The Housemaid (The Housemaid, #1)

by Freida McFadden

I wonder if she would feel the same way about me if she knew I spent the last ten years of my life in prison.

As he says the words, something flickers over Nina Winchester’s face. Her lips twitch and her eyes narrow. I’m not exactly sure why though. She herself offered to let me call her by her first name. And it’s not like Andrew Winchester is checking me out. His eyes are staying respectfully on mine and not dropping below

The dark, suspicious look returns to her eyes. “Do you think so?”

Nina peers down at the doorknob, as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh! I’m so sorry about that. We used to use this room as a closet, so obviously we wanted it to lock from the outside. But then I converted it to a bedroom for the hired help, and I guess we never switched the lock.”

Sometimes it feels like Nina has a split personality. She flips from hot to cold so rapidly. She claims she was joking, but I’m not so sure.

As I shut the door, I notice marks in the wood. Long thin lines running down the length of the door at about the level of my shoulder. I run my fingers over the indentations. They almost seem like… Scratches. Like somebody was scraping at the door. Trying to get out.

He sees my face through the small window, and he shakes his head, just like he did the first time I met him. I remember the word he hissed at me in Italian before I went into the house. Pericolo.

I was never locked in the room after all. Nina didn’t have some crazy plot to trap me in there. The door was just stuck. But I can’t seem to shake that uneasy feeling. That I should get out of here while I still can.

Haloperidol is an antipsychotic medication, used to treat schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, delirium, agitation, and acute psychosis.

“If I were Nina, the last thing I would do would be to hire a pretty, young maid to live in my house. She must be out of her mind with jealousy.”

“I… I’m so sorry,” I say helplessly. “Sei pazzo!” he yells at me. He rakes a hand through his black hair. “Che cavolo!”

It’s a copy of the playbill from Showdown. I pick it up, confused. Why is the playbill on my nightstand? I put it in my purse after the show, and I’ve been keeping it in there as a reminder of that magical night. My purse is on the floor, leaning against the dresser. So how did the playbill get on the nightstand? I definitely didn’t take it out. I’m sure of it. Someone else must’ve put it there. I locked the door to the room, but I’m not the only one here who has the key. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I finally understand why Nina blurted out that I had been in prison. She knows that I saw the show with Andrew. She knows we were in Manhattan together, all alone. I’m not sure if she knows we spent the night at The Plaza, but she knows we weren’t home at eleven o’clock at night. And I’m sure if she’s smart enough, she could find out whether or not we checked into the hotel. Nina knows everything. I have just made a dangerous enemy.