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TWENTY-ONE

NATALIE

Whoever left the note has been very quick to track me. Technically, with a little more digging, they could’ve gotten my number too. I check the missed calls on my phone, but none of them are from unknown numbers.

So I dial the one on the napkin.

After one ring, I hear a low male voice. “Hello?”

“Hello?” I reply, my heart pounding like a drum.

“Who is this?” The voice sounds harsher this time.

“I got your note with the phone number on it.”

“Natalie?”

A shiver runs through me at the sound of my name from a stranger.

“Who is this? And what do you want?” I ask sharply.

“Where are you calling from?”

“My phone.”

“God dammit! Seriously?”

“What’s the?—”

“They might be listening.”

“Who?”

“Your boss, that’s who,” the man snaps. “Or someone who works for him.”

I swallow hard. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Did anyone touch your phone?”

Wait, what? I don’t know why I’m having this conversation with a stranger, but he keeps asking questions.

“At The Splendors,” the man says angrily, “did anyone touch it?”

“What do you mean, touch ? What is this about?”

“I mean what I mean. Did you ever leave your phone unattended?”

“It’s in the locker when I’m at work.”

“God dammit!” There’s a loud rustle on the other end of the line. “I need you to call me back from someone else’s phone. Right now. It’s in your best interest.”

Before I have a chance to ask him more questions, the line goes dead, and I stare at my phone like it’s a ticking bomb. Slowly, I turn it in my hand and inspect the phone case to see if it might’ve been tampered with. How would I know if there was a bug in it? I don’t have a password lock on my phone, so technically, anyone could’ve gotten into it when it was in the locker at the mansion.

Now I’m paranoid. I’ve only worked at that place for two days, and already someone is stalking me.

But this is exactly what I was looking for. This stalker—hopefully not a psycho—might have something on Rosenberg. At least there is someone else besides me who thinks that Rosenberg has secrets the police would love to find out about.

I knock on my neighbor’s door. Lilly is a nurse. I don’t know her too well, and people have stopped knocking on neighbors’ doors to borrow sugar or a screwdriver. These days, most people are suspicious about any sort of request from strangers, but one thing everyone can relate to is technology.

Lilly’s wary face appears in the open door. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, girl. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you. My phone started updating and then got stuck, and I need to make a quick phone call to my employer.” I scrunch up my nose. “Can I borrow your phone for a sec? It’s a quick one.”

“Sure!” She laughs.

See? I told you. There’s a mutual understanding that we can’t function without technology these days.

I fake a friendly laugh in response. “This is one of those scenarios where I wish we still had landlines in apartments like our parents did.”

“No kidding.” Lilly unlocks her phone and passes it to me.

“I’ll be quick!” I wait for her to step into the other room, then I dial the number from the note.

“Yes?” the stranger rasps on the other end.

“It’s me again. Calling from my neighbor’s. Better?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t catch my sarcasm. “So, you are the new girl at The Splendors. I guess you know what you’re doing.”

I silently gasp at the words. He definitely watches the mansion since he knows I’m new there.

“Who are you?” I demand.

“We met briefly when security threw me out the other day.”

Aha! I was right. He’s the man I saw outside the gate, in the dark, just a day ago. He might be dangerous. But! There’s also a possibility that he has some dirt on Rosenberg.

“I only have a second,” I snap. “Tell me what this is about.”

“I know you think you are clever, but you won’t be able to pull it off yourself.”

“Pull off what?”

“Listen to me. We can take that asshole down together.”

I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I need another confirmation. “Who?”

“Rosenberg.”

Right, taking down a famous millionaire sounds like a piece of cake. But I’m curious. “You need to tell me more.”

“Yeah. I’m trying to get to him, but that seems impossible.”

“I only met him once.”

“Yeah, well, you work in his fortress. I need you to pass on some information.”

“Didn’t you say he’s dangerous?”

“If you are smart, you’ll do it in such a way that you won’t get caught. I have information that will land him in prison. But I can’t reach him. You are the girl on the inside, and I’ll pay you if you do what I tell you.”

Huh. This is interesting, but it also sounds like it might get me in more trouble than I need to. “You said he is dangerous, so why?—”

“Listen, this is not a phone conversation. We need to meet. Soon. Before you end up like everyone else.”

My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll get in touch again. Don’t call me from your phone. Use someone else’s or a burner.”

The line goes dead.