“Like I said, it was dumb.”
“In my experience, the two have always been one and the same. But with you …” His jaw tics, eyes on my lips. “I’d find it very difficult to let you go. My confrontation with you would be on a much more personal level.”
Another cryptic response that doesn’t fit the sex only rules I’ve come to know with other guys. “Then, I trust you won’t stand me up tonight.”
“It would take an act of God to keep me away.” Another small kiss, before he pushes the button to open the elevator door and exits toward the front entrance, while I make my way toward the office.
When I enter the room, Laura is parked in her wheelchair beside Nell, who sits with her hands fidgeting in her lap. Offering a stilted smile, Rand gestures toward the empty chair beside Nell, and my stomach flips over on itself as I plop down beside her. Now that I know the purpose of this meeting, all I want to do is disappear.
Clearing his throat, Rand entwines his fingers and stares over the top of his spectacles. “It’s come to my attention that there has been some discussion regarding Master Blackthorne’s involvement in the disappearance of his son.”
The moment the words are out in the air, I can feel Nell’s stare burning into the side of my face.
“As you were made aware, when you first took the position here, the master values his privacy above all else. Gossip, of any kind, is frowned upon.” As he prattles on, my mind is spinning with questions, like why the hell was I asked to sit through this? and why was Laura hustled out of bed so early this morning to sit through this as well?
“If this is about me, I haven’t said shit.” Nell crosses her arms, sinking down into her chair.
I shoot her a glare. If she thinks she’s going to pin this on me, she’s wrong. Lucian knows the truth.
“And what about you, Miss Quinn?” Rand turns his gaze on me this time.
“What happened with his son was before my time here. From what I have come to know of Lu--um, Mister Blackthorne, I’ve no reason to believe he’s harmed anyone.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Nell bites back, the anger radiating off of her. “Not when your lips are practically sewn together.”
Cheeks heating with embarrassment, I avoid looking at Rand, and Laura, in particular. “What I do is none of your business.”
“If you don’t want anyone in your business, perhaps you should be a bit more discreet.” If I didn’t happen to know she’s terrified of Lucian, I’d think the bite in Nell’s tone screamed of jealousy.
“It’s funny you should mention that, Miss Anders.” Rand presses the button on a remote that’s set out in front of him on the desk, and the wall behind him slides open for a flat-screen television. When he clicks another button on the remote, the screen lights up to show Laura’s sitting room. At the sound of Laura’s screaming in the background, the older woman perks up from where she’s sat quietly in her wheelchair the whole time. In the scene onscreen, it seems she’s having one of her nightmares, though it’s out of the camera’s view to know for sure. A figure staggers into the room, and when he turns around and falls on the couch, I recognize Lucian, with his tie undone, his shirt unbuttoned, holding a glass of liquor.
At first, I think it’s the night I went to check on Laura that first week, but I notice Lucian’s tie is burgundy in this clip, not black like before.
“In an effort to be thorough, I’ve done some digging around, and I found this.” He fast-forwards the video, and from the corner of my eye, I catch Nell shifting in her seat.
In time lapse, another figure enters the room onscreen, and Rand plays the video at normal speed once again.
Lucian appears to be passed out, where he lies back on the couch, his hand covering his face. The second figure is Nell, who stands over him with her head tipped, as if curiously watching him. When she kneels down between his thighs, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t bring myself to look at her, as I sit paralyzed, watching her make a move on him in his sleep.
Nell shifts again and clears her throat. “We get it. I fucked up, okay?” The nervous edge in her voice is as uncanny as her behavior in the video. Like watching two completely different personalities.
“Ah, well, I think it’s important to establish a motive in these cases,” Rand says, his attention seemingly fixed on the screen.
As she unzips his pants and springs his cock free on camera, I feel compelled to look away. It’s like watching something forbidden take place. Something I shouldn’t be privy to, but I can’t stop watching because I need to know how far she goes. The moment she takes Lucian in hand, he startles awake.
“What are you doing?” The slur in his voice confirms that he’s drunk. “Stop.”
“Shhhh,” she says, swatting his hand away when he reaches for her arm. “Just relax.”
“Get the fuck off of me!” He shoves her hard enough to send her tumbling backward onto her ass, and fumbles to zip up his pants. Pushing up from the couch, he stands over her, swaying a bit. “You ever touch me again, I’ll make sure you never work another job on this island,” he says, before striding off, out of the camera’s view.
Rand pauses the video, and when he turns around, there’s a smirk twisting his lips. “It seems rejection is a rather touchy thing for you, Ms. Anders.”
“He came onto me first, before that video.”
“No, I don’t think that’s true. Master Blackthorne has remained ever professional in his interactions with you. It is you who have behaved inappropriately.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“He’s not told me anything regarding this incident. I had to find it myself. And on the grounds that you have failed to uphold your end of the contract, I’m afraid we’ll be letting you go.”
“What? Letting me go? You can’t … I need this job.”
Suddenly, she’s concerned about her job? I want to tell her she should’ve thought of that before she decided to smear the boss’s name, but I guess some people are clueless.
“I’m sorry, but it is a conflict of interest to allow you to stay.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Conflict of interest? How?”
“I understand you’ve been reporting back to a private investigator, who’s been busy trying to build a case against the Blackthornes and Doctor Powell.”
The look on Rand’s face reminds me of those cop shows, when the detective finally calls bullshit and all hell breaks loose. Who knew that people still hired private investigators? I always thought that was a low-budget TV thing.
“You’ve certainly contributed to that with your lies and gossip,” Rand continues.
“I’ve been documenting care, as I am directed to do. If he’s gained unauthorized access to my progress notes, that has nothing to do with me.”
Tipping his head, Rand narrows his eyes on her and opens the drawer beside him. He pulls out a photograph that’s slightly grainy, like it’s been blown up to a larger size, and pushes it in front of her. In it, she’s sitting across from a man I don’t recognize, smiling in a way I’d consider flirtatious even if I’d never met the woman. “You’ve spent quite a bit of time with Mr. Goodman, it seems.”