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THIRTY-SEVEN

NATALIE

It’s almost ten o’clock, an hour since the incident, and my hands are still shaking as I pick up the empty plates and glasses on the back terrace and bring them to the kitchen. Rosalie looks like Grumpy Cat, not a word about what happened in the library.

I feel nervous tremors all over my body. My stress level is higher than it was during my shift on New Year’s night at a Presidential Club’s bar two years ago. Am I being watched? I have no doubt anymore. Just in case, I keep my phone on me. If they want to fire me for it, I don’t care.

Most guests left. A few are still chatting, sipping their colorful fizzy drinks. Surprisingly, no one is drunk. A number of people are on their laptops, and someone is doing a full-on computer presentation in one corner of the terrace. While these people are partying, a person got assaulted, and they don’t have a clue.

Julien walks out onto the terrace and beckons me with two fingers.

“Where’s the girl?” I ask as I approach.

He motions to the door. “Come with me.”

“Julien?” I insist, not moving. “Where’s the girl?”

“I said, inside,” he snaps, making my stomach turn. Julien doesn’t snap. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t lose composure. Except tonight.

We walk down the hallway to the staff kitchen. It’s empty. No Rosalie. No catering staff.

“I thought you were supposed to keep an eye on everyone here,” I say bitterly and cross my arms over my chest.

A familiar voice out in the hall approaches, and Nick storms into the kitchen, followed by Rosalie.

“He was not supposed to drink tonight!” Nick shouts, whipping around to confront her as she lowers her head submissively, her eyes cast down. “How did he get ahold of booze? How?”

It’s the first time I’ve seen him angry. He stalls when he notices me, but his eyes right away shift to Julien. He steps up to him and grits out, “ Ex-plain. ”

Julien’s jaw tics. “I saw one of the caterers give him a drink. It looked like iced tea.”

I still like an iron rod. Julien just covered for me. Nick is the one who hired me, I’m sure he wouldn’t say anything to me. So then why did Julien lie?

“Iced tea?” Nick snarls. “Iced tea doesn’t get him deliriously drunk. Why didn’t you check?”

“Check what, Nick?” Julien asks, standing in front of him in his usual bodyguard pose. “What was I supposed to do? Come up in front of a hundred people to my boss, take the drink out of his hand, and sniff it?”

Nick ruffles his hair, rolling his neck in annoyance.

“The caterers weren’t warned about Mr. Rosenberg and alcohol,” Julien continues, blinking slowly. “We can’t exactly tell them, ‘Don’t serve booze to the guy who owns the house, the billion-dollar company, and everyone else around.’ And we can’t tell them he has a drinking problem. Not now. Not when his company is about to grow tenfold in value.”

Nick rubs his face with both hands, exhaling in frustration. “We are all supposed to make sure things go smoothly. Not like the last time. But here we are!” Nick looks at Julien again. “Did you send the girl home?”

“Yes.”

My eyes snap at Julien, who ignores me like I’m not here. Send her home ? That’s how Nick put it? Does he even know she was drugged?

Nick sighs loudly and leans on the counter with both hands, hanging his head. “When he wakes up tomorrow, I’m so fired. All of us are.”

Rosalie looks from under her eyebrows between Nick and Julien. “If I lose my job, I’m blaming you two.”

That makes Nick chuckle as he pushes off the counter and walks toward the door. His last words before he walks out are, “Let’s hope he doesn’t ruin our lives in revenge.”