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FORTY-SIX

NATALIE

“Where are you going?” Rosalie appears out of nowhere, her hands on her hips as she watches me grab my purse out of the locker.

“Running an errand for Mr. Rosenberg.”

“What errand?” she demands as I walk past her.

“He asked me confidentially.”

“Did you clear it with Julien?”

I pause by the door before exiting and turn to meet her glare. “I don’t have to. My boss is Mr. Rosenberg. And I don’t want to lose my job for disobeying him. We all want to get paid, right?”

She should know. Everyone here is paranoid about their jobs.

Just like that, I walk out and run right into Julien, who is standing with his hands in his pockets, his face lifted to the sky like he’s watching the clouds.

He’s not all right. His head turns slowly in my direction, and the expression on his face takes me aback. At this moment, Julien forgets to rearrange his expression into a cold mask and looks as if he is in pain.

I take several steps toward him. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer, only locks eyes with me for the longest time, which unnerves me. He stares at me like this is the last time he’ll see me and he’s trying to engrave my face in his memory.

His gaze is sad. His features have acquired a handsome softness. On a face that usually looks sharp, it’s unusual. I’d give the hundred bucks that I have in my pocket to know what he’s thinking.

“Why did you cover for me yesterday?” I ask. “When you said a caterer gave Rosenberg a drink? You lied.”

He doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t.

Some people are easy to read. Others are good at masking their emotions. Often, it’s because of past trauma, and only booze, drugs, or extreme situations make them open up. Julien is reserved, probably an introvert, but he possesses a peculiar magnetism that’s even more intriguing when he reveals so little about himself. An unusual feeling surges through me, a momentary attraction. In different circumstances, I would’ve flirted with him. In a different place and time, I would’ve probably made it my mission to get under his skin until all he could think about was me.

These are untimely thoughts. I’ve known the guy for three days, most of which he’s been an ass to me.

“Are you not going to answer?” I ask.

“You shouldn’t fraternize at work,” he finally says—a rule, of all things.

“I don’t.”

“That’s not what it looked like yesterday.”

He means Nick? “I was off my shift. I was going home. That’s outside work.”

“On the premises.”

“Jesus, Julien. Really? What? Are you jealous or something?”

A split second of surprise flashes across his face.

I smile. “I’m joking. Obviously.”

He blinks away, shaking his head. “Why are you so stubborn?” he mutters.

“Do you have siblings?” I ask in return.

He ignores my question again.

“I have two,” I say. Not quite true, but I always considered Lindsey and Cara my sisters. “One passed away not long ago. The other one is in critical condition in a hospital. I need money.”

That’s a simple way to put it, but it will do.

“There are other jobs,” Julien replies.

“This is quick money. Maybe I want to splurge and travel to Greece. Or buy a new iPhone. Or invest in crypto.” I wiggle my brows.

His jaw tightens—bad joke, I get it. That’s probably what Darla was trying to do, schmoozing Rosenberg.

The silence that follows grows even more uncomfortable.

“You want anything from the store?” I ask.

“Are you getting him alcohol?”

The comment startles me. So, it’s not the first time Rosenberg has sent someone to secretly get booze, and Julien knows about it.

“Do you need anything?” I repeat, ignoring his question.

He smirks and lowers his eyes. “He could stay drunk in his room for weeks, for all I care.”

And that— that —doesn’t make sense. That’s the first rule of the house—no booze. Everyone is concerned about Rosenberg behaving himself because tomorrow is a big day for IxResearch. Yet Julien says that ? Nothing makes sense today.

I’m about to walk off when Julien calls my name. It sounds gentle, almost caring. “Be careful, okay?”

There’s no warning in his voice this time, just concern, and that somehow doesn’t make sense either.

Slowly, I bring my fingers to the side of my forehead in a military salute. “Yes, boss,” I say, smiling.

Julien shakes his head, turning away, hiding it, but I already caught a smile in his eyes.

I walk to my car, about to get in, when I see someone by the garden shed staring at me. It’s Walter, the gardener. He’s openly glaring. I have a feeling that he has been watching me since I’ve been outside with Julien. He and Dave, the security guy, should have a glaring competition.

I wave to Walter, and he turns and stomps away. I haven’t really spoken to him at all. I don’t think he likes me. I rarely see him inside the house. He’s always running errands or doing outdoor stuff. But whenever I see him, his eyes are trained on me like I’m the enemy of the state.

Why do I get all those glares at The Splendors? This place is giving me the creeps, but I really have to figure out Rosenberg.

Booze? Your wish is my command.

Except I have a little surprise for Rosenberg. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I’m definitely not going to be a pawn. I need him to talk, not fight. I need him to be a teddy bear, not a predator. Today, he won’t try anything funny, or at least, he won’t be able to. Because I’m going to use his own weapon.

When I get in my car, I open the glove compartment and take out a KitKat. Except when I peel back the wrapper, it reveals a thin rectangular lid. It’s one of those diversion “secret stash” products. Inside it—I hope Cara hasn’t used it for anything crazy—is a little baggie with pills, Ambien. Cara occasionally takes them at parties to mellow out and chill. Me, I used half of one for sleep, and it knocked me out for twelve hours.

Right now, I need two. When I’m at the store parking lot, away from any possible cameras, I’ll grind them into powder and wrap them in a discarded chocolate wrapper I find lying around. When Rosenberg drinks his Jack, he’ll drink this too, and then I’ll have my way with him.