“Give me the highlights. I am dying here.”
She chewed the last bit of her bagel then washed it down with some water. “We had food, then met up with Ethan.”
“Come on, Deacon.” Emily closed her eyes and whispered, “You’re better than that.” Then she opened one eye. “Did he at least kiss you?”
“Um…” Unsure where to look, Vivienne zipped her backpack.
“That’s a yes.” Emily danced a lap around the table. “Was it one of those awkward first kisses where you go one way and he goes the other”—she jerked right then left—“or like something you’d see in a movie? Is he a good kisser? I bet he’s a greeeat kisser.”
Vivienne tossed her backpack over one shoulder and started for the door. “It wasn’t exactly our first kiss.”
“Hold it right there.” Emily caught her by the backpack. “You’re only telling me this now?”
“Gotta go!” She twisted free and sprinted for the stairwell.
“When you get back, you’re going to tell me everything!” Emily shouted out the door. “And I mean everything!”
When she arrived at reception, Julie was busy helping a guy at the front desk. Vivienne waited for her in the oversized wingback chair beside the grandfather clock.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” Julie said, carrying an olive green folder across the room.
“It’s okay.” Vivienne tapped on her knees. “I don’t have anything to do until ten.”
“We’ve been doing an overhaul of our records, and I’m making sure all my t’s are crossed in case Leadership decides to have a look.” Julie nodded to someone in the hallway behind Vivienne.
A woman with dark brown hair waited in the shadows. The stranger stepped into the filtered spring sunshine and asked, “Is this Vivienne?” in a crisp British accent.
“It is.” Julie handed the woman the folder she carried. “Vivienne, this is Mary.”
Mary opened the cover of the folder, then closed it again.
“Hi.” Vivienne waved.
Mary tilted her head and smiled. “Thanks for this, Julie. I can handle it from here. Vivienne, come with me to my office so we can get everything squared away for Monday.” She turned back to the shadows.
Vivienne followed Mary’s rigid frame down the windowless hallway, past a number of tall wooden doors, and into a bright, airy office with furniture that looked like it came out of an IKEA catalogue. There wasn’t a single personal touch or family photograph on the desk or bookshelves. The only decoration Vivienne could see was a large, polished hourglass resting near the desk’s edge.
Mary motioned to a straight-back office chair across the desk. “Before we begin,” she said, taking her own seat, “I must ask if you feel adequately prepared for your first mission.” She wiped her hand across her organized desk. “In most cases, we train recruiters for six months before allowing them into the field.”
The seat back dug into Vivienne’s spine when she sat up straighter. “I’m ready.” Her own doubt-filled recruitment experience made her feel confident that she could convince a fellow skeptic to come to Neverland.
“And do you feel committed enough to Neverland to recruit new members?”
Committed? What kind of question was that? “Of course I’m committed.”
“Is that so? I have it on good authority that you attended a meeting at Lee Somerfield’s home last night.” Her voice tightened when she said his name.
“I listened to him talk for a few minutes.”
“I understand how…enticing his ideas may sound.” Her green eyes narrowed. “But Leadership’s official view on Lee and his uprising is not favorable. If you’re unhappy about something, I encourage you to bring your complaints to me so that I can take them to Leadership.”
“I’m not unhappy about anything.”
“That’s good to know.” She picked a pen out of her top drawer and opened the folder Julie had given her. “I heard you went out with my son last night.”
Oh no . . . The bagel in her stomach turned sour. Mary was Deacon’s mom. How much did she know? Vivienne decided to play it safe. She shrugged and, as casually as she could, said, “We had dinner and talked about our mission.”
“Our mission?” Mary’s head snapped up. “I assigned Ethan as your partner.”
“That’s not what the guy said in our meeting yesterday.”
“Oh, Deacon…” Mary closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Is something wrong?”
“My son,” she clipped, “will not be going to Maryland with you.” She handed Vivienne a document and pen and told her to read it over and sign at the bottom.
Vivienne stared at the block of legal text in front of her. Was this a foreign language? She couldn’t understand a word of it. “Why not?”
“The last time Deacon partnered with a female recruiter, the two of them spent more time in bed with one another than doing their actual job.” Her lips pressed into a tight grimace. “Being a recruiter is difficult enough without extra distractions—and unfortunately, Deacon is known for his distractions.”
Was that all she was to him? Another distraction? No, no. She was an exception, not a distraction. He wanted to have a relationship with her.
“I love my son very much,” Mary went on, “but he doesn’t have a very good track record where women are concerned. He tends to…get what he wants,” she said slowly, her narrowed eyes conveying her meaning, “and then move on without remorse.”
Get what he wants.
Vivienne knew exactly what that meant.
She added a shaky signature to the bottom of the page and returned it to Mary. “Is there anything else I need to sign?” She hated that her voice broke on the last word.
“No. You’re free to go.”
She tore through the hall and nearly rammed into a broad chest in the main waiting area. Thankfully, a pair of strong arms cushioned the collision.
“Good morning, girlfriend.” Deacon offered her a breathtaking smile.
“Hey, Dash!” Julie rounded the desk at a clip. “What brings you our way?”
Vivienne couldn’t do this. Not here. “Let me go,” she whispered.
He dropped his hands and searched her expression. His forehead creased, seemingly with concern. He answered Julie’s question, but his eyes remained on Vivienne. “I missed a call from my mother. I was passing and thought I’d stop by instead of calling her back.”
“She’s free at the moment if you want to see her.” Julie ushered him toward Mary’s office.
“Thanks, Julie. I’ll call over in a bit, all right, Vivienne?” He frowned at her.
Vivienne shook her head and raced to the door.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Vivienne’s eyes had been filled with tears, her face flushed. Deacon was about to go after her when he noticed his mother’s office door was open. If Vivienne had been to see her, that would explain why she was so upset.
Inside the office, his mother’s back was to the door as she spoke in low tones to someone on the phone. “I understand…Yes…Yes…Are you sure there’s no other—” She fell silent. “Yes. All right.” She dropped her mobile onto the desk and put her head in her hands.