Lost and Found (Scions of Sin Book 4)

by Taylor Holloway

  “I’m sorry. I know it always makes me mad when I have to work a surprise shift.”

  He looked bemused. “The first thing my boss at Clark and Jeffries, Lou, taught me was to never get mad unless it serves a purpose.”

  I stifled a sigh. “I’ve never had such an iron grip on my emotions. I almost envy you. I’ve never had the ability to just kill the things I feel. You’re good at that.”

  Like how I felt after he kissed me senseless, pinned me up against a wall, and then basically just walked away. Or how crushed I was when he swore it would never work between us, how our lives were too different, our age gap too insurmountable. Killing those feelings of hurt and rejection would have been nice.

  “Eva—” he started, but I raised a palm up to stop him.

  “Don’t. Never mind. I shouldn’t have said that. Look, it was great running into you,” I said hurriedly, stepping back to put some space between us. We were adults who ought to be able to see one another without dredging up the past. “I wish I could stay and catch up, but I need to get in there. Today is my first day. Say ‘Hi’ to Dylan for me.”

  Charlie nodded. “Ok.” He looked confused, and I capitalized on his momentary weakness to flee.

  “Bye Charlie,” I blurted, turning on my heel and marching into the viewing room. I heard Charlie following me, but he was quickly intercepted by someone who knew him. I was running away, just like he had once upon a time. It didn’t feel good at all. I had to remind myself not to stomp all the way up the aisle to the corpse. I stared down at the dead woman with a sense of mourning that was not at all for her.

  “Eva?”

  A stranger tapped me on the shoulder with a tentative hand. I tore my gaze from the frozen face of Edith Durant and stifled my gasp of surprise. Deborah Durant Breyer, my employer, was the spitting image of her aunt Edith Durant. Mrs. Breyer was every bit as cold, stiff, and dignified as her voice on the phone. The resemblance in appearance and countenance between the two women—one living and one dead—was eerie.

  “Welcome to Philadelphia, Eva,” Mrs. Breyer said tightly. Her smile was pleasant, but it didn’t reach her green-blue eyes. She smoothed her black bob and then her grey tweed dress as she stepped back. I extended a hand and she looked surprised for a moment before reciprocating the handshake. Her grip was weirdly limp, and her fingers were freezing. “I appreciate you making the detour to meet me.”

  Do rich women not shake hands? Perhaps touching “the help” was simply repellent to her. I stood straight up and hoped I looked halfway dignified. I’d braided my baby fine, dark brown hair into a long plait before I got on the plane, but I could feel it escaping from all angles. Looking at the polished Mrs. Breyer made me feel more than a bit dumpy.

  I chocked down my emotions over Charlie and decided the formal approach was warranted. “Thank you, Mrs. Breyer. I’m delighted to be in Philadelphia, and to work for you. I can’t wait to get settled and meet Mr. Durant.”

  She smiled again, and it was slightly warmer this time. Yep, formal was definitely the right choice.

  “We’re delighted to have you,” she replied. “I never thought it would be so difficult to find a French-speaking, live-in RN. Dr. Matthieu was very enthusiastic about you coming aboard and I’m sure Dad will love you. Once he adjusts, that is. As we’ve discussed, he’s very set in his ways. But we can deal with all of that later. Here, I’ll introduce you to the family. Dad, because of his condition, obviously isn’t here today. This would only upset him.”

  Introductions to the members of the Durant clan who were present at the funeral were made so quickly and efficiently that they felt perfunctory. Mrs. Breyer’s attractively rakish son, David, her effortlessly handsome nephew, Alexander III, and her silver fox of a brother, Richard, shook my hand. Each looked me up and down with obvious interest. Before any conversation or pleasantries could be exchanged, however, Mrs. Breyer was glaring each of them into silence and leading me off. It felt extremely odd to be introduced to people I’d seen for years on television, especially in such a strange way. The Durant family’s extraordinary wealth, power, and fame set them somewhere between the Kennedys and the Kardashians in the public consciousness. Merely being in the same room with them felt positively surreal.

  “Keep in mind that you work for me, and not them,” she said quietly once we were out of earshot. “They know you’re off limits, but sometimes they forget. If any one of them gives you trouble, let me know.”

  I didn’t need to ask what she meant. Many of the men in her family were notorious womanizers and they were nearly as famous for their sexual conquests as their business achievements. The tabloids were littered with photographic evidence on a regular basis. David and Alexander III were only two of the four Durant heirs that made headlines with starlets and models. The other two, Nicholas and Nathan weren’t in attendance. I could only imagine they were off getting into trouble somewhere. Only Mrs. Breyer, daughter of the famous patriarch Alexander Durant, kept what could be considered a low profile. Despite the undeniable sex appeal of the Durant heirs, I was only here for one member of the family, and he was going to be a fulltime job.

  It was the Durant tendency for notoriety—or perhaps it was better described as infamy—that kept Charlie gainfully employed. The last thing I would ever want was to become the sort of problem that he cleaned up. My pride, and my brother, would never allow it.

  Teaser: Charlie

  After Eva escaped from me, I was cornered in the funeral home parlor by Lou. By the time I got away, Alexander Durant III intercepted me again.

  “Hello Charlie. Cute nurse, huh?” Alexander Durant III asked. We both watched Eva talking to Deborah for a moment before Alexander turned his attention to me. “So, what exactly are you here for? Some new crisis you’ve come to contain? Has my father done something exceptionally stupid this time?”

  Sadly, this was actually Alexander’s attempt at being pleasant and amiable. He’d sprung for a greeting before getting to the point. This meant he really wanted to know what Lou and I knew. He correctly interpreted my professional, polite, nonplussed silence as confirmation that there was a scandal of some type and then he laughed loudly enough to receive a glare from his uncle and an interested look from his cousin David.

  Great.

  David converged on Lou and me within moments. Lou, the smooth operator that he was, managed to pull Alexander and David out into the hallway and make it look casual instead of panicked. Neither of them seemed particularly saddened by their Aunt’s passing.

  “Spill counselor,” Alexander III ordered. He glowered at me in a way I’m sure he expected to work, but his father Alexander II had taught him that particular expression and did it better, and the patriarch Alexander senior did it even better than both of them when he wasn’t in the haze of Alzheimer’s. Plus, I was slightly older, slightly taller, and immeasurably tougher. Unlike any of the Durant clan, I grew up in the city of Philadelphia and not it’s cushy, pampered suburbs. I was immune to rich kid threats.

  “I’m afraid that client confidentiality demands—" I began.

  “Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud, Charlie. Get a load of this,” Lou interrupted, pulling out a file with screenshots of Angelica in various stages of undress and penetration. My jaw dropped open and I took several steps back and put my hand over my mouth. When did he make those? Why did he make those?

  The two Durant heirs looked at the pictures, then at Lou, then at one another in stunned silence.

  “Holy fuck, why would you bring that here?” David demanded. “This is our aunt’s funeral.”

  Lou tried in vain to defend his disgusting display, “You asked,” he sneered.

  “We did not ask you show us the gory, nasty details of Angelica’s sex tape,” Alexander interjected. “You two don’t show up for nothing. We both have a stake in this family’s financial interests, which means we have an interest in our legal issues. We just wanted to know what was going on.”

  “Preferably t
hrough an original interpretive dance,” David added. All of us gave him a weird look. “Or maybe not,” David amended with a shrug.

  “Did you know Lou was keeping photographic evidence of this, Charlie?” Alexander III asked me.

  I shook my head defensively.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Lou, you’re fucking fired.” It was Alexander that said it, but the two were clearly in agreement. Hell, even I was in agreement. Lou might be my boss, but there are some things you just don’t do. Lou had fucked up majorly. If those pictures were somehow misplaced… I was stunned he would do something so stupid.

  “You can’t fire me.” Lou seemed certain he was safe. “I don’t work for you. I just thought you four would think this was as funny as I do.”

  “You think it’s funny that Angelica Ellis’ sex tape almost became public without the consent of everyone involved? You printed out pictures that exposed her without her knowledge? That’s so majorly fucked up,” David sneered as Alexander headed back into the room, presumably to get his uncle Richard. Richard could definitely fire Lou. And me. I really hoped he wouldn’t fire me.

  “We can’t even have a normal funeral.” David was exasperated. I couldn’t say I blamed him. There was always some sort of drama when the Durant clan got together. It was as inevitable as the sunrise.

  Alexander III, David, and their absent cousins Nathan and Nicholas were some of the most wealthy, talented, and successful young men in the country. They’d been born into great wealth, but not entirely defined by it. Each had established themselves separate from family dynasty, which was not an easy trick.

  It was hard not to be jealous of them, although I’d observed that their lives weren’t quite as much of a cakewalk as people might think. The mega rich often have mega problems. These four definitely had mega egos. And like any young men of their age they were often also mega stupid. Still, even they realized that bringing photographic proof of Angelica’s sex tape to a funeral was not a great idea.

  Alexander III returned then with his uncle Richard, snatched the file out of Lou’s hands and opened it.

  “Whoever he is, the poor guy probably got the clap,” Alexander remarked as Richard thumbed through the photos. Lou shifted from foot to foot uncertainly.

  “Oh, is that how you got it Alex?” David was watching Alexander III with a mixture of amusement and disgust. “From Angie?”

  Alexander III glowered again but expression softened after a second. He shook his head in disgust.

  “No, Dave. There’s no way I’d touch that hellish woman without the safety if a hazmat suit,” Alexander III replied. “Probably not even then.”

  David and even Richard nodded sagely at Alexander’s assessment of Ms. Ellis. They clearly had an enormous dislike for her, despite being decent enough to stick up for her at this moment. It was a strange mix of chauvinism and chivalry. I wondered which one got his heart broken. Maybe all of them. Angelica Ellis was, admittedly, not ugly. She definitely wasn’t my type, however. As Sir Mixalot wisely asserts, silicone parts are made for toys. My type was Eva and always had been.

  “Lou, why the hell would you make copies?” Richard asked quietly, cutting through the ongoing flow of the Durant banter.

  “I thought it was funny,” he said. He seemed genuinely mystified by the reaction he was receiving. “I thought the boys here would agree.”

  “You idiot. Don’t you realize the value…Ok. You’re fired,” he said to Lou dismissively. Then he turned to me. “Charlie, you’re promoted.”

  Lou started to protest, but David and Alexander III were already on either side of him and preparing to frog-march him off the premises. I watched my boss of five years disappearing around the corner and took a deep breath.

  “Ok Charlie. I trust we won’t have any problems. You can’t be any dumber than Lou. Welcome to prime time.” Richard shook my hand and turned to go, then turned around and snapped at his nephews. “Get back in there and pretend you’re sad about Edith.”

  They scattered wordlessly.

  “They’re a bit like hyenas,” I remarked once we were alone in the hallway.

  “They can smell the blood,” Richard replied with a casual smirk. He looked vaguely proud of the fact, but then his expression hardened, and his smile faded. “Although this is not the way I would have liked you to be promoted, I do think you’re ready to take charge. I’ve also got a new project to discuss with you.”

  “What’s the project?”

  “This matter involves my late sister Edith.”

  I nodded.

  “What’s the issue?” I questioned, pulling out a small notebook and a pen from my pocket. I’d been looking forward to a full night’s sleep and a weekend where I actually had time to see Dylan and mom, but whatever.

  I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

  Teaser: Eva

  “It’s really something, isn’t it?” Paul asked as he drove us around the Durant Mansion and into the resplendent dozen-car garage. He chuckled good-naturedly at my open-mouthed expression and drummed his gloved hands on the steering wheel. “You’ll get used to it.” I felt fancy; my driver even wore driving gloves just like in the movies.

  “I’m not sure I will,” I admitted when I recovered the powers of speech a moment later. “I’m already overwhelmed, and we aren’t even inside yet.” I wanted to sit around and grouse about Charlie, but there was hardly time. I needed all my wits about me.

  In the Durant garage, I spotted a Lamborghini, a Maserati, and several makes and models of vehicles that I couldn’t identify. There was even a real, military grade, up-armored HMMWV (aka “Humvee”). I hadn’t seen one of those in years. I wasn’t entirely sure if civilians were allowed to have them or why they would ever need one. Paul, the live-in driver and mechanic who picked me up, must have had his dream job.

  How many great adventures start when a young ingénue arrives to a big house in the country? Too many. I hoped this experience would be closer to ‘The Secret Garden’ than ‘The Turn of the Screw’. Or ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’. I’d come here to escape the ER night shifts, a change of pace via change of place. But now that I was here, it was scary. Maybe Dylan was right about the Durants.

  In my defense, it was a place that easily inspired magniloquent thoughts. I learned that word for the SAT and had never found a proper use for it until I saw the Durant mansion.

  Paul led me down a series of beautiful, shadowy, ornate hallways. Acres of black marble and dark paneling passed by in a whirl and faded into a dull, baroque tableau in my memory. I could get lost forever in here. We saw no one else the whole time we walked.

  “Do I get a map?” I asked Paul hopefully. My voice echoed loudly against all the hard surfaces. He shook his head and grinned at me.

  “Within a week, you’ll have the layout down,” Paul promised me as we walked. He sounded much more confident than I felt. “It’s actually pretty simple once you memorize which paintings are where. That’s how I navigate. We mostly stay here in the east section. The family lives in the west section. If you ever hear the sound of basketball, you’ve probably gone too far. Alexander Jr. likes to turn up the TV to maximum.”

  More dark hallways. Miles of dark marble. Stairs, stairs, stairs. Eventually we arrived in my “room”.

  I almost laughed when I saw where I’d be staying. It looked like something out a fairy tale. I had a four-poster bed, a little living room, a kitchenette, a bathroom with a spa tub, huge windows, and a balcony. The entire thing was designed in a classic, beautiful sapphire blue and bright white pallet that would never look dated. This was where they put the household staff? I could only imagine where the real guests slept. I’d been expecting, well, a room. As in one room. This was all mine? I spun around in wonder.

  “Oh, good. You found it,” a new voice exclaimed as I was standing in the middle of my little palace with an increasingly bored-looking Paul. Both of us whipped around to see the petite, middle-aged, redheaded woman who had poked her head in and
spoken.

  “Welcome Eva! I’m Rita, the housekeeper. I heard you met Deborah this morning. Don’t worry. You won’t see much of her,” Rita said to me with a reassuring grin. “Deborah is actually the most normal of the four—three now, I suppose—children of Mr. Durant. Rich people, right? They’re a different breed.”

  I didn’t want to agree that my employer Mrs. Breyer had been bizarre in front of a total stranger, so I stayed quiet. The moment lengthened.

  “My room is very pretty,” I finally said. My voice sounded small and high-pitched in my ears. I was still extremely nervous, even though Rita and Paul seemed much nicer than Mrs. Breyer. “It’s so much more than I expected. What happens now?”

  Rita put a comforting hand on my shoulder. I instantly liked her. She reminded me of my dad: calm, collected, and authoritative.

  Rita’s voice was understanding and kind. “Now I’ll introduce you to everyone. And you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s perfectly normal. Meeting new people is always hard. It’s a lot to take in. Especially when you’re in a new place. Today will be a bit difficult, but soon this will start to feel like home. It will just take time. We’re a tight group here and we look after each other. You’ll see.”

  My next fifteen minutes were a whirlwind of pleasant introductions. In addition to Paul and Rita, I met Meredith, a pretty maid about my age, Isaac, the gardener, and Thomas, the nurse assistant I would be working with. Everyone was friendly, which was a huge relief.

  Disappointingly, I had not yet been introduced to Mr. Darcy, Mr. Rochester, Mr. Heathcliff, or any other romantic leading men at this mansion so far. I would need to keep my eyes peeled. He had to be hiding somewhere.

  I’d come here to do something different. Something out of my midwestern comfort zone. Something far from the long hours of caring for gunshot victim after stabbing victim. I wanted to fall in love and do something romantic and crazy for once. Unfortunately for me, the first man my age I met was Thomas.