All His Secrets (Manhattan Misters Book 1)

by Maya Hughes

  I popped out of the kitchen with an arm load of plates ready for my biggest table of the night when I saw a hulking man in a dark black suit standing in front of Esme, trying to talk to her. He had a short buzz cut and wore sunglasses on a rainy day like today. She scrunched herself up against the counter. She didn’t look happy to see him. Who the hell is this? Everything happened so quickly. One minute he tried to grab her and the next, I dumped the plates down on the table nearest me and launched myself across the floor in between the two.

  I planted myself in front of her and pushed him back with both hands as hard as I could.

  “Hey, don’t you fucking touch her.” I got right in his face. He didn’t even flinch as his shaded gaze snapped to me. “Do you hear me? Back off,” I said, pushing him back with both hands. He didn’t shift an inch as my hands met his solid mass. My pulse pounded and my hands were sweaty. Who is this guy? Why was he talking to Esme? Is she in danger? More and more questions flew through my head as I started up at the unflinching man with the earpiece. Esme slid her hand into mine. I turned to give her a reassuring smile when the crashing bang of the front door being flung open made me jump and put my arm around Esme. What the hell is going on? I tried to peer around the asshole, since he towered over me.

  “There you are,” came a voice smoother than silk, even with the frantic anxiety that only losing a kid can create in a parent. He rushed in flanked by another huge guy in a dark suit. This one had dark brown hair that was longer on top. I named him Hulk #2. Esme leaned to the side and a light brown-haired man rushed around me and the other guy. His expensive cologne wafted by and filled the air with the scent of something other than pancakes, burgers, and coffee. He smelled better than any man I’d ever known. Hulk #1 escorted Hulk #2 out of the diner and by escorted, I mean practically thrown out the front door.

  Before I even knew what happened, Mr. Cologne had his arms wrapped around Esme and her little arms were wrapped up in his.

  “Are you okay?” the man said, crouching down and squeezing her in a hug. “Don’t do that to me, sweetie.”

  As he turned with her in his arms, it suddenly made complete sense why he smelled the way he did. I was face-to-face with Rhys Thayer, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world. Also, one of the most generous, from what I’d read, but he didn’t feel generous right then.

  He kissed the top of Esme’s head, but he kept his gaze on me and suddenly I was under his scrutiny. My fingers tingled and I wanted to take a step back, but I was frozen. He pinned me with his stare, eyes burning into mine, and my skin prickled. He didn’t seem like the good-natured philanthropist I’d seen numerous news features about. His eyes were on me with laser-focus and I finally bucked up the courage to take that step back. Like a transformation, his mask fell for a second with Esme wrapped in his arms. He seared my skin as he gave me the once-over, glaring at me like he could destroy me at any moment, and he could.

  3

  Rhys

  Smiles and handshakes. That seemed like all my life was at this point. My hard work at continuing my parents’ legacy had paid off to the detriment of my personal life, except for Esme. She changed my life in a way I hadn’t thought possible. When the doctors laid her tiny squirmy bundle in my arms, it made everything in my life sharper, clearer as far as what I needed to do to keep her safe. I’d been given a fortune bigger than most people could imagine and at the age of sixteen I controlled sums of money that could transform lives. Which meant I controlled lives, lives of adults, and that kind of power in the hands of any kid was dangerous. It split my personality in some ways. In front of the crowds and camera I was one way, but behind closed doors it was another story. A side of me I couldn’t let out often, not in the brightness of day. It was a side of me that scared more than one woman away. It cemented my decision to keep those encounters as close to professional, setting boundaries for them and for me. If I allowed myself to truly unleash, I don’t know if there was a woman out there who could handle me.

  “Sir, we have a situation,” Derek, my head of security, said, pulling me aside from the handshake carousel I was continuously on. Things moved in slow motion as I raced out of the boardroom, knocking a few suits out of the way.

  Fear does not begin to describe the feeling that coursed through me as me and my security team turned the city upside down looking for Esme. She knew better than the run off. I’d been at the bank, setting up a trust for a foundation I’d donated to, and brought her along. We were going to a show after and it would make things easier. Plus, I hated leaving her on her own for so long. The day Esme was born was one of the happiest of my life. I still remember that glowing ball of happiness that welled up inside me as I held her in my arms for the first time.

  The joy of cradling her agains my chest only made the gut punch two years later that much harder to bear. But today would rank right up there as one of the worst days of my life. She wasn’t known for wandering off and being able to shake her security. But how many six-year-olds had their own security detail? I couldn’t take chances with her. I wouldn’t. Her disappearing act had me calling in every person I knew, monitoring every radio frequency, and I was even working on getting someone on cell signals when security spotted her in the window of a diner. I’d never run so fast in my life. My feet pounded against the pavement, jarring shocks running through my body as I slid into the diner.

  I didn’t even stop to evaluate the scene. Derek stood in front of a woman, who stood in front of Esme and she was my concern. I scooped her up in my arms and breathed her in. She smelled like chocolate and coffee. She looked up at me with big wide eyes and a huge smile. I smiled even though jumped back and forth between wanting to yell at her never to do that again and never letting her out of my sight, now that she was safe.

  “Don’t ever do that to me again,” I said forcefully. She nodded and whispered a ‘sorry, Daddy’ with her arms wrapped around my neck. My heart rate finally returning to normal, I turned to the woman who was between Derek and Esme. A waitress. A waitress who worked here in the diner from the looks of the other people standing around. Had Esme wandered into the diner? The waitress had a big scrape on her knee and her stockings were ripped. Her chocolatey eyes went through a few different stages of emotion, anger, surprise then recognition. Ah yes, she knew who I was. And what I wanted to know now was what the hell she’d done with my daughter. And now a new emotion sprung up, fear. Good, I wanted to ensure her cooperation in whatever came next.

  “Rhys Thayer,” I said, extending my hand to hers. She wiped her palm on her dingy pink skirt.

  “Mel. Melanie Bright,” she said, shaking my hand. Her small hand felt like spun glass in my hand, although her demeanor screamed tough chick. She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt.

  “How did you end up with my daughter, Ms. Bright?” Had she coerced her out of the bank? Found her wandering? My mind cycled through all the horrible scenarios I’d created in my mind in the two hours Esme had been missing. Especially since Esme wouldn’t have cried out for help.

  “I was getting money out of the ATM and I think Esme saw I was hurt and wanted to help.” She kept talking, but nothing registered in my mind after she said her name.

  “So, she wandered away to help you? Someone she’s never met?”

  “I don’t lie,” she said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t know where she came from. She just pushed through the door and she was there.”

  “And you just walked away with her?” I growled.

  “No,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “I didn’t just walk away from her. I asked her where her parents were. And she said it was just her dad,” she continued, but my brain froze at that statement. Esme said it was just her dad. Esme didn’t talk to anyone but me. The waitress kept talking. I must have misheard her. “…stood around waiting for someone who looked like they lost her and then asked her which direction she came from. She pointed this way, so I figured we might run into her dad on the way back. Esme and I
came back to the diner. I got her a cup of her favorite drink, hot chocolate, and she’s been hanging out with me, right, Esme?”

  “How did you know hot chocolate was her favorite?” I know there’s a lot of information out there about me and Esme, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t something that had ever come up. How did she know that? Who is she? Has she found a way to lure Esme away? I raced through several ways to protect my daughter from whatever this threat might be and stepped in front of Esme.

  Melanie stopped short with whatever she said and tilted her head to the side. She eyed me quizzically. “She told me,” she said, looking at me like I was the biggest moron she’d ever spoken to. Esme spoke to her? That sentence seemed so strange in my own head that I had to roll over it a few times. It came out stilted as I said it out loud.

  “Esme spoke to you?”

  “Yes, she gave me this handkerchief for the cut on my knee,” she said, producing one of mine from her pocket and gesturing to her leg. “And said it was for my owie and then she told me her name.”

  I glanced from Esme, whose tiny fingers gripped onto three of mine, and back to Melanie. I had to reassess my initial assessment of her. Her mussed mop of light brown hair flew in different directions as she hustled from table to table.

  Her eyes were what struck me first, bright and friendly, although they were quite wary right now. She came up to my shoulder, which meant she was taller than average for a woman since I was over six feet. Athletic, with some curves. Cute even, spunky probably. Someone who would turn heads when she walked into a room, but not even notice. But the thing that intrigued me most was that she’d gotten my daughter to speak, who only ever spoke to me over the past three years.

  “She hasn’t spoken to anyone other than me in over three years.”

  Another head tilt. She glanced from me to Esme.

  “She hasn’t?” she said, squinting like she was trying to piece together the same puzzle I was. Why had Esme decided to speak to her?

  "No, she hasn't," I said, trying to figure her out.

  "Wow, in that case," she said, crouching down. "I am really glad you decided to speak to me when you got lost, Esme." She smiled and Esme lit up. I saw it in her eyes. The smile she gave Melanie reached all the way there. I hadn't seen one of those in a long time.

  "Thank you for the hot chocolate, Mel," Esme whispered, low enough that only the two of us could make it out. She tentatively stepped out from behind me and flung herself at Melanie, wrapping her arms around her waist. Derek's phone clattered to the ground beside me. I don't think he'd ever heard her speak before. Derek glanced over at me and I nodded. I wanted to know everything there was to know about Melanie Bright and I wanted it yesterday. I needed to figure out why she seemed to be the key so many others had been unable to unlock.

  "Thank you for looking after my daughter. Someone will be in touch with you shortly," I said, turning to head out with Esme's hand firmly in mine. We'd have to have a talk about running off with strangers.

  "In touch about what?" she said, her hand shooting out to my arm. I glanced down at her hand. Her warmth seeped through my suit jacket even on this cold day. She quickly pulled it back. I bit back my reflex to put it back. I didn’t know who the hell this woman was, but I would find out.

  "There are some documents you'll need to sign." This could be a big problem for me. For Esme. Everything about our lives needed to be picture-perfect and having her run away and get lost would not play well to anyone.

  A host of NDAs and other documents would be on her way to ensure our lives weren't disrupted by someone who might want to do us harm. The rumors swirled about those NDAs. Talk of sex dungeons, whips and chains. It was better they thought that was what I was hiding rather than finding out the truth.

  We walked out of the diner and into a waiting town car. After a long talk with Esme about never doing anything like that ever again, I put her to bed and sat up in my study. Glass of scotch in my hand, I nursed it and thought back to the waitress from the no name diner. Melanie. I rolled her name over in my mind. Derek dropped off a folder with her whole life story in it a little while ago. Grew up in the Midwest, a few run-ins with the police over things like shoplifting when she was younger. A screwed-up childhood that included some time in the foster care system. Her home life was about as far away from mine as you could get, but growing up like I had, maybe we had more in common than I thought. The rest of the file contained a few red flags, but nothing major. Moved to NYC a few years ago, bounced around from job to job. No college, no career, no real prospects. So why had Esme decided to open up to her?

  My life as the poor little rich boy meant my friends were few and family nonexistent. My parents hadn’t known they would die in their forties, but their wishes for the money they left me were clear. So clear, I wondered if they’d ever seen me as more than an extension of their legacy. I didn’t want that for Esme. She’d know I loved her, cared about her as my daughter, not as another vehicle for my life’s mission. Which meant she’d always be my little girl, but she’d have to leave like everyone else in my life left. The pain that drove through me washed away, seeing her grow and flourish. Which was why I needed to figure out Melanie Bright. Is she the key to fixing whatever broke inside my little girl? Would she be the key to helping her with troubles on the horizon?

  Esme was so smart, did well in school, but wouldn’t speak to anyone else. I’d taken her to every specialist I could think of, every psychologist, psychiatrist. Everyone said it was okay for her to have experienced trauma related to her mother’s death. That she’d come out of it when she was ready, but I knew that wasn’t true.

  I knew she’d seen things no child should ever see. My hand and fingers were tingling, throbbing as the anger warred with shame. I did everything I could, short of committing my wife to get her better, to keep her safe, but money combined with access meant the temptations Beth faced were nearly insurmountable. My biggest regret was that she’d managed to expose Esme to any of it. She lulled me into a false sense of security, I thought it was all behind her. I let her take Esme that day. Mother-daughter bonding she’d said. I’d been too damn stupid to see her slips. I thought I had it all under control. I’d been wrong. I’d been so fucking wrong and now my little girl paid the price.

  The prickling heat whenever I thought of that day reached a boiling point. I shattered the glass in my fist, my eyes snapping to the man next to me. He must have seen the real me then because he took a step back. Heads in the room turned as they stared at the broken glass in my hand and tumbling to the floor. I felt better for a second. The tight reigns had come off for just a little bit. But then I slammed on the brakes. I must maintain this image, not only to protect me, but to protect my daughter. There were so many ways this could go wrong. I worried that it wasn’t a phase and she wouldn’t grow into that woman I was envisioning leading a happy and healthy life. I was determined, though. And that day would come.

  One day she’d grow up. And I’d be all alone again. All alone with the regrets of my life. All alone with money that wasn’t mine to spend, only mine to give away and I’d have no one to share my life with. But she deserved to have a real shot at a life, not the fishbowl existence I was born into.

  I’d tried to make things work with a couple women after my wife. I thought maybe a mother figure would help her recover, but once they knew the strings attached to the money, my life didn’t seem so glamorous anymore. And once I saw how many people walked away after they knew, I wasn’t going to expose Esme to anyone else who wasn’t going to stick around, so I stopped talking and started using. Using them like they intended to use me.

  Trust isn’t something that comes easily to someone in my position. Someone with my background. Widower and single father. A man who required far too much from a woman to find it all with one. Everyone on the outside saw me as the prince of my own tale, but they didn’t know me. They didn’t know what my life had been like and they didn’t know the beast that raged inside.<
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  And after six nannies, from the best recommendations, over the past three years, they were never the right fit. Never able to connect with my daughter like a waitress off the street had. I sent a text to my assistant. There would be some changes happening tomorrow. I checked on Esme again before slipping into the gym. The specialized lap pool called to me. I stripped down and dove in. The warm water soothed me as I threw myself into the laps. Stroke after stroke, the water rushed over me as I kick flipped turn after turn. Passing out at my desk in the wee hours or swimming laps until my legs were like leaden weights, threatening to pull me under, were the only ways I could sleep most nights. The only way to pass out in my bed before my head hit the pillows. It also kept the clawing, bone-chilling nightmares at bay.

  4

  Mel

  The key stuck in the lock to Jeanine’s third story walk-up apartment like it did every day. The peeling paint on the door was probably white as one point, but now it was an off white that only came with decades of cigarette smoke and other colorful smells seeping into every nook and cranny. I couldn’t really complain since it wasn’t even technically my place. I had to ram my shoulder into the door before it finally popped free and I burst into the living room. I guess you couldn’t call it a living room, as it was more like a closet.

  There was a mishmash of furniture from off the street, online sales, and scrounging any place else that meant free or damn near close. The window overlooked a striking and minimalist brick wall, which meant the entire place was almost always dark. But again, I was just happy for a roof over my head. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

  Jeanine came out of the bathroom, rubbing her hair with a towel.