The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 162 - One Hundred and Sixty-Two

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Two

Alicia’s POV

I told Cassie and David over breakfast that I’d start looking for work. Something that would let me disappear into the background while I figured out what came next.

Cassie set down her coffee cup, her eyebrows pulling together. "Are you sure that’s safe? Malachi’s going to be looking for you." 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"That’s why I need something low-profile," I said. "No office, no paper trail he can follow. I already have an interview lined up for this afternoon."

David glanced at Cassie, then back at me. "What kind of job?"

"Housemaid position. Live-in. The listing said it’s for a wealthy family outside the city. I’d handle cleaning, some cooking, general upkeep."

Sophie looked up from her plate. She’d been quiet all morning, picking at her food. "You’re going to live there?"

"It’s safer that way. Malachi won’t think to look for me working in someone’s house. He’ll be checking hotels, apartments, places where people like us would normally stay."

"People like us," Sophie repeated softly.

I didn’t know what to say to that. A week ago, we were people who stayed in penthouses and flew private. Now we were people who needed to hide.

Cassie reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Just be careful. Please."

"I will."

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. Maybe she understood that I couldn’t keep relying on David’s generosity, or maybe she just knew me well enough to recognize when I’d already made up my mind.

I left the apartment two hours before the interview. I needed time to think, to prepare myself for whatever was coming. The streets were busy with tourists and locals, everyone moving with purpose or wandering without care. I envied them. The simplicity of their problems.

I found a small shop tucked between a pharmacy and a café. The clothes inside were nothing special, but they were clean and cheap. I picked out a plain blouse, cream-colored with buttons up the front, and a pair of dark pants that actually fit. The girl at the register barely looked at me as she rang me up, which was exactly what I needed.

I changed in the store’s bathroom, stuffing my other clothes into my bag. The woman staring back at me in the mirror looked tired. I splashed water on my face and tried to fix my hair, but there was only so much I could do. At least I looked presentable. At least I looked like someone who needed work.

The café where we’d agreed to meet was small, the kind of place that probably had regulars who came every morning for the same order. It smelled like coffee and something sweet, pastries maybe. I spotted him right away. Blue scarf, just like he’d said in his message. He sat by the window with an espresso in front of him, and everything about him screamed money. His jacket looked tailored, his watch caught the light every time he moved his wrist, and even his posture suggested he’d never had to worry about much.

I almost turned around. What was I doing? I didn’t know this man. I didn’t know anything about this job except what the listing had said, and even that had been vague. But my options were limited, and my pride was even more limited than that.

So I walked over and introduced myself.

He looked up, and something strange happened. His face went blank. Not unfriendly, just empty, like someone had pressed pause on him. He stared at me without blinking, his mouth opening slightly like he’d forgotten how to form words.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, suddenly aware of every worn thread on my clothes, every imperfection. "I’m Alicia. We spoke on the phone?"

"Yes." He stood up too quickly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. A couple at the next table glanced over. "Yes, of course. Please, sit."

I sat, placing my bag on the floor beside me. He sat back down, still staring.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No. No, nothing’s wrong." He cleared his throat and finally looked away, down at his espresso. "I apologize. You just... you remind me of someone."

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing.

He looked up again, and this time his expression had shifted into something more controlled. Professional. "You have the job."

I blinked. "I’m sorry?"

"The position. It’s yours if you want it. You can start tomorrow."

"But you haven’t asked me anything yet. Don’t you want to know about my experience or why I’m in Italy or—"

"That won’t be necessary." He pulled out his phone, sleek and expensive-looking. "Can I have your contact information? The estate is just outside the city, about thirty minutes by car. I’ll send someone to pick you up in the morning."

This felt wrong. Too easy. In my experience, nothing good came easy. But what choice did I have? I needed this job. I needed somewhere to go where Malachi wouldn’t think to look.

I gave him my number, the new one David had helped me set up. Untraceable, he’d promised. At least, I hoped it was.

The man typed it in and nodded. "Nine o’clock. I’ll text you the address and details tonight. Bring whatever belongings you have. There’s a room for you at the estate."

"What exactly will I be doing?"

"General housekeeping. Cleaning, some cooking if you’re capable, laundry. The estate is large, but there’s other staff. You won’t be alone."

"And the family?"

"You’ll meet them tomorrow." He stood, clearly ready to end the conversation. "Is there anything else you need to know?"

There were a thousand things I needed to know, but I shook my head. "No. Thank you."

We shook hands. His grip was firm but brief, and then he was gone, walking out of the café without looking back.

I sat there for a while, trying to process what had just happened. The whole interview had taken maybe five minutes. Maybe less. He hadn’t asked about my background, my references, why I was in Italy, nothing. He’d just looked at me and decided I had the job.

Maybe it was luck. Maybe I just needed to stop questioning it and be grateful. Or maybe I was walking into something I didn’t understand. But I was already in something I didn’t understand, so what difference did it make?

I left the café and walked aimlessly for a while, letting my feet carry me wherever they wanted to go. The sun was warm on my face, and the streets were full of life. Street musicians played on corners, artists sold paintings, and everywhere I looked, there were people just living their lives.

I found a small restaurant with tables outside and sat down. The menu was in Italian, but there were pictures, and I pointed to something that looked like pasta. The waiter nodded and disappeared inside.

While I waited, I watched the people around me. There were couples everywhere. Holding hands across tables, sharing food, laughing at jokes I couldn’t hear. A man fed his girlfriend a bite of gelato, and she kissed him, her lips probably cold and sweet. Another couple walked past the restaurant with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists, moving together like they’d been doing it for years.

I looked down at the table. At my hands, folded in my lap. I used to be part of a couple. Used to sit across from Malachi at restaurants like this, back when things were different. Or maybe things were never different. Maybe I’d just been better at pretending.

The waiter brought my food, and I ate slowly, taking my time. There was nowhere I needed to be, nothing I needed to do until tomorrow morning. For now, I could just sit here and pretend I was one of those people walking by. Someone without secrets, without a past chasing them, without a future so uncertain it made my chest tight just thinking about it.

But I wasn’t one of those people. I was Alicia Blackwood, running from her brother-in-law, carrying his child, and starting a job as a housemaid for a man who’d hired me after one look.

I finished my pasta and paid the bill. Tomorrow would come whether I was ready for it or not.