Chapter 5

Harper

I was awakened from my dreams with a shriek only inches from my ear.

“What on earth?” I cried out, sitting upright. Dougie was hunched on the chair from the previous day, but not facing the corner. “What are you doing in my room?” I demanded. “You’ve scared the crap out of me and now my head feels ready to split. What are you doing here?”

“Bernadette and Ripley always feel like that when they’ve been drunk all night, too. It’s morning,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice. “You’re on duty. Get up, and stop being lazy.”

What had happened to the tamed boy I’d put to bed the previous night?

My door opened and in walked Katie.

“I want to play computer games,” she informed me.

I was struggling to wake up properly. I’d been dreaming of Brayden, and the memory of his kiss still had the potency to send a shiver through me. The two living horrors in my room were intent on sucking the life from me. They sensed I wanted some time and opportunity to code, and their mission was to prevent that. More than that, I wanted to sit on Brayden’s lap and be petted and hear how sorry he was for throwing me aside. It was too much to bear, and I began to cry.

“This is too hard,” I muttered and punched my pillow as tears formed in my eyes.

“Don’t cry,” sympathized Katie.

Dougie was less generous. “Stop crying, you stupid baby. Bernadette sent us to get you for breakfast. Find something decent to wear and come on,” he said over his shoulder as he left. I allowed myself to wonder briefly if I could plead insanity if I was tried as a murderess.

Sighing, I threw back the covers and flipped on the shower to warm up while I brushed my teeth. When I left the bathroom, I found Katie still waiting on my bed. I really needed my privacy. “What do you want?” I asked her and her face crumbled. “What’s wrong?” I asked her, pulling on panties and a bra and trying to brush my hair at the same time.

“I’m bored,” she whined and I rolled my eyes.

“You’re privileged. You need to have a hobby or some sort of a chore. I’ll tell you what. Your new job every day is to make your bed and straighten your room.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Bernadette has people to do that,” she pointed out.

“Maybe so, but you’re not learning to be responsible or how to have a chore that gives you a sense of accomplishment. That’s really important for how you see life from here on.”

“What do you do?”

Her questions were always pointed, always annoying. She badly needed a lesson in subtlety and empathy. “You mean besides watching you and Dougie?”

She nodded.

“Well, I’m building a website.”

“So, you’re on the computer?” Somehow it sounded over-simplified when she said it.

“Well, I suppose so, yes.”

“You call that working? I do that every day.” She moved to sit in the center of my bed, kicking the blankets with the intent of pushing them into a heap on the floor. I decided she would make my bed each day as well, but knew there was staff who came in to do that.

I pushed out a huge sigh and pulled on sandals. “Katie, you’re making me crazy. Let’s go to breakfast and we can talk about this later.”

“When?”

“When I say, okay?” My frustration level was almost maxed out and I could feel the cold rush of panic beginning in my stomach. I didn’t want anyone to know I had those episodes. They made me look weak.

I motioned for the girl to precede me from the room, and I followed her into the primary suite, where we joined the others for breakfast.

Ripley was reading a paper. No Kindle addict there, I realized. I watched him from the corner of my eye and noticed he wasn’t the least bit interested in what he was reading. It was all a performance that made him feel like the head of the family. It also allowed him to shield his face from the others as he ogled my chest. My face was burning with anger.

“Excuse me, Ripley, Bernadette mentioned that you were interested in getting to know Brayden Campbell?” I threw out the bait and sat back to wait. It didn’t take long.

The paper dropped, and I saw an older version of Dougie’s face on Ripley. His lower lip opened, and he reminded me of Pavlov’s dog, waiting for his reward. “Why, yes! I would very much like that!” he blurted, much to my satisfaction. He’d given himself away. He was no more an old friend of Brayden’s than the man in the moon. He lacked the intelligence and initiative to do anything other than cling to people he thought were successful. It was pitiful to see, but I enjoyed it nevertheless.

Bernadette almost dropped her cup of coffee as her mouth opened to protest, but a look from him silenced her immediately. Oh, my god! She was worse than him! She was wearing some awful green caftan and it had the effect of making her look like a black-haired bullfrog humped up on a rock, waiting for a fly. But I hadn’t finished with Ripley quite yet.

“I had drinks with Brayden last evening,” I continued as I picked up a slice of toast and slowly spread butter on it. “In fact, he asked me about you.”

“Oh? Really? What did he say?” Ripley was ready to wet his pants.

I pursed my lips and frowned slightly, if dramatically. “Oh, Brayden doesn’t talk business to me. He holds his cards close to his chest.”

Ripley’s face flashed toward Bernadette, a look of I told you so all over it.

She smiled with encouragement and pride. “Of course, Brayden wouldn’t discuss business with a nanny,” she threw in, her tone condescending. If I’d been hot before that, she’d just lit the match.

“Well, that may be so.” I threw her a weakened fly. “But I’ve known him long enough to say that when Brayden is intrigued by something or someone, he begins to ask around—you know, sort of see what others think of them? I’ve seen that before, just before he made a major move.”

“Oh, really?” Ripley was beside himself.

“Yes. If you’re interested at all, I’d stay close to him. Really close. He’s always been one to include his friends in a spontaneous moment, and they’ve always come out the better for it.” I took a small bite of my toast and leaned forward conspiratorially. “He’s a genius, you know. Has an IQ over 165.”

Ripley nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that. I could tell immediately he was one of us.”

I almost blew my bite of toast across the table at that comment but I forced myself to nod in agreement and even make my eyes adoringly large.

Bernadette’s arrogance was in full swing. With delicate arches of her wrists, she reached outward to shake the folds of her caftan sleeves as though she wore a royal robe. Her chin went up and she lifted her coffee mug with her pinkie arched outward. The mug handle wasn’t designed for that and she dropped it, the coffee cascading over her caftan. She hastily reached for her napkin, as well as Ripley’s. There was no power on the planet that could have forced her from the table during that self-adoring, self-important conversation.

I couldn’t stand it another second. I had to escape before I burst out laughing. “Well, I’m taking the children to the beach,” I announced, pushing back my chair as I stood. I motioned to the brats. “As I said, Brayden doesn’t ask about people casually. If you can spare the time, I’d make the most of it. He could learn a lot from you, you know.”

Ripley’s head was nodding like a bobble-head doll and I left the room, having sealed the deal for the arrogant Mr. Campbell. He needed a lesson in what it meant to underestimate me.