“Miss McMillian, are you hungry?” Grady asks from his seat at the dining table, folding closed what appears to be a newspaper.
“No. But I’m hangry.”
“Hangry?” he repeats, cocking his head.
“Yes, hangry. You know when you’re so hungry you turn into a crazed maniac, one who will kill violently if food isn’t delivered immediately.”
His eyebrows rise before a placid smile exposes the cute dimple in his chin. “Well, we better get you something to eat then. I’m not sure I’m interested in becoming the murder victim of a hangry lady.”
I giggle, making my way to the staircase. “Well, just let me get out of these work clothes and put on something a little more comfortable. I’ll be right with you. I’m sure you know all the best places we can go in town to eat.”
“No!” he barks in a stern tone, standing a short distance from me. “Miss McMillian, I’m under strict instructions that you are to remain here. I’ll get some takeaway for you instead.”
My mouth drops open, and I’m instantly cranky. “Strict instructions? By whom? Let me guess, Mr Klein?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Pfft … I’m going out to eat. It’s Sydney. I want to see the sights. We’re going out, Grady. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re the driver, right?”
His eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t answer.
“I’m guessing, in some way, I’m your boss, yes?”
He still doesn’t say a word, but the look of amusement on his face tells me he finds this statement entertaining.
Trying to remain confident, I clear my throat. “Now be a sweetheart and fire up the car, will you? Give me twenty minutes to get ready.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” He puffs out his chest in a way that exerts authority. “We eat here tonight.”
“Well, either you take me, or I’ll catch a taxi. Your choice.” I glare, trying to gauge if this ploy might work. “Grady, we’ll be back before Marcus finishes at his dinner thing, I promise. He’ll be none the wiser. I can keep a secret if you can.” Turning on my sexiest pout, I think maybe, just maybe, he’s coming around.
“He said you can be quite persuasive.”
“So?”
“I really shouldn’t … I could get fired you know.”
“You won’t get fired. Nobody will ever know. It’ll be our secret.”
“Miss McMillian, the answer is a firm no.”
“Taxi it is then,” I huff, turning and taking the first four stairs up the staircase.
“Wait!” he calls out.
I can’t help but smile before coming face to face with his now worried expression.
“Fine, I’ll take you. At least if I do, I’ll know you’re safe.”
“Exactly. See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”
He grins. “Marcus didn’t lie about how stubborn you are, that’s for sure.”
“Hmm. Marcus seems to think he knows a lot about me.”
“Of course he does. You’re his Abigail.” As quickly as the words are expelled from his lips, his hand launches upwards, pressing firmly across his mouth. Golden eyes turn a shade of honey in panic, and I know immediately Grady has spilled a secret, one never meant to be spilled.
“Say what now?” My heart hammers hard in my chest.
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” His tone is soft as he lowers his hand to his waist.
“No, no. I heard that loud and clear. Tell me what you know.”
“Miss McMillian, I’ll be waiting in the car for you. Please be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Grady, please.”
His gaze is gentle before he turns around and walks gingerly to the door.
My hammering heart leaps into my throat as I race after him, gripping a handful of his suit jacket to keep him from leaving. “ I need to know, please?” Sweat dampens my forehead, the back of my neck.
“I can’t help you with this.”
“Why won’t any fucker tell me what the fuck is going on? How do I know Marcus? Have I met you before? Katherine?”
“Abigail, please. I said more than I ever should have. Unhand me.”
“No. You have to tell me!”
Shaking his head, Grady whispers, “I can’t.”
My grip loosens, my stomach drops, and my mind whirls with inconsistencies.
“Abigail, I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” I grunt.
“For saying anything.” Slipping his arms from the jacket, he exits using the front door. I don’t allow my eyes to leave him until it shuts.
“What is going on?” I plead aloud.
A million questions soar through my mind. Grady’s jacket hangs limply from my fingertips as I realise just how much I want to go home and forget I ever laid eyes on Marcus Klein.
Sydney is turning out to be a bigger nightmare than I could have ever imagined because nobody can forget somebody like these two are making out.
I think I just lost my appetite.
TWENTY-THREE
Breaking Rules
The sound of crystal tinging catches my attention. My eyes lift wearily from the jet-black plate, almost vacant of food. The faces of four Asian people, two women and two men, sit smiling, while a fifth male stands. He’s much older than the others, with a face aged from time. Seeming pleased, he puffs out his chest before tobacco-stained fingers rub at a well-groomed moustache.
The restaurant Grady drove us to is small in size, but very public. A busy footpath endlessly fills with commuters as we enjoy our meals. Every time my eyes meet the road beyond these glass walls, I see passing strangers of all shapes, sizes, ages, and races, glancing in. I’m captivated by these five humans who, in this moment, seem oblivious to this invasion of privacy, much too engrossed in their own celebration.
“My beautiful daughter Leeha, how we love you with the entirety of our hearts.” The man’s voice is filled with pride. “Your mother and I … we couldn’t be prouder than we are today. You did it, our daughter, our now graduate. You’re an amazing woman and a wonderful gift to have received. You’ve given us so much, Leeha, and asked for so little in return. For that we’re grateful.”
“Here! Here!” say the voices of their guests as the young woman closest to us wipes at tears falling freely down her face with the backs of her hands.
“Wow! How lovely,” I mutter.
“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Grady states the obvious.
“So very pretty and smart by the sounds of that.”
“Yes, smart.” His voice sounds distant. “Miss McMillian, did you enjoy your meal?” he asks.
“Seriously, Grady, can you just call me Abigail? I hate being Miss McMillian.”
“Sorry. Abigail, did you enjoy your meal?”
“Better. And yes. The glazed pork cutlets were delicious, as you said they would be. This was just what I needed. Thank you for bringing me here even though I was worried I’d lost my appetite.”
“Well, by the looks of your plate, there was no need to worry. I’d say that meal is demolished.”