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SEVENTEEN

NATALIE

“Thank you for letting me meet the boss,” I say to Nick as we stand outside the staff entrance during a lunch break.

“No problem,” he says. His tie is gone, the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, and he slowly twirls a set of keys between his fingers. “He usually doesn’t bother talking to the staff. He must’ve noticed you, though. I don’t blame him.”

I like compliments. Except when they come from a possible serial predator like Rosenberg.

“I wish Julien were as friendly as you,” I say.

Nick instantly tenses. “Julien is very protective of his workspace. The boss likes him.”

“Do you ?”

He chuckles. “He’s all right. Why?”

“No, just… He doesn’t like me much. No one does around here.”

“Sure they do!” Nick clicks his tongue in protest. “They are just trying to get a sense of what you’re like. It’s normal. You are smart. And nice. What’s not to like?”

I chuckle. “Thanks.”

His gaze on me softens. “Thank you for being here. It’s refreshing.”

“Refreshing?”

“Well, everyone is pretty uptight here. It’s nice to see a new face. A beautiful one, too.”

I think I blush. Nick casts his eyes down, a smile lingering on his lips. He’s quite irresistible.

“It can get”—he pauses for a moment—“stressful here, you know.” He glances up at me. “Boss can be demanding. Sometimes, pretty intense. Occasionally, he… I’m just glad to see a friendly face here, though I don’t get to very often.”

He’s cute. The younger version of him would have been labeled a “golden boy.” I’m sure women are all over him. But I have a feeling he has little to no time for a personal life.

“Listen,” he says, concerned, “if anyone mistreats you, let me know, and I’ll pass the word to the boss. Honestly, you are doing Julien and his team a favor by helping.”

“It’s all right.”

Nick nods repeatedly. “This job is easier than saving lives, you know.”

I frown, then realize he’s making a joke about the day we met and instantly burst into laughter. “Right.”

His boyish grin, along with the cute tilt of his head, instantly cheers me up. I wish we could hang out more. If everyone in this house were like him, this would’ve been an ideal job. Besides scrubbing bathrooms, of course.

“Wanna get together tonight?” he asks, his gaze on me somewhat hesitant.

Ah, there it is. I knew this was coming. Nick is a good catch. Charming, kind, considerate. I could probably get some background on Rosenberg from Nick if I played my cards right. No fraternizing is a rule at any workplace. But I’m sure, if I wanted to, I could hook up with Nick, and he’d make this slide past the rules and the boss. Do I need this right now?

The detective’s warning sounds more sinister now. Maybe I should reconsider my dating rules. What happened to Cara makes me want to run a background check on everyone.

Nick’s gaze on me is hopeful—he knows I’m evaluating him, and he wants to hear a yes.

For a second, I consider a date with him. If Nick lives in the city, it might be easier to bail out if the date goes wrong. I go out, I don’t like it, I split. I’ll just have to come up with a valid excuse so there’s no tension at work.

“Where do you live?” I ask, mulling over the options.

Nick tilts his head at some spot vaguely behind him. “Right there.”

I don’t get it. “Right there where?”

He points to the small structure behind the mansion. “The guest house.”

“Really? There ?”

“Yeah.” He looks down and kicks the gravel with the tip of his fancy shoe. “The boss requested that I move closer to him. He’s needy.” Nick chuckles. “He also has a tendency to request me at odd times, in the middle of the night, and whatnot.”

“Do you even have days off?”

Nick shrugs. “Not really.”

“Wow, that’s tough.”

“That’s life. I get paid well, and I need money. Just like you.”

“Things we do for money, huh?” I joke, wondering if I ever imagined, while working three jobs and putting myself through college, that I’d be cleaning toilets in a mansion at the age of twenty-seven.

“Yeah, so, I can’t invite you in,” Nick says apologetically, and I almost feel bad for him. “My place is not fancy, to say the least. Plus, it’s on the premises. Believe it or not, the boss keeps a close eye on things. I wouldn’t want…”

Nick pauses as if trying to choose the right words, then scratches his eyebrow with his forefinger, still twirling the keys in his other hand. There’s something awkward about it, as if he’s nervous or trying not to reveal too much.

“It’s… Yeah, I like to take my personal life outside this place,” he says. “To get away from here as much as possible, you know?”

He starts twirling the keys between his fingers faster. He looks almost slightly embarrassed, or uneasy, or… scared? I can’t figure it out. But he avoids meeting my eyes, and there’s no trace of humor on his face.

Rosenberg’s right-hand man doesn’t like being at The Splendors? This is another red flag.

“So what do you say?” Nick’s hopeful smile is suddenly back.

I feel like Nick is desperately trying to get away from this place, if only for an evening. Any other time, I’d jump at the opportunity.

But that’s a no. I don’t know what his schedule is like, but I’m doing a thirteen-hour workday and thirteen more hours tomorrow. There’s a high possibility of me cleaning up after the party on Sunday. That’s aside from driving to the hospital every morning to see Cara. The last thing I can think about is a romantic evening. I definitely shouldn’t get involved with anyone around here.

A keychain among the other keys in Nick’s hand catches my attention—it’s a tiny souvenir Empire State Building with a spire.

I nod toward it, trying to divert the topic. “Sentimental?”

Nick chuckles, giving it a glance. “I love New York City.”

“Where are you originally from?”

“ Not the city,” he says quietly.

He must be a small-town guy who was lucky to score an important job. I sort of see why he’s trying so hard to be nice to everyone. Both Cara and I are from a small town. Me—from a dysfunctional family. Cara—from an abusive one. Despite having lived in the big city for nine years and having graduated from college, we still struggle to make a decent income and feel like outsiders on a daily basis.

“Yeah, the city is great,” I say, then turn to the house, giving it a backward nod. “Especially when you have this kind of money.”

“Everyone’s dream, isn’t it?”

“Wouldn’t you want to have a place like this to yourself?”

Nick’s smile takes on a disappointed tilt. “Wouldn’t you ?”

“Something is off about this place,” I say, baiting him.

Judging by how Nick’s expression falls, my words struck a chord. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just… Rules. Cameras.”

He clears his throat. “Listen, our boss is an important man. He will be a billionaire soon. We all get paid very well, so we play by the rules and wag our tails because we need these jobs.”

There’s something suspicious about the work energy in this place. Everyone seems a bit too serious, and when Rosenberg is around, everyone steels their spines like they are afraid of him.

“Do you know what happened to Darla?” I ask.

And here it is again—Nick’s expression freezes, the keys silent in his hand.

“She… she got tied up with the boss,” he replies, tonguing his cheek.

“Tied up how?”

Nick looks away, reluctant to talk. The secrecy surrounding Darla is becoming annoying.

The staff door squeaks open, and Rosalie’s head pokes out. “Need you here,” she says, motioning for me to come inside. I guess my break is over.

I exchange knowing glances with Nick.

“Mr. Warden must be requesting me,” I joke. “Let’s talk later? Maybe hang out?” I say to give him hope and reluctantly get back inside the house.

Rosalie doesn’t look at me as I step into the kitchen. I can tell she’s annoyed. She doesn’t hide her emotions well.

“You should try harder to be more professional,” Rosalie says.

I want to snort but hold it back not to anger her. “And I’m not?”

“Our boss doesn’t like when the staff is fraternizing.”

“Isn’t Nick his favorite?”

“Yeah, well, to a point.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anything suspicious, and you will be in trouble.”

Oh, gee, here comes that warning again. “Having a friendly talk with a staff member is suspicious?”

“Gossips are. Especially anything that has to do with the boss.”

“Is that what happened to Darla?” I bait her.

Rosalie flinches, then stares me dead in the eyes. “She talked too much. Just like you.”