Page 32

THIRTY-ONE

NATALIE

This is the oddest party I’ve been to.

It’s in full swing. The young entrepreneurs drink more than anyone, but I’ve never served so many energy drinks, healthy juices, and non-alcoholic sparkling concoctions.

“They didn’t come here to party,” Rosalie explains with an important face when I bring it up. “They are networking.”

“Yeah, okay. That blondie who was talking to Rosenberg was definitely not networking. Unless spreading her legs ‘somewhere private’ as per our boss is considered networking.”

Rosalie’s expression changes. “Keep doing what you are doing, Natalie.” She shoves another tray of drinks into my hands and tries to usher me out.

“Should I go check on that girl? She’s in the library.”

“Natalie?” Rosalie warns me.

“Rosalie?” I cock my head at her.

She gives me a backward nod. “Go do your job. What the boss does in private is none of your business.”

Shoving my irritation down, I walk out and turn the other way, toward the library, when her sharp voice stops me. “Natalie!”

I turn to see Rosalie in the doorway, glaring at me. She jerks her head in the opposite direction.

Ugh.

I turn on my heel and hurry out onto the terrace.

And here’s the sight to behold!

Rosenberg stands with his arms spread like a king, a large crowd gathered around him.

“To I! X! Research!” he roars, literally roars, face lifted to the sky as the crowd around him cheers enthusiastically.

“To the power of the digital world!” he roars again, the applause and whistling escalating.

“To the crypto empire!”

The crowd goes wild.

“Cheers!” he roars again, downing the liquid from a champagne flute and pumping the air above him with his fist as the crowd starts chanting, “I! X! I! X! I! X!”

With a drunk grin, Rosenberg stumbles toward the terrace doors.

He’s wasted. Shocker. I’ve seen this before, the rapid slide into unruly drunkenness, and that’s what Rosenberg is. Either he can’t hold his liquor, or it kicks in a bipolar effect on his personality. I get why there’s a no-drinking rule at the house, because as Rosenberg walks by me, there’s a dangerous burn in his glassy eyes.

My concern is for the blondie in the library.

I hustle between the guests, trying to get rid of the drinks on my tray and collect the empty ones. My nerves are on edge, the blondie on my mind.

It takes me an annoyingly long time, and by the time I walk back into the mansion, something has changed inside.

The house is empty of guests. A tall figure blocks the hallway that goes from the living room toward the east wing—it’s Dave, the security guard.

My stomach turns with unease.

I notice another figure behind him, by the door to the library. It’s Nick. He stands motionless. His head is lowered, eyes on the floor—he’s eavesdropping!

Oh, wow. This house works like a well-oiled machine. I wonder if the entire staff is committed to saving Rosenberg’s reputation. Or…

An awful thought makes my blood go cold—what if I set up Rosenberg for another crime? What if something horrible is about to happen to the blondie?

I don’t want her to get in trouble, even if that’s what she’s asking for. Maybe she’ll have a good time. Maybe she’ll become Rosenberg’s new secretary or wife. Wouldn’t that be a jackpot for her?

The word “jackpot” makes me think of Cara. She thought Rosenberg would be just that.

Crap, crap, crap , my mind spins on repeat.

I step into the doorway that leads to the staff kitchen and peek from behind it down the hallway, narrowing my eyes on Nick in the distance, who opens the door to the library and walks in, shutting the door behind him.

I have to know what’s happening, so I step out and march down the hall, across the living room, and walk up to Dave, who immediately blocks my way.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the gate?” I ask him politely.

“Not right now. Keep doing what you are doing.” He motions for me to go away.

“Is everything okay?” I insist, glancing between him and the library door.

He takes a threatening step toward me. “I said, move it.”

I hear loud voices and arguing coming from the library, then Rosenberg’s shout, “Piss oooooff, you asshole!”

“What’s happening?” I repeat.

Dave ducks his head at me, glaring. “Mind your own business. Get back to work.”

Suddenly, he raises his hand to his earpiece and cocks his head, then presses the push-to-talk button on his lapel.

“Understood,” he says, then walks over to the wall and kills the lights in the hallway.

“I said, go,” he mouths to me.

That very moment, Nick’s head pops out of the library. “Julien! I need Julien! Right now!” he shouts.

Dave presses the push-to-talk button again. “Julien. Library. Urgent. It’s Rosenberg.”

That’s when I hear a female scream from the library, followed by something breaking. It’s the next sound that makes my heart still—a gunshot.