The Housemaid (The Housemaid, #1)

by Freida McFadden

There’s something about this room that’s making a little ball of dread form in the pit of my stomach.

There’s something in his expression that sends a chill down my spine. And then he shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. Almost like he’s trying to warn me. But he doesn’t say a word.

He hisses a word in Italian, but as soon as we hear the front door start to unlock, Enzo hurries back to where he had been crouched in the front yard and makes himself very busy. I could just barely make out the word he said. Pericolo.

Cecelia is standing behind me, her pale blue eyes boring into me, wearing a white frilly dress that makes her look like a little doll. And by doll, I’m of course talking about that creepy talking doll in The Twilight Zone that murders people.

I don’t know when the last time he had sex was, but for me, it’s been so long, I was afraid he was going to have to clear away cobwebs.

Nina gives me a look like she doesn’t believe one word I’m saying. Which is fair enough, since it’s all lies.