“Well, then let’s do three thousand. But you leave here today and you don’t come back.”
“I need to think.” And breathe. Is it hot in here? And why did I grab his face? Alex doesn’t like to be touched—at least he didn’t back when we were younger. He didn’t flinch or pull away, though.
My mind suddenly wanders to that kiss, that kiss that made my toes curl and my heart race. It’s the most we’d ever touched, although he kept me slightly at arm’s length, holding my head instead of my body. Nevertheless, it was wonderful. Before then, even an errant brushing of hands while playing in my stables caused him to jerk away sometimes.
“Jesus Christ, what is there to think about?” he bursts out crudely, again. “I’m paying you well, according to you. Let’s go. Come on.”
“The owners of this club have been loyal to me and helped me when I needed it. I can’t just quit on them without any notice.” He looks at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time.
“There are no friends, Helen. There are no loyalties. There’s business and there’s numbers. I’m offering you more money and it would be dumb not to accept it.”
“God, you’re cold and hardened,” I say, sadly. No friends? No loyalties? “And even though friendships and loyalties are easily broken for some,” and I look at him pointedly, “for me, they mean a lot.” This has taken well over ten damn minutes and has aged me ten damn years. I shouldn’t even be considering this. Working for an Archer. The most disloyal family ever. Even for the amount of money he’s offering…I’d be selling myself to the devil.
“I really do need help. It’s not a pity job. I don’t have time to interview people and find someone.”
“Are you going to act like you hate me while I’m working there?”
“We have a lot of history.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Except it answers one: he does hate me.
“The only thing I know, Helen, is that I’m prepared to toss you over my shoulder and haul your ass right out of here. And that’s not something I can explain. So, I’d advise you to take the insane amount of money I’m offering you instead.”
I consider his words. And then I consider this: I don’t want to work on the second floor of Duality.
“I can’t say that I understand you, but I also can’t say no to the offer.”
He runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t fucking understand it myself, but I am glad you’re accepting it.”
“When do I start?”
There’s a noticeable release of breath on his end. “Monday. But you leave with me right now.”
“Fine, but I need to talk to Iggy and Matt about it first.”
He rolls his eyes, annoyance radiating through his body.
“They’re my friends. You may not understand it or have any of your own, but I do. Letting them know I’m quitting is the least I can do after all they’ve done for me. I may also need to help them make arrangements to get someone to cover for me.”
He groans, loudly.
“I can see working together is going to go splendidly.” I glare at him as I brush past him to find my bosses.
Alex
It’s my turn to wait outside while she talks to her bosses.
I’m surprised she didn’t just run out with the money I just handed her and the offer I made her. She doesn’t need these people; why is she being so accommodating to them?
Meanwhile, she didn’t leave with me immediately and she didn’t exactly look thrilled at the prospect of working with me. Me! The injured party in her and her father’s scheming. She should’ve been kissing my feet, given all the help I’m giving her.
My patience is wearing thin.
Every time I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, she says something that spirals me into the past. Loyalty and friendship? That’s a bunch of bullshit. The Blackwoods only have loyalty to themselves, and friendships are quashed if it benefits them.
In fact, I was able to buy her out of her job.
What a hypocrite she is.
But…somewhere inside, I think she’s being truthful about having been homeless and feeling abandoned. And that thought makes me feel an odd sense of guilt. But it’s fleeting, because then I remember how her father screwed us and there’s no way she didn’t know about it. She can’t be as innocent as she’s making herself out to be.
While I wait impatiently, I text Bradley. “Found a new assistant.”
“On a Saturday, night?”
“I’ll explain later. Make arrangements with Monique.”
Monique has been helping me out whenever she can. In fact, she flew out last week and had my house prepared for my arrival. But I’m sure Bradley’s relieved that I found someone so he can get Monique back to Seattle sooner rather than later. The man can’t do a single thing without her.
“Who’d you hire? Did you run a background check on him or her?”
I think about how to word it and finally decide on, “Her. And no. Not yet. It’s an old acquaintance I ran into.”
“Old acquaintance? I know all your friends. Who is it? Regardless, you need to run a background. Is the person trustworthy?”
Fuck no. She’s the opposite of trustworthy. Damn it. “Have HR send me the paperwork and I’ll have her fill things out and send it back. Run everything quickly. I need her to start Monday.”
“Got it. I’ll have Monique stay until Tuesday. She can run things by the new person, get her up to speed. You have a first walk-through at PharmEc at nine in the morning and it’s going to take all day, I expect.”
Shit. That’s right. I won’t have a chance to talk much to Helen.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t give me the name of this mystery friend,” Bradley texts just as the door opens and Helen walks out with Matt and Iggy.
“Thanks again, guys. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done had you not given me a chance.”
“Don’t mention it, Helen. You’re family. We’ll stay in touch,” Matt says, and she gets on her toes and wraps her arms tightly around him. An unusual sensation flows down my spine at the sight. “Please thank Nick for me too.”
“Will do.”
“Don’t forget our doors are open if you ever want to come back,” Iggy offers, and she smiles at him before turning to me in surprise.
“You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“I’ll give you a ride home,” I say. It’s past midnight.
“I have a car, Alex.”
“Well, I’ll follow you home, then.”
“This is going to be a pain in my ass. I may be coming back sooner than I thought,” she grumbles to the two men, who are still standing by the door.
Matt laughs. “Have fun, man.”
“I thought you said she was a great employee.”
“Oh, she is…was. Doesn’t mean she’s not feisty.”
Iggy ignores our banter, turning to me with a serious face. “If you fuck her over in any way…” He eyes me intensely. I don’t like threats, so I glare right back at him.
“You’re not acting like you’re just a boss,” I growl back at him, but he doesn’t reply. He just turns and walks back into his office.
I wonder if there’s something between Iggy and Helen. And the fact that I’m wondering pisses me off.
I practically have to jog to follow her to her car. Damn. I look around the lot, not sure which is hers. Luckily, I catch a glimpse as she gets into an old car. Quickly, I hop into my rental and follow her.
We’re on the highway for about twenty minutes before she gets off in a part of town that isn’t making me feel any better about whatever it is that Helen’s been up to all these years. The more time I spend with her, which at this point is minimal, the more uneas
y I feel about what I imagined she’d been doing all these years. The pieces are not fitting together at all.
I don’t know Miami all that well yet, but this doesn’t look like a place I’d like to stay, much less live. She makes a few more turns and follows more curves, and then finally turns into the parking lot of a motel. The sign is blinking on and off, on the brink of falling apart. I look around and there are people loitering about. I’m not feeling good about this at all. I park my car and step out.
“You really followed me.”
“What are you doing here?”
She looks up at the two-level building. “I’m staying here. But just for a few more days.”
“Why? Why do you live here?”
“While I appreciate you giving me a job—and I won’t lie, I need it—you’re my boss, and that’s all. We don’t need to get personal. In fact, I have a lot of questions myself, but it’s not important anymore. So, I won’t ask, and I’ll expect the same in return.”
“You can ask me whatever you want and I’ll answer it.”
“I don’t want to know the answers because like I said, I need this job, and the answers you’re going to give me will make me not want to be around you. So, let’s respect the boundaries, shall we?”
She won’t like my answers? Ha! Isn’t that fresh? Helen Blackwood is no victim.
But that thought gets pushed aside as my apprehension builds when two men begin roughhousing in the corner close to where we’re standing. My worry about her living arrangements escalates.
“Helen.” I glare up at the building and then at her.
She places her palm firmly on my chest. “Stop. You chose to live your life. You Archers never gave a shit what happened to me after…after…” She shakes her head. “Let’s not pretend you give a shit now, okay? You need help and I need money. That’s all this is.”
“Helen…” I say again. But she’s right. I didn’t give a shit about her. That’s true. I was pissed that she ran off with millions in stolen money, part of which belonged to my father. I still don’t know if she did or didn’t. I’m starting to think she didn’t. No one could lose that much money that fast, and by the looks of where she’s staying, she’s seriously broke. “That bruise on your face…the last time…Is he here? Are you in an abusive situation?”
“If I don’t want to talk about money, you think I’m going to talk to you about my relationship?”
“This is different.”
“How so?”
“Stop being difficult, damn it. Just tell me. Is your ex here?”
“How’d you even know about Luke?”
“Your friends are worried.”
She exhales. “No. Luke isn’t here. He doesn’t know where I’m living. You don’t have to worry about him, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m tired, Alex.” She takes out her phone and unlocks it. “I need your number.” I take her phone, program my number into it, and then text myself from her phone so that I can have hers. “Send me your address. What time should I be at your office on Monday?”
“Eight. And it’s not my office. It’s my house. I have a few things going on while I’m in town, and mostly I’ll be working out of my home when I’m not in meetings.”
“Fine.” She takes her phone back and stuffs it in her pocket.
I’m waiting for her to walk safely into the apartment when she stops, turns around, and takes a tentative step toward me. “I know my father’s not guilty. You should know that before I walk into your house on Monday.”
The lines have been drawn.
“Noted.” Maybe she’s innocent, but there is no way in hell her father is.
“Good night, Alex.”
“Good night, Helen.”
Then she shuts the door behind her.
As a methodical and calculating man, hiring Helen like I did was out of character—impulsive and irrational.
Nothing good ever comes out of irrational behavior.
And I know there is no way this is going to end well.
With a niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach, I get in my car and drive away with one thought in my mind.
She can’t stay here. It’s not safe.
Chapter 7
Helen
At a quarter to eight, I turn off my car in front of a waterfront mansion in Key Biscayne. Of course, he would have the biggest, fanciest home in all of Key Biscayne. My beat-up car is out of place next to the luxury home. I look in my rearview mirror, and the black sedan that was parked next to my car yesterday morning, and followed me all day and again this morning, stops behind me.
I step out of my car, and so does the driver of the sedan. He’s a big, hulking muscle guy in a black suit that looks as if it’s going to rip at the neck and biceps. I grew up with money. I know what personal security looks like, and it looks like this guy.
I roll my eyes and try to ignore him as he stands by his car, his hands locked in front of him like a sentry. He’s not even pretending to blend in.
I haven’t been up this early in a very long time. In fact, I’m usually getting ready for bed at eight in the morning. I hope I don’t look as tired as I feel. Stifling a yawn, I ring the doorbell. I’m wearing one of my “other life” outfits. An off-white Donna Karan pantsuit, with a crisp blue shirt and my pearls. There are a lot of things I’ve had to sell, but my pearls, I haven’t had the heart to let those go. I think my mother would turn in her grave if I sold them. My pearls and the Limoges. Those are the only things I kept. The outfit, I was able to find at Goodwill yesterday.
A beautiful blonde in her thirties, dressed much like I am, opens the door. “Good morning, Ms. Blackwood, please come in.” Ms. Blackwood. Jesus. I should correct her.
“Uh—”
“Mr. Archer is on a teleconference, but he advised me that you’d be arriving soon. I’m Monique Adler; I’m going to be showing you around.” She’s talking a mile a minute and has a Bluetooth in one ear and phone in her hand.
“Oh, okay,” I say, a bit flustered as she steps aside to let me in.
Damn. The place is palatial.
I suppose most women would swoon at the marble floors, the huge chandeliers dripping crystals from the fifteen-foot vaulted ceiling, the original paintings hanging on the walls, the monstrous and completely useless fireplace in the corner. Except, my childhood home had even more grandeur than this one.
Sometimes I wonder whether it’s better to have had it all and then lost it or to not have had anything in the first place. Knowing and living life’s luxuries and then having it all ripped away was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. I know it makes me seem like a spoiled socialite, but the fact is, I truly wasn’t prepared for it.
I was prepared for college. For galas. For heading a charity. For marrying a wealthy politician or doctor and being charged with managing the household or a nonprofit. I was not prepared for Laundromats and rent. For asshole exes who have drinking problems and anger issues. For minimum-wage jobs, and certainly not for Goodwill clothes. Yet, I managed.
I survived.
I landed a good job, bought a nice home in a good part of town, made genuine friends like Gina and some of the people from work, and judging by the tips I generally received, people seem to like me. Life has been good the last couple of years and I had been feeling content, which is something that I thought would never happen. Not without all the material things I’d lost.
And then, bam! This damn mansion reminds me of all that I’ve lost within five minutes of standing inside it.
And all I can still lose if I don’t get rid of Luke.
“Have a look around—I’ll be right back,” Monique says, pointing to her earpiece. Her voice fades as she marches out of the room.
I stroll a
round the large room and run my fingers over the shiny black lacquer of the grand piano, then keep moving until I’m at a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the bay on one side and on the opposite side, a racquetball court.
A crew of employees are working on the overgrown hedges, while another group is scrubbing a huge gazebo that has what looks like a full kitchen, next to an enormous swimming pool.
“Sorry about that,” Monique says, startling me. I turn to see her looking down at her phone as she proceeds to tell me who I’ll be supervising on the grounds and when they come to work. For a brief moment I don’t even realize she’s talking to me, but then she quickly glances up, acknowledging my presence, before looking down again. “All of this information is on the server.” She points to a laptop on a small desk in the corner. “I’m with IT now, setting you up with email and access to Mr. Archer’s calendar.”
“Okay,” I say, but it comes out sounding more like a question. She looks up at me again and then blows out a long breath, her bangs flying up.
“I’m sorry.” She puts her phone down. “I’m not Mr. Archer’s PA. I’m just helping out, but I have my own needy man back in Seattle driving me crazy too.” She eyes her phone, which keeps dinging with incoming texts.
“Your husband?”
She throws her head back and laughs in earnest. “No! Bradley. I’m Brad’s PA. That’s Mr. Archer’s business partner. I’m sort of on loan, and the two of them are driving me batty!” She takes two steps forward and surprises me when she puts her hands on my shoulders. “Please. Do not quit.”
I laugh. “I just started.”
“I know. But when he starts barking orders and expecting you to read his mind you’ll want to quit. But don’t. I can’t handle two needy men in my life. One is enough,” she whines playfully, and I instantly like her.
“Well, I don’t know if I can handle orders being barked at me.” That’s not actually true. I was a bartender, after all. But she doesn’t need to know that.
“You can. Just set the tone starting from today. You stay professional and let him know you can handle things. But, also make sure he knows you won’t put up with a man-tantrum. So long as you don’t mess up, he’ll deal with a little bit of attitude if need be. That’s my tip…for the day, at least.” She looks down at her phone again and begins to type quickly. “One sec,” she says to me.
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