by Amy DeLuca
Her expression grew more troubled as she appeared to accept her fate and began to realize what it all meant. “My things are still back at the hotel—my laptop, my clothes—I only have two days’ worth with me. And where will I sleep?” she asked.
“Harrison will go to the Viking and check you out, pack your things, and bring your bags here. Whatever else you need I can order and have delivered. If you’re worried about the potential awkwardness of living in the same house, don’t be. It’s a big place. I can assure you—we won’t be seeing much of each other. I have no desire to spend any further time with you.”
Jack extended his hand, palm up. “I’ll take that phone now.”
Bonnie’s mouth dropped open, then her jaw hardened. “Do I at least get a call first?”
“A call?” he barked an incredulous laugh. “What part of ‘no contact with the outside world’ did you not understand?”
Her chin jutted out. “I believe one phone call is standard procedure for all prisoners.”
“You’re not in a prison. You’re in a mansion.”
“Am I allowed to leave?”
“No.”
“Then it’s a prison. I need to call my boss Charlotte. I’ll have to tell her I won’t be coming in to work on Monday—and try to explain this whole mess in a way that won’t get me fired.”
Bonnie flopped back into the desk chair and covered her face with her hands. “Who am I kidding? There is no way to explain this that won’t get me fired. Charlotte won’t have a choice. Not without the article. And I was snooping around in your office—well, I wasn’t but that’s what it looked like. It doesn’t matter if I’m away for four weeks or four months because there won’t be a job to go back to.”
Jack studied her distraught face. Then he stretched out his hand again. “Your phone please. The recorder, too.”
She was clearly furious, but Bonnie complied, removing the electronic devices from her purse and slapping them into his palm.
“This is insane. You’re insane, you know that? I hope you’re ready for a little chat with the Rhode Island state police because Charlotte will call them when I just disappear with no explanation.”
Ignoring her, he opened the contacts list on her phone and tapped one. When someone picked up, he said, “Hello, may I speak with Charlotte please?”
“May I tell her who’s calling?” the receptionist at the New York Daily Report asked.
“Yes. This is Jack Bestia.”
“Oh.” The woman giggled, sounding breathless. “Yes, Mr. Bestia. I’ll get Ms. Chabot right away.”
While on hold, Jack glanced over at Bonnie’s face. Her eyes were wide, and her forehead was creased with worry lines. She looked like she’d just spotted the Grim Reaper heading her way. He shot her a sardonic smile as her boss took the call.
“Hello? This is Charlotte Chabot.”
“Hello Charlotte. Jack Bestia. I’m here with Bonnie Hamelin.”
“Yes. Hi Jack. How’s it going? Everything all right?” Jack could tell she was surprised by his call. Well, she was about to be a whole lot more surprised.
“Not exactly.”
Bonnie’s expression fell into one of despair. She closed her eyes and shrank back into the chair.
“Oh? What’s going on?” Charlotte asked, the concern obvious in her voice.
“I’m afraid I’m going to need Bonnie to stay a bit longer,” Jack said. “The interview went great, but well… I made a mistake.”
Now Bonnie’s eyes popped open, and she sat forward again, listening intently.
“I let a few spoilers slip,” he continued. “It was careless of me, and I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t feel comfortable with Bonnie returning to New York just yet, knowing what she knows about the new book.”
“I’m sure Bonnie wouldn’t divulge confidential information,” Charlotte assured him. “I read our copy of the contract she signed about non-disclosure.”
“I know. I’m sure you’re right. But… after what happened with the Onyx-gate spoiler incident, I can’t help but feel leery about it. And I’m sure you read in the contract Bonnie signed that I’m well within my legal rights to require her to stay here until my editor’s deadline date. You’ll still get your article and any other work Bonnie needs to complete. Besides, it’ll give us a chance to do a more in-depth interview. Just imagine… instead of ‘A Conversation With Jack Bestia’ you could have ‘A Month In Jack Bestia’s World.’ I’ll make sure she has everything she needs to work remotely from here.”
There was a moment of silence before Charlotte responded. “Just so I have this straight… you want her to stay at your house? For the next four weeks? Is Bonnie okay with this?”
“Of course. Here, I’ll let you speak with her.”
Jack offered the phone to Bonnie, who looked like she might be going into shock. He was fairly confident she wouldn’t contradict his story. After all, he hadn’t told her boss about her snooping. More importantly, he’d agreed to go ahead with the article. He had literally just saved her job.
Fumbling with the phone, Bonnie finally managed to bring it up to her ear. “Yes,” she said. “Fine. Fine. Yes, he was great.”
Her eyes flashed up to Jack’s. “Oh sure. I’m excited. It’s a great opportunity. And there’s plenty of room. I could do worse than living and working in a seaside mansion for a month.”
There was a long pause as she listened to whatever her boss was saying. Or asking. She shook her head, blushing and giving a weak laugh before answering.
“No. Nothing like that. Yes, okay I will.” Another pause. “All right, I’ll tell his staff to be on the lookout for the package. Okay. Thanks. Bye.”
She hit the button to end the call then stared up at Jack with dark, stricken-looking eyes as she returned the phone to his hand.
“Why did you do that?”
He couldn’t help but smirk. “What?”
“Lie. Save my job. Tell her she’ll get the article from me. I thought you were going to sue if I printed a ‘single syllable.’”
Jack shrugged. “I decided it was in my best interest for the article to run—as long as you keep your word and don’t include anything about what you found up in my office.” He gestured around them. “You can work in here if you’d like.”
Bonnie looked around at the library she’d claimed to love so much, her face a cross between hunger and despair.
“Charlotte is sending the books I’m supposed to read and review. But how am I supposed to write the reviews and the article if I’m not allowed to use my laptop?”
Jack walked over to the desk, opened the top drawer and withdrew a spiral notebook and a pen, tossing them onto the desktop without a word. Then he pulled her confiscated recorder from his pocket and handed it back to her.
“I’ll inform the staff about the new situation. Mrs. Potts will show you to your guest suite before she leaves for New York.” He turned and walked toward the library door then turned back. “And Bonnie… don’t try to escape, or your boss will get the real story—in gory detail. I’m good at those, you know.”
He’d almost reached the door when he heard Bonnie’s soft voice.
“Jack.”
Turning, he met her sad eyes and waited.
“I wouldn’t have told anyone, Jack. I’m… sorry things turned out the way they did.”
Jack inhaled deeply and exhaled before answering. “Yeah… me, too.”
Fourteen
When In Rome
One week later
Lifting her pen from the page, Bonnie shook out her sore hand.
She hadn’t written longhand since middle school. At first it had felt strange, but now, other than the occasional muscle cramp, she actually liked it. Something about putting pen to paper seemed to activate her brain in a different way—making her more creative and more prolific.
Without the distraction of the internet, she was working faster than she ever had in her life. She’d already finished reading an
d reviewing all the books Charlotte had Fed Exed to Rhode Island. The article on Jack was coming along. She’d even begun jotting down some ideas for a new book of her own.
Getting up to stretch her legs, Bonnie strolled around the perimeter of the library. Maybe it was being surrounded by the words of all these great authors. They’d written everything long-hand, hadn’t they? Maybe they knew something the modern tech addicts didn’t.
Though she was still highly annoyed at her imprisonment in the “Beast’s castle,” as she’d come to think of Jack’s house, Bonnie had to admit it wasn’t all bad. This room for instance. She loved the library and spent most of her time there. The whole atmosphere was inspiring and, well, homey. The cozy ever-burning fireplace, the warm glow of the lamps, the scent of leather and books.
She stopped in front of one of the shelves, perused the titles, and selected one. Carrying the hardbound book to one of the big comfy leather chairs in front of the hearth, Bonnie sank into its welcoming plushness. Yep, things could definitely be worse.
Other than missing her father, staying in Jack’s house hadn’t been too much of a hardship… not that she’d ever admit that to Jack.
Of course, there hadn’t been a chance to say anything to him. True to his word, he’d avoided her like the plague. She only caught glimpses of him in passing every once in a while. He was like a shadow moving through his own house.
Bonnie hoped he was writing. She feared he wasn’t. Writer’s block could be insidious, brought on by any number of causes and turning into a vicious cycle. No doubt his dated back to his girlfriend’s betrayal and the leak of his original outline.
It appeared he’d basically dropped out of life since then, staying holed up here alone except for his staff, apparently not writing at all. What Bonnie had done probably hadn’t helped the situation.
A guilty ache curled through her stomach—about that and about dropping out of her own life to spend the past week in what amounted to her own personal Wonderland. Her room was incredible with an unobstructed view of the Atlantic Ocean and what had to be the world’s most comfortable bed.
Never in her life had Bonnie lived in a place so luxurious, or eaten three meals a day prepared by an award-winning French chef, or taken a daily walk on a gorgeous beach—or spent hours at a time reading anything and everything her heart desired.
She drew the line at wearing the clothes Jack had ordered from a Newport boutique. Her jaw had dropped when she’d opened the door to the walk-in closet in her room on the second day of her imprisonment. Row upon row of incredible outfits hung on the rods, the matching shoes lined up beneath them.
Unable to resist, she’d tried one of the dresses on. Yes, she was mad at Jack, but she was still a girl.
It had fit like a dream, and the fabric had felt like heaven against her skin. But one look at the price tag had Bonnie choking on her morning cup of tea. And all the clothes were decidedly on the sexy side. As if.
Jack had pinned a sarcastic note to the outside of the closet door.
Be my guest.
Bonnie took the dress off again and hadn’t touched the new clothes since. She wasn’t sure why he’d bought them. If Jack thought he could buy her forgiveness or a positive spin on the article, he had another thing coming.
She’d been alternating between the two outfits she’d brought along, and Phoebe the housemaid had been kind enough to wash them for her. It wasn’t like Bonnie would be running into any fashion critics between her room and the library.
Besides, it was only three more weeks. Jack’s deadline for Anthem in Obsidian would come, and she’d… go. Bonnie would leave this place and never see Jack Bestia—or anyone else here—again.
The thought sent a twist of emotion through her. She’d grown rather fond of Phoebe, as well as the kitchen maid Simone, and Calvin the gardener, Monsieur Laplume, and of course, the butler, Harrison.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Harrison came into the library, holding her phone. “It’s time for your daily call with your father, miss.”
Bonnie reached for the phone, eager to hear her dad’s voice. Harrison took a seat in the chair next to hers, prepared to listen in on the conversation as directed by the master of the house.
Jack had relented on this one contract stipulation, allowing her to speak with her father so long as Harrison listened in on this end, and Mrs. Potts listened on the other.
Dad picked up on the second ring. “Hello? Bonnie lass?”
“Hi Dad. How are you today?”
“Fantastic. How are you?”
“Fantastic, huh?”
He did sound happy. Exceptionally so. Each day she called he seemed to be in a good mood. Make no mistake, she was happy he was happy. It was just… unusual. The loss of his eyesight followed by the loss of her mom had left him in a depressed state for the better part of the last year.
“What are you up to?” Bonnie asked.
“Well, Aileen and I have just had a lovely lunch.”
“Aileen?”
“Potts. Mrs. Potts. You didn’t know her name’s Aileen?”
“I did. I just didn’t realize you two were on a first-name basis.”
“Charming woman,” he said. “We were about to watch some Netflix.”
Bonnie almost choked over her surprise. “Really? Would you mind if I speak to her a minute?”
“Of course. I’ll get her for you.” She heard some shuffling of the phone and then Ail—Mrs. Potts’ voice.
“Hello dear. Is everything all right with you? Are you settling in comfortably?”
“Yes, I’m fine. How’s my father doing?”
“Oh, Bill is a delight. We got to talking yesterday about Newport and ended up chatting for hours. I think he knows more about my hometown than I do. When I get back, I’ll have a whole new list of things to see and do.”
Mrs. Potts sounded younger on the phone than she did in person. Or maybe she just sounded happy. Giddy might have been a more appropriate word. What exactly was going on there with those two?
“I see. That’s nice,” Bonnie said, bemused. “I’m glad you’re getting along so well.”
“We are. And your father’s agreed to escort me to a Broadway show tomorrow evening. He says a lady shouldn’t go out alone at night in the city.”
And her blind father would be such an excellent bodyguard, no doubt. “Sounds like fun. Is he eating decently?”
“The man eats like a horse,” Mrs. Potts exclaimed. “You’d think he’d never tasted home cooking before.”
Nope. Just mine. Obviously, her father was more partial to what Mrs. Potts had on the menu.
“That’s good to hear,” Bonnie said.
Before she could ask her to put Dad back on the phone, Mrs. Potts asked, “How is Jack? Is he behaving like a gentleman?”
“He’s not not behaving like a gentleman. I haven’t seen much of him. He keeps to himself.”
“He’s hiding,” Mrs. Potts said baldly, her disapproval plain as day. “He’s so afraid of being hurt again, poor boy, he’s shut himself down. It’s very hard for him to trust, you know. You must be patient with him.”
“It’s fine. As long as we’re civil, I can get through the next few weeks. Then I’ll be back to take care of Dad, and we can both have our old lives back.”
“Oh I wouldn’t wish Jack’s life on anyone.”
“What do you mean? He’s rich and famous and successful.”
“He’s lonely,” Mrs. Potts said. “He’s cut himself off from the world. No one can be happy like that—least of all him.”
Bonnie didn’t want to be curious. After the horrid way he’d behaved, she didn’t want to know anything more about Jack, but she had to ask. “Why ‘least of all him?’”
“It might not be obvious on first meeting, but he craves connection more than just about anyone I’ve ever known,” the older woman explained.
“He was the most affectionate little boy—once he accepted me. At first, he was too afraid I’d d
isappear like his mother. And he and Hunter both were scarred by the way their father behaved after their mother’s death. The man had always been a drinker, but it got out of hand after he lost his wife. Those poor boys. Sometimes life truly isn’t fair. They’ve both had their share of fallout from it all. I think it hit Hunter a bit harder, but it wasn’t easy on Jack, either. He wouldn’t allow himself to get close to anyone, not even me. But once he finally opened up… well it’s like the old saying, ‘Some things are worth the wait.’ Once you get to know the real Jack, he’s the kindest, most loving, most generous young man who ever lived.”
“Is that so?” Bonnie found it hard to picture.
“Oh yes. When he made it big with his books, he wanted to give me an embarrassing sum of money—just give it to me—for a ‘nest egg,’ he said. I refused to accept it. So then he started insisting he needed a housekeeper to help him run his big new home. He said there was no one else he could trust with the job, and that I could set my own hours.”
She chortled. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I knew he was pressuring me to take the job because he wanted me to be taken care of. He didn’t want me to be alone. Well, when I checked my bank balance after the first paycheck was deposited… I was gob-smacked. I was afraid the banker would think I was money-laundering or had robbed a jewelry store or some such thing.”
Bonnie laughed. “No one would ever think that about you.”
“That’s what Jack said. My account is so big at this point, I’d never have to work another day in my life, but I can’t bear to leave him all alone there in that monstrosity of a house. He has all this wealth and no one to lavish it on. There’s his brother Hunter, but he’s busy with his own life. Jack loaned him money to start his own business, and the boy works practically around the clock.”
“He mentioned Hunter and his company. He didn’t tell me about the loan, though.”
“He wouldn’t have. Jack is very private as I’m sure you’ve gathered. Even more so after what that dreadful girl Claudia did—I never liked her. But I assure you, he’s like an oyster hiding a valuable pearl—worth the effort.”