make customers happy.”

      Fortunately, those documents had formed a part of her first au pair application and she had the copies saved online. Even though the restaurant work wasn’t relevant, it was her only real reference.

      “Excellent,” Ms. Rossi said.

      “Since being in Europe, I’ve traveled quite a bit. I started out au pairing for a family in Paris. The children then moved to the South of France, so I spent some time in the UK over December.”

      Cassie’s face felt hot. Her story was riddled with holes. If Ms. Rossi questioned her version she would quickly find that Cassie hadn’t told her the full truth. But, to her surprise, the businesswoman seemed satisfied, and spoke in turn.

      “I will give you some background on my situation. I was divorced a few months ago, and while I was able to work from home for a while, the business has become too busy now. We have expanded into a number of new markets and acquired more brands. We planned for this growth, of course, but it’s happened faster than we expected. My mother is going to move here to take care of the children, but she needs time to prepare and pack up. So I will need you for three months. It will be live-in, of course. The children are well behaved, and we have a cook and a driver, so it will not be too onerous a responsibility.”

      Cassie swallowed.

      “What are the children like? Could you tell me more about them, please?”

      “Two girls, aged eight and nine. Nina is the older, and Venetia the younger. They are well behaved.”

      Since Ms. Rossi did not seem to have much more to say about the children, Cassie gathered her courage to ask.

      “Could I meet them, perhaps? See how we get along, before I decide?”

      She had no idea whether Ms. Rossi might think this question rude, after she had vouched for her children’s behavior.

      The businesswoman nodded.

      “Of course. They will be back from school by now. Follow me.”

      She stood up and swept out of the room with Cassie hurrying behind.

      Cassie felt awestruck by this woman’s air of authority. If this was what it took to run a successful international company, she couldn’t imagine herself ever doing the same. Not in a million years. She was not the caliber of person and did not have the same commanding presence.

      Luckily, she felt that Ms. Rossi seemed to like her. At any rate, she didn’t seem to have an inherent dislike for her, which was what she’d sensed with her French employers.

      They headed to the marble staircase and upstairs. The house was built in the shape of a horseshoe, with two main wings. The children’s rooms were upstairs and to the right of the horseshoe.

      The click of Ottavia Rossi’s heels on the tiled floor was loud enough to signal the children that she was arriving, and Cassie was impressed to see the two dark-haired girls come out of their bedrooms and stand side by side, waiting, as they approached.

      They were wearing smart, long-sleeved dresses that looked identical except for the color—one was yellow, the other blue. Their brightly colored moccasins made Cassie wonder whether Rossi Shoes had a children’s range and if so, whether this was part of it.

      “Children, I would like you to meet Cassie,” Ms. Rossi said. “She is here for an interview, and might be looking after you for the next few weeks. Perhaps you would like to greet her, and answer her questions?”

      “Good afternoon,