by Gina LaManna
“When I researched the company, I didn’t find your name. No photos of you, nothing. Why? If you’re in charge, why is it so difficult to find information on you?”
“I prefer to keep my movements under the radar. If I didn’t, I’d have never met you.”
“You didn’t fool Mr. Clark.”
“He knows exactly who I am and my intentions.”
“You want to buy the Clark Company?”
“No,” he said, pausing for a long moment. “No, Lola, I don’t want to buy the Clark Company, I want to demolish them. This isn’t a game, sweetheart, this is business. There’s only room for one at the top, and I intend for it to be Graham Industries. Don’t forget now, I offered you a chance to be a part of this, a part of everything that will bring the Clark Company to its knees where they belong, but you declined.”
“Of course I did. I’m not a traitor.”
“I’m safe to assume your decision hasn’t changed, then?” He folded his arms over his suit. “Because if you don’t join our side, you’ll go down with the rest of them.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Shame.” He ran his fingertips over the desktop. “I thought if he was distracted enough, he might slip.”
“Distracted by what? Missing blueprints?”
“Three little words,” Gary said. “Words I imagine he’s never said before. It’s love, isn’t it?”
I stood up. “Goodbye, Gary. Whatever you did with the blueprint—whatever role you played in its theft—I’ll find out. And I’m coming after it.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he said. “Because I’m sure your boyfriend won’t be trailing far behind.”
I stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind me that for a second, I feared it’d shatter, sending the entire office crashing to the rocky shore below. My blood boiled, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I’d be all that sad. Then I turned around, caught sight of Gary’s smirk, and decided I wanted the man to live.
Because when I caught him, I wanted him to be around to suffer the consequences.
I sprinted down the staircase, aiming toward the back entrance where the cleaning staff had initially congregated. As I reached the ground floor, my frustration—the red rage that’d been boiling inside—had dissipated to nothing.
I tried to pull it back, to find the frustration that’d consumed me minutes before, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get Gary’s words out of my head.
Those three little words, the same ones that had crossed Dane’s lips last night.
It couldn’t be love. Not yet, and not with him.
I climbed into my car, grateful for the challenge of maneuvering a stupid stick shift through winding roads that were a death trap on a good day. Because if my mind hadn’t been occupied by the clunking car, I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything except Dane Clark, and the way it felt when he’d kissed me.
“You made it,” Gerard said, taking the keys from my hands with a skeptical expression. “I had serious doubts. Any damage I should know about?”
“Nope.”
“You told me that you could drive a stick shift. I could hear you coming all the way from the main drive, gears grinding.”
“The car’s in one piece, isn’t it?”
He rested a loving hand on the hood. “Just barely.”
“Thanks for the wheels. I owe you one.”
“Yeah, a new transmission.”
Mrs. Dulcet greeted me at the door of the castle once I’d left Gerard to moan about the Z. “This is for you.”
I looked down at the slip of paper she’d shoved into my hands. A note from Luke. See you tonight, it said. And suddenly I wasn’t thinking of Dane anymore, I was thinking that I needed to slow down and focus on one man at a time.
“Thanks,” I said to Mrs. Dulcet. “You know what this is about, I assume?”
“He seems like a nice man,” she said, moving out of the way. Despite her polite tone, she didn’t sound convinced. “His last name is Anderson? I don’t know any Anderson’s around here. Have you met his family?”
“No, they live on the opposite coast,” I said. “Luke only moved here a few years ago.”
“Can I get you some tea?” Mrs. Dulcet asked. “Lunch will be ready in thirty minutes or so!”
“Sure, that’d be great.” I shrugged out of my sweater and took a seat at the dining room table. It’d be good to calm my nerves, think things through. I had a date tonight, a blueprint to find, and a boss that I didn’t know what to do with. When Mrs. Dulcet dropped the tea in front of me, I stopped her. “So, why are you so interested about Luke Anderson?”
“I’ve come to like you, and I just think you deserve to be with a nice man.”
“Luke isn’t nice?”
She tilted her head to the side. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you’re implying as much.”
“Let’s just say I hope he’s more thorough in his personal life than he is in his professional one.”
“What are you talking about?”
She blinked. “It’s taken him three times to fix that bathroom.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve never seen him here before.”
“The castle existed before your arrival, dear.”
“You’re saying Luke has been here before? Not once, but twice?” I sat back in my chair. “That’s strange. He never told me.”
“Maybe because he couldn’t successfully fix a pipe,” she said. “And he was embarrassed.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said. My fingers curled around the teacup and I took a sip. “How long ago was he here for the first time?”
“Three weeks,” she said. “Then he came back oh—I don’t know—a week and a half later?”
“Before or after the blueprints were stolen?”
She frowned. “Before, I suppose. Then he came back today to fix the same bathroom.”
“Tricky pipes?”
“I’m not sure why Mr. Clark insisted on using Luke’s services again. I suggested we hire a new company, but he seemed adamant that Luke see the job through.”
“Well, yes. You’d hate to be out the money you already spent.”
“I just want the pipes fixed; I don’t care what it costs. I’m sick of changing the bucket under the sink, and the water bill will be astronomical.”
My heartbeat raced, flashes of the broken pipe in my home coming back to me. Luke knew how to break a pipe, that was for sure.
“What’s on your mind, dear?” Mrs. Dulcet clasped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my goodness. Here I am spouting things left and right about the man who you’re seeing tonight. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.”
“No, no, it’s okay.”
“You’re still going, aren’t you?” Her face scrunched up in dismay. “Please go. If Mr. Clark finds out I’ve been meddling, he won’t be happy.”
“I don’t know about that,” I muttered. “He didn’t want me to go on the date in the first place.”
“I’m going to leave before I run my mouth any more than I already have.” She leaned in, the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon swirling around the two of us as she gave me a quick peck on my cheek. “You have to understand, Lola, it’s been a while since Mr. Clark and I have had a new... someone who’s worked their way into our lives, our hearts. We just want you to be happy and safe and well-taken care of no matter who you decide to be with.”
“I know, Mrs. Dulcet. I know.”
“Dane won’t be joining us for lunch today, I’m afraid,” she said, watching me with a cautious gaze. “But I’m preparing something I think you’ll love.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can eat anything—a sandwich. Let me fix one.”
“Don’t be silly. Get over here.” Mrs. Dulcet opened her arms then, and I sunk into the hug, my eyes closing. Something about the moment reminded me of Dotty Pink—the all-consuming warmth, the care in her every movement. “It’ll be okay, Lola. I promise.”
“Do y
ou have everything you need?” Mrs. Dulcet asked, returning to the dining room four hours later. “If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”
I didn’t hear her at first. My nose was stuck an inch from my computer as I scrolled through article after article, digging up loose nuggets of information about Mr. Flanagan and Gary’s relationship.
“Just another minute,” I mumbled. “Thank you.”
I had barely moved from my seat all afternoon except for the occasional bathroom break. My more recent move was to slip into a cocktail dress of Mrs. Dulcet’s choosing, select a pair of high heels from the large selection in my bedroom, and polish off the necessary hair and makeup rituals.
I’d also peeked into the guest bathroom that Luke had been fixing earlier. According to my limited knowledge of pipes and sewage, it was working fine. The toilet flushed, no water dripped into the bucket—it appeared to be a successfully completed job.
Then I had resumed my searches about Graham Industries and the relationship with Mr. Flanagan Sr. Just before he’d gotten sick, Mr. Flanagan Sr. had donated a large sum of money—anonymously, as far as I could tell—toward Graham Industries. That’s when the sightings of Mr. Flanagan and Gary began—at the golf club, social galas, private industry meetings.
Mr. Flanagan’s name might not be on any paperwork associating him with the Graham Industries, but the connection was there. I was just missing the how. The blueprint, as well as the petty cash, had been stolen from the Eagle Office—a secure place for its safekeeping.
It had to be someone on the inside who helped them out for a hefty price tag. Didn’t it? How else could someone possibly break through the mountains of security without anyone noticing?
I’d briefly considered the fact that Luke had been involved, but a quick check around the castle had proved that to be impossible. Luke had been in Castlewood exactly three times this month. During each visit, he’d gone straight into the bathroom, tinkered with the pipes, and left, according to Mrs. Dulcet.
Which left me stumped. Had Luke made a mistake on the pipes? What about the blueprint? The lead designer, Nicolas, and Mr. Clark all had access to the room, although Joseph couldn’t access the files in the safe.
Maybe Nick had turned to Graham Industries to further supplement his income. Or, I supposed, Joseph could’ve found a way into the safe. No one would think it out of the ordinary for him to be in the Eagle Office, and he was certainly smart enough seeing as he had the high rank of lead designer for Mr. Clark.
I sighed and stretched in my seat.
“Give it a break, darling,” Mrs. Dulcet said. “You should be going, anyway. If you’re still going.”
“Of course I’m still going,” I said. My paranoia about Luke had faded almost as quickly as it’d arrived after Mrs. Dulcet had vouched for every minute of his whereabouts. “After all, I have to ask more about his family. I have a nosy friend asking about them, you know.”
“I’m just curious,” she said on a laugh. “Also, Mr. Clark wanted to see you before you left.”
“Where is he?”
She guided me through the hallways back to his study. The dark, ancient room tucked high, high in the castle’s top. “I’ll wait out here.”
I knocked on the door and, upon his invitation to enter, stuck one foot in front of the other and forced myself to face him. “Good evening, Mr. Clark.”
“Good evening, Lola. You look...” He paused, his eyes surprised, as if the canned greeting he had prepared wouldn’t quite suffice. Clearing his throat, he blinked and looked down at a stack of papers. “You had a productive day?”
“I look what?” I pressed.
“I hear you visited Graham Industries.”
“Yes. Did you know Nicolas’s father and Gary are friends? Close friends, from what I can tell.”
“Yes. Gary is the head of the company, and Nicolas’s father is an angel investor. Ironic in retrospect, isn’t it?” Mr. Clark’s blue eyes flashed. “Mr. Flanagan Sr. donates all of his money to our rival company a week before he’s diagnosed. Then he runs his son’s finances into the ground.”
“You don’t think it’s on purpose?”
“It’s a two-pronged approach to cripple the Clark Company, and it’s been going on for three years,” Dane said. “I just don’t have the proof. And I don’t have the damn blueprints!”
He stood up, leaned over the desk. His knuckles were pale as he pressed them into the wood.
“Dane, please—”
“If you knew Mr. Flanagan Sr., you’d know this plan isn’t beyond his scope,” he said, his voice dark. “I might not be wired for love and generosity, but him? He’s worse. He understands when he’s hurting people, and he does it anyway.”
I let Mr. Clark run out of steam. His breath came in short bursts, his chest rising and falling with the rush of adrenaline. I’d never seen him lose his composure in such a way, never witnessed those blue eyes streaked with pain, anger, with all of the emotions he’d been bottling inside for years.
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “We’ll catch him. We’ll find the blueprints and get Mr. Flanagan Sr. locked in jail. He practically admitted to taking them.”
“Of course he did, cocky bastard.”
“Dane, please—”
“You are stunning.” He interrupted me, his gaze torn from the stack of papers on his desk, alighting on me as his breathing slowed, his breaths softened. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
I couldn’t manage a response, so I stood still, hands clasped in front of me.
Mr. Clark straightened, alarm on his face. “Did I say the wrong thing?”
I still couldn’t speak, so I shook my head.
He came around from his side of the desk and brushed a curl over my shoulder, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, Lola. I never want to upset you.”
I swallowed. “I know.”
We held that way for a moment—close together and quiet, at peace in the darkness. Until Mrs. Dulcet sneezed from the hallway, and then followed up the sneeze with a volley of curse words.
“Carry on,” she cried desperately. “Darn my allergies to all heck!”
Dane and I shared a smile, a private smile, but the moment was broken.
“Should I wait up for you?” he asked, switching back to Mr. Clark mode. “I can save my dinner to eat with you, if you’d like.”
“I’ll be eating dinner there,” I said. “You don’t have to wait.”
“Of course.” He shook his head. “Well, then I won’t.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Semi’s coming with you.”
“Okay.”
“You didn’t argue this time.”
“Your house, your rules.” I smiled. “Good night, Dane.”
“Good night, Lola.”
Mrs. Dulcet apologized the entire way down the hall for sneezing. Finally, I explained that it was for the best, that I had a date with another person tonight, and it was best that things had shaken out like they had.
“Of course,” she said. “Before you go, can I show you one last thing?”
“I should really get going,” I said. “Luke will be at my place in thirty minutes.”
“Semi drives fast,” she said, and led me away from the front door.
“What is this?” I stepped onto plush red carpeting into a room in the dredges of the castle. “I’ve never even wandered over here on accident. I don’t think I could find this place with a map.”
“Maybe not,” Mrs. Dulcet said. “Mrs. Clark—Dane’s mother—made an effort to hide this room, but recently, Mr. Clark took an interest in refurbishing it.”
I gave her a curious look. When she flipped the light on, I understood.
“Oh, wow,” I said, taking in a lavish, cozy private theater. A movie theater, the large screen spanning the wall opposite me, a projector to our side. A few rows of La-Z-Boy style recliners sat next to a couch thick eno
ugh to get lost inside.
“He watched the movie here?” I asked.
“No, he hasn’t watched anything in here,” Mrs. Dulcet said. “The re-model was just finished today.”
A stack of DVDs sat on the far wall, and then I smelled it. Popcorn, sugar, soda—it was all here. All fresh. “Oh, no,” I said. “He wanted to do a movie night tonight.”
Mrs. Dulcet neither confirmed nor denied, she merely switched the light off. “It’s time for you to get going.”
“One second.” I raced through the castle, dodging wait staff as I hurtled up one twisting flight of stairs after the next. When I burst through the door of Mr. Clark’s study, he looked up in alarm.
“Is everything alright?” He halfway rose in his seat, but I gestured for him to sit down.
“Please...” I paused, heaving breaths from all those stairs. “Wait up tonight.”
Dane’s mouth turned up ever so slightly. “Of course.”
“Okay.” I nodded and turned then, sprinting back down the stairs. I kept running right through the front doors and into Semi’s waiting SUV.
“Love is a marathon,” he said in that deep, rolling voice of his at the sight of my breathlessness. “Not a sprint.”
“Yeah, well...” I gasped. “Drive.”
I finished the last two swipes of mascara in front of the mirror of my apartment. We’d gotten home just in time for Luke to arrive and pick me up any second.
“What do you think?” I turned to Semi, my summery dress giving a little whirl as I spun around. “Hot?”
He looked up from a book he’d unearthed in Dotty’s desk drawer, frowned, and returned to the text.
“Reassuring. Thank you.”
Since Semi was less than ideal to offer a word of encouragement for my date, I decided it was time for another one of Dotty’s bites of wisdom. Hopefully it’d be something upbeat, a little bit fun. Reminiscent of the many good memories we had together.
I picked up the purple notebook that I’d shoved in my purse, and opened to the first page with writing on it. By now, I’d given up thumbing through and looking for the old prophecies. The first ones I’d read were all still gone—disappeared completely—and a part of me liked the magic of it.
