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much you weigh?”
    â€œI don’t own a scale.”
    He sighed. Why did she have to make everything so difficult?
    â€œFitness room,” he said, gesturing to the doorway. “I have a scale in there.”
    She reluctantly followed him and was even less enthusiastic about getting on the digital scale. As she stepped on she averted her eyes.
    The number that popped up was nothing short of disturbing. “Considering your height, you have to be at least fifteen or twenty pounds underweight.”
    Isabelle glanced at the display, and if her grimace was any indication, she was equally unsettled by the number. Not the reaction he would have expected from someone with a “there’s no such thing as too thin” dictum.
    â€œAm I correct in assuming this weight loss wasn’t intentional?” he asked.
    She nodded.
    It hadn’t occurred to him before, but what if there was something wrong with her? “Are you ill?”
    She stepped down off the scale. “It’s been a stressful couple of months.”
    â€œThat’s no excuse to neglect your health. While you’re here I expect you to eat three meals a day, and I intend to make you climb on that scale daily until you’ve gained at least fifteen pounds.”
    Her eyes rounded with surprise.
    â€œIs that a problem?” he asked.
    For an instant she looked as though she would argue, then she pulled her lip between her teeth and shook her head.
    â€œGood.” He looked at his watch. “I have to go. I’ll be home at six-thirty. I expect dinner to be ready no later than seven.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    There was a note of ambivalence in her tone, but he let it slide. The subject of her weight was clearly a touchy one. A fact he planned to exploit. And he had the distinct feeling there was more to the story than she would admit. Just one more piece to this puzzle of a woman who he thought he knew, but wasn’t at all what he had expected.
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    Though Isabelle wasn’t sure what her father had paid Emilio’s mother, she was positive it wasn’t close to enough.
    She never imagined taking care of a house could be so exhausting. The dusting alone had taken nearly three hours, and she’d spent another two and a half on the windows and mirrors on the first floor. Both tasks had required more bending and stretching than any yoga class she’d ever attended, and she’d climbed the stairs so many times her legs felt limp.
    Worse than the physical exhaustion was how inept she was at using the most basic of household appliances. It had taken her ten minutes to find the “on” switch on thevacuum, and one frayed corner on the upstairs runner to learn that the carpet setting didn’t work well for fringed rugs. They got sucked up into the spinny thing inside and ripped off. She just hoped that Emilio didn’t notice. She would have to figure out some way to pay to get it fixed. And soon.
    Probably her most puzzling dilemma was the cupboard full of solutions, waxes and paraphernalia she was supposed to use in her duties. Never had she imagined there were so many different types of cleaning products. She spent an hour reading the labels, trying to determine which suited her various tasks, which put her even further behind in her duties.
    Her new uniforms arrived at three-thirty by messenger. Emilio had ordered four in two different sizes, probably to accommodate the weight he was expecting her to gain. The smallest size fit perfectly and was far less unflattering than the oversize version. In fact, it fit better and looked nicer than most of the street clothes she currently owned. Too bad it didn’t contain magic powers that made her at least a little less inept at her duties.
    When she heard Emilio come through the front door at six-thirty, she hadn’t even started on the upstairs guest room yet. She steeled herself for his latest round of insults and jabs and as he stepped into