By the time they landed, Greer was feeling much more like herself. Her sickness had passed, she’d eaten some crackers, and she was ready to enjoy a few days in Las Vegas. This would be like a vacation, she told herself. A chance to get away and reset from all of the things that were currently bothering her in New York City.
Like the fact that she was still beating herself up over sleeping with Asher.
Or the fact that she’d been avoiding him ever since. Monday lunches? A thing of the past. If she never saw him again, it’d be too soon.
The Dutchman white limo was waiting for her when the plane landed, and the driver must have been new, because he looked a little surprised to see her. Sure, she was brown and small and her father was a blond European. She was tempted to take out her ID and show him her name, but decided to be nice and not cruel to the poor driver.
He took her to the Dutchman castle, on the outskirts of Vegas. Her father adored pomp and bombast, and his home was no different. Most people would be happy with a mansion in Vegas. Not Stijn Janssen. He wanted one that looked like a castle, complete with a moat, two towers that looked as if they were topped by breasts, and a drawbridge with his initials carved into the wood. She suspected that if her father could get away with a coach drawn by white horses, he’d do that, too.
No one came out to greet her when the limo pulled up to the mansion. That wasn’t surprising. Sometimes her father had a girlfriend who took on the role of hostess, but most of the time they were just fame-bunnies looking to spend her father’s money, and cash in on a bit of notoriety. Greer took her bag from the driver, wheeled it to the staff entrance instead of the garish front double doors, and let herself in.
“Greer!” The moment she entered, there were people to greet her. Marta, the head cook, rushed out and showered Greer with air kisses. “Look at you! So pretty. Just like your mother.” Two of the elderly butlers came and hugged her as well, and it felt a bit like coming home.
“Hi, guys.” Greer hugged the staff, smiling at familiar faces and shaking the hands of new ones. “Good to see you all. How are things? Vader treating you well?”
Marta rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on her apron. “Look at you. Carrying in your own suitcase. Lucas! Take that upstairs for Greer. Put it up in the Yellow Room.”
The man named Lucas—young and very new to the staff—paused. “I think Kiki’s in the Yellow Room.”
“Dios mio,” Marta breathed, shaking her head. “One of your father’s new girlfriends.”
“I can sleep in one of the staff rooms. It’s no big deal.” She’d prefer it, really. No one ever tried to get into one of the staff rooms late at night, thinking there’d be a nubile Dutchgirl in the bed.
“I don’t like it,” Marta said with a frown, but waved Lucas ahead. “Your father, he’s got three girlfriends right now.”
“Three?” Greer wrinkled her nose and pulled up one of the stools near the main kitchen table. There were fresh vegetables all over the table, being cut into various shapes. She plucked a star-shaped wedge of cucumber off the pile and popped it in her mouth. “Let me guess. Blonde, busty, and under twenty-five?”
Marta crossed herself and nodded. “Your father definitely has a type. This time, it’s triplets. Bunni, Kiki, and Tiffi. All vegan.” She shook her head and picked up her knife, starting to chop again.
“Well, that sounds dreadful for you.” Marta loved working for Greer’s father, but her life got harder depending on the girlfriends in the house. If they didn’t eat the same things as Mr. Janssen, it meant more work for the kitchen.
Marta shrugged and began to chop another cucumber slice into a star shape. “At least they don’t eat a lot. But we’ve been cooking with a lot of tofu lately.”
“I’ll note that for the celebration party.” Tofu. Triplets. My, this was getting interesting already.
“If they’re still around by then,” Marta corrected, raising her eyebrows. “You never know with your father.” She bustled over to the oven.
Well, Marta had a point. Her father had never married and loved having an endless stream of new girlfriends. Some lasted a week, some lasted years. Rarely was there just one. Her father liked variety.
Which explained the triplets. Sort of.
“You’re just in time for lunch,” Marta said, opening the oven. “We’re having quinoa, spinach, and tofu loaf. I promise it’s better than it sounds.”
As Marta pulled the pan out of the oven, the smell of the food wafted into the air, and Greer’s stomach rebelled. She jerked to her feet and raced for the nearest bathroom, leaving behind a startled Marta and her helpers. Luckily, Greer made it safely to the toilet before she tossed her crackers.
When she was done puking her guts out, she oddly felt a lot better. So strange. Greer washed her face with a wet towel, rinsed her mouth, and returned to the kitchen.
Marta was eyeing her with a curious look. “You all right?”
She grimaced. “Stomach bug.” Her hand patted her waist. “Caught it a few days ago and can’t seem to shake it.”
Marta clucked and moved to Greer, putting an arm around her shoulders like a doting grandmother. “It’s good that you’re here. I’ll fix you right up. You go to your room and sleep and when you wake up, I’ll make you a nice warm soup and take care of you.”
Greer felt a rush of love for the old housekeeper. When she’d been a lonely child growing up, Marta had always had time for her, and made her special treats to let her know she was loved. Soup made by Marta would fix a million ailments, as would just spending some time in her warm kitchen. This was what she needed to reset all the feelings of misery and unhappiness from the last few weeks.