by Diana Seere
Well, this was where Eva had gotten very vague. “It’s a major security issue,” Eva had said. “I can’t tell you more. Our job is to see if the leak might’ve come through someone visiting the Platinum Club.”
Eva had said she didn’t trust an outside administrative assistant to come in and help her make the spreadsheets, or hire an IT expert to produce a serious database, and none of the Stantons were likely to sit at a laptop all day, even if they knew Excel. And so Molly was called in.
“Our heroine,” Eva had called her. And today, Eva waved at a carafe and collection of breakfast dishes at the end of the table and said, “Help yourself to food and coffee. You’ll need your strength for the day ahead.”
Molly got herself coffee and some scrambled eggs. “Thanks. I was hungry.” Because she wasn’t a social guest at the house but some indeterminate employee, she hadn’t known how or where she would get the basic elements of sustenance. She didn’t want to barge in on some family event uninvited. Relieved to have her hot caffeine, she returned to her seat. “So what should I do?”
Eva handed her a thumb drive. “For you. Remember, no email. No cloud. Nothing we do leaves this room.” She’d given Molly the laptop in Boston. It was brand-new and empty, with all kinds of password protections. It didn’t even have Wi-Fi or a web browser. It was just a glorified typewriter.
Molly inserted the drive and transferred the files. “Got it.”
“Now you have everything I have.” Eva smiled slightly. “About club attendance, that is.”
“I’ve already started a template,” Molly said. “Just the basics you said we should look at—name, visiting date, member or guest.”
Molly opened up the first file from the thumb drive. It had lots of names, dates, and times listed with columns of indecipherable letters and numbers. She scrolled through the spreadsheet, intimidated by the countless rows. “I hope you don’t want this today.”
“I would like it, as would the Stanton family, but it’s impossible. We know that. We’re asking you to do something manually that should be done with a professional analyst, but we just can’t risk bringing one in yet. If we find something, we will. Right now we’re looking for breadcrumbs. A starting point. Anything, Molly. Anything suspicious.” She handed Molly a scrap of paper with several dates jotted down. “Start here. Record the names, time stamps, if they left and came back, who they were with. By cross-referencing with the restaurant and bar records, you might be able to see who was with whom, what they were doing.”
“But the Plat doesn’t keep track of what people get,” Molly said. “There’s no tab, right? Members get whatever they want as part of membership.”
“We like them to feel that way, yes. But—now, I assume you know this is highly confidential—the bartenders have always kept a record of what’s moving onto the floor. For inventory, for planning, for… for an unforeseen circumstance such as this one. We don’t remind them that we record their arrivals and departures either, although we do tell all new members when they join the club.” Eva put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “We don’t know what you’re looking for. Trust your instincts. Tomorrow we’ll talk. I’ll be busy until then, so please don’t come looking for me. Whatever it is can wait.”
Molly was suddenly uneasy at the idea of being stranded in this living room with a laptop and a mountain of data. She’d majored in fashion design, not this. “But—”
“Take all the breaks you need, but stay here. Food and refreshments will be brought to you,” Eva said. “When Morgan arrives with them, you will have a short time to relieve yourself in the bathroom across the hall. But please, don’t go downstairs, don’t use the other bathroom, don’t go for a walk. We need you to, ah, watch the laptop. You understand.”
After a pause, Molly said, “Sure. I understand.”
Eva’s face warmed with a smile. “Good girl. Thank you,” she said, rising. “And good luck.” She snapped her own laptop shut, lifted it under her arm, and strode out of the room, her sleek, elegant hair not moving a millimeter.
Molly had the oddest feeling about this project. Now that she was sitting in front of the laptop, she wondered what she could possibly find just by casually poking around a few names and dates.
Correction. Thousands of names and dates.
Sipping her coffee, Molly got to work, hoping she’d have a job when this was over—because she didn’t have a clue what she was doing.
Around three in the afternoon, Molly pushed the laptop away, stood, and stretched her back with a groan.
How had she lost track of the time? The butler—Morgan, his name was—had brought her lunch and fresh coffee, but she had worked straight through the day without taking a serious break, all on very little sleep. Her first night at the Montana ranch had been filled with endless dreams of Edward.
She wanted him out of her dreams and into her bed.
Now, after hours of deep concentration, she was fried. There was no more she could do without a serious rest.
She’d found the database surprisingly interesting and a welcome distraction. The Platinum had quite an array of famous guests, and she’d enjoyed reading the names: movie stars, politicians, sports heroes. Working in the dressing room downstairs, she hadn’t had the chance to see many celebrities. Now that she was stationed on the main floor, she looked forward to rubbing elbows (or more) with Ryan or Justin or Jamie someday.
Smiling to herself, she closed her laptop. No, not going to happen. Eva had reminded her about staying away from the guests. Losing her last two waitresses—Lilah and Jess—to Stanton men had been, Eva had said, a personal failure on her part. She’d vowed to be more vigilant from now on.
Molly thought about Edward with another smile. He wasn’t a member of the club, though, was he? In all the days and weeks and months of names she’d combed through, his name hadn’t come up once.
She wanted to see him. Now. Eva would understand her quitting for the day or at least a few hours; she’d worked seven hours straight. And discovered absolutely zilch. The only thing that had stood out was a drink order for Tang at two in the morning. Hardly the kind of brilliant, top-secret revelation Eva was hoping for.
It was probably just Mason Webb, the member the waitresses hated to serve because, in addition to his fondness for Wallbangers made with Tang instead of orange juice, he was a grabby, alcoholic bully. He’d even groped her once a year or two ago when she’d been showing a new waitress around. He was the type of Plat member who made her grateful she didn’t serve drinks.
When she opened the door to leave, Morgan suddenly appeared in the doorway, blocking her. Had he been standing out there in the hallway all day?
“Everything all right, Miss Sloan?” he asked. He was a small man with white hair and a light eastern European accent.
“I’m done for the day, Morgan. I was going to go for a walk.” She lifted her chin. The laptop was in a bag over her shoulder.
“Miss Eva would like you to stay here, Miss Sloan.”
“Before, yes. But I’ve been in here all day. I can’t do it anymore.” She showed him the bag. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the computer with me.”
His gaze raked over the bag. “It needs to stay in this room.” His tone was polite but firm. “I beg your pardon,” he added with a bow.
“All right, but I don’t need to,” she said. “I’m tired. I need some air.”
“We can open the windows.”
Her mouth fell open. Didn’t they trust her to walk around the estate by herself? She knew she wasn’t rich or famous, but she’d worked for the Plat for years and was Eva’s personal assistant. “I’m not going to do anything. Just walk around the lake.” She had a strong urge to prove her independence. Eva had told her to stay in the room, sure, but she hadn’t meant for her to stay forever. She went back to the table, set down the laptop bag, and returned to the door. “You can guard the computer. I’m taking a little stroll.”
Morgan’s face was granite. As was his f
igure, blocking her exit. “Of course, Miss Sloan. I’ll accompany you.”
“That really won’t be necessary.”
“Forgive me,” he said, bowing again, “I have promised Miss Eva to look after you until she’s free to do so herself.”
“But then the laptop will be here unguarded.”
“I’ll carry it. It is no problem.”
She felt that it was a problem, but as long as she got out of the room for a while, she’d feel she’d won the battle. But why was it a battle? Morgan was probably just too literal-minded and wanted to do exactly what Eva had said. Knowing what it was like to be an employee at the whim of the rich and powerful, Molly took pity on him.
“I’ll get it,” she said, going back to the table for a second time, picking up the bag, and carrying it over to him. “You can tell me about yourself while we walk.”
His dark eyes widened. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, ducking his head.
Smiling, she strode out in the hall. “If we have to be together, we should get to know each other a little better.”
His lips tightened. She could tell he didn’t like that but was too professional to argue.
“Have you lived in Montana long?” she asked. That seemed harmless enough. She was curious to know what country he’d come from originally, but she had the oddest feeling he wouldn’t tell her. He had a Cold War kind of secrecy about him. He was probably Soviet-era Russian. Maybe an ex-spy. Her imagination ran off into impossible directions, a pleasant diversion from the long hours reading database reports.
Morgan cleared his throat. He was trying to walk a few steps behind her, but she kept slowing down for him. “I do not live in Montana,” he said reluctantly. “I reside in the city of Boston.”
“Oh!” She stared at him. “You came out with Eva too?”
He glanced down, licking his lips. After a moment he said, “Yes.”
“Like me.” Funny. She’s never seen him at the Platinum Club, yet he worked for Eva. Huh.
He nodded once and said nothing more.
“I thought you were the house butler,” she said. “You seem to be in charge around here.”
That seemed to please him. His eyes crinkled slightly. “I have, ah, seniority. I’ve worked for the Stanton family for many, many years.” Then he frowned as if he’d said too much and gestured toward the stairs. “Shall we continue, Miss Sloan? You expressed an interest in walking outside. You’ll need a coat, I believe. I’ll escort you to your room.”
She opened her mouth to argue but then realized she was exhausted. It had been a long day. She really did just want some fresh air. Giving up on fighting poor Morgan, she allowed him to escort her to her bedroom, where she got her jacket and a hat, and went out to explore the lake. Morgan trailed behind. If she did see Edward, she’d have little chance to continue what they’d started last night.
Chapter 9
Edward wasn’t at the lake.
But when she returned from a brief, chilly stroll in the fading light of the winter afternoon, he was waiting for her.
In her room.
Morgan was still shadowing her and showed every sign of intending to linger indefinitely. Just as she was closing the door between them, eager to try to forget he was there, she turned and saw Edward standing near the window with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Good afternoon,” he said formally. As if he were a waiter, not the man who had kissed and pleasured her the night before.
Worried by his mood, she swallowed her exclamation of welcome. Something was wrong. “Edward,” she said. “What happened?”
“Why do you ask that?”
She rolled her eyes. He was as bad a conversationalist as Morgan had been. “You’re in my room looking like somebody died.” Then she flinched, considering what she’d said. “Nobody did die, I hope?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Not recently anyway.”
Unsure what that meant, she took off her coat and hung it on the back of a chair. She didn’t think he was here to suggest they slip away for another standing orgasm. She didn’t think he was going to suggest even a handshake.
She shouldn’t have been surprised—they were at his family estate and she was an employee—but she’d hoped… she’d known…
Last night hadn’t been an ordinary encounter. It had been special. Hadn’t he felt it?
His face was hard, not giving up a thing.
She swallowed over a lump in her throat. She’d really been stupid this time. All day a significant part of her had been looking forward to seeing him again. She’d assumed they would…
Obviously not.
She crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “Say what you came here to say.”
“Molly,” he began. “I’m so sorry.”
“About what?” She wanted him to put it into words. She wasn’t sure what he regretted—their kisses? The lack of a future?
“We can’t get involved,” he said.
“Why not?”
He shrugged and looked away. “There are several obvious reasons.”
“Because I’m a nobody and you’re a big, fancy Stanton?”
His eyes widened. For the first time, she saw a glimmer of humor. “Firefighters are fancy?”
She’d almost forgotten his career. She felt another pang of loss. She’d never even seen him in his uniform. “They are when they’re Stantons,” she said.
“That’s not why I can’t—why we can’t get involved.”
“I’m sorry, Edward, but I can’t believe that. Come on.” To her horror, she heard her voice crack. What was the matter with her? She barely knew the guy, but the thought that she’d never be in his arms again filled her with a sense of unspeakable loss. His aftershave tickled her nose, making this even worse. In the scent she smelled a deeper connection, and knowing she couldn’t touch him was painful. “Will you please leave now?” Her voice was completely shaking now.
“Molly, oh Molly,” he said, rushing over to her. He stopped himself when he was just out of reach, clenching his hands into fists. He stared, his eyes piercing into hers. “I wish—I can’t express—bloody hell, we can’t end like this.” He marched to the chair, picked up her coat, and held out his arm.
“What are you doing?”
He shook out her coat and held it up to her. “We’re going out to discuss this properly. You deserve that.”
“What’s to discuss? You don’t want to get involved.” She wiped her nose, furious with herself for getting upset. How embarrassing. “It’s no big deal. We never made any promises.”
“Maybe not in formal terms,” he said, “but in our own way, perhaps we did.”
Perhaps? Was she the only one who’d felt… who’d dreamed…
She cleared her throat, stood up taller. “I just got back from a walk,” she said. “I don’t need another one.”
“Then we’ll go for a drive. It would do us both good to get away from this place for a little while.”
“I just got here last night.”
“It’ll be good to get away from my family, then.” His voice dropped to a mumble. “Get you away from them.”
“You want to take me away on a private drive to talk about why we can’t see each other?”
His brow furrowed. He nodded.
The last thing she wanted was to be trapped in a car with a guy in the middle of nowhere, forced to listen to him explain why he didn’t like her enough to get involved.
She went over to the door and pulled it open. “I don’t think so.”
“Molly, listen to me, it’s not what it seems like,” he said. “I-I can’t explain everything, but—”
Morgan appeared in the doorway, eyes on her but clearly monitoring Edward. “May I be of assistance, Miss Sloan?”
Not since Morgan had appeared with her lunch had Molly been so glad to see the elderly butler. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Please remove this man from my room, would you? I didn’t invite him.”
Edwar
d frowned. “What the hell are you doing here, Morgan? You never leave the Novo—”
“I beg your pardon,” Morgan said swiftly and severely. “I’ve been tasked with escorting the lady.”
“What lady? Molly?”
Irritated by his implication that she wasn’t worthy of being called a lady, Molly’s determination to kick him out only solidified. “Does Eva need me, Morgan?”
Morgan bowed. “Indeed, Miss Sloan. She requests your attendance at a small gathering in the great room. Fifteen minutes, if you can manage that.”
“What kind of gathering?” Edward demanded.
“None of your business,” Molly snapped. Then she offered Morgan a sweet smile. “What kind of gathering?”
“A cocktail party with everyone who has thus far arrived on the estate,” Morgan said.
“I didn’t hear about this,” Edward said.
“I beg your pardon,” Morgan said, not sounding like he was begging for anything at all. If anything, it sounded like a rebuke.
Edward spun on Molly. “You shouldn’t go. It’s not… right.”
“Because I’m just an employee? Like that Lethbridge professor lady said?”
“Because—” Edward stopped when Morgan stepped between them and roughly cleared his throat.
“The lady has asked you to leave,” Morgan said.
Edward dashed to one side and caught Molly’s gaze. “I’ll leave if you promise to stay in your room.”
Her temper snapped. “I don’t have to promise you anything,” she spat. “Besides, my boss wants me at that party. My company is wanted,” she added in a prickly tone. “I’m working. Get out.”
“Molly—”
With speed that should have been impossible for the old man, Morgan swept Edward out of the room and shut the door behind them with a gentle click. She heard low voices arguing furiously on the other side of the door and then silence.
Edward wanted to reject her and control her at the same time?
