Emerson
“It would seem you had a very busy weekend.” I enter my office to find my father sitting in my chair at my desk. He is sifting through my things with a displeased look on his face. “Navy Pier, shrimp, fries, and even pizza. Obviously, you have no respect for the image you must maintain. Prancing around like some harlot, making out in public like a teenager with a man that has been around the block a time or two. A man that I’ve been told doesn’t hide his love for women. Just a week ago he was in some club rubbing all over another woman, and now he’s moved on to you. Don’t you hold any respect for yourself?”
Then he looks up from the papers he holds in his hand, his brows raised in that judgmental manner I know oh too well. I’ve spent more than half my life seeing that very look, no matter how hard I tried to be the person he wanted me to be.
“And let’s not forget that you were seen leaving a certain detective’s apartment earlier this morning, wearing the same clothes you were wearing the day before.”
I stand frozen in the doorway of my office, staring at my father, wondering how he’d managed to gather all the information he held. He tosses the papers to my desk; they scatter across and a few fall to the floor on the opposite side. He stands and begins moving toward me. My heart races and I still say nothing in return.
When he pauses at my side, I feel my body begin to shake nervously.
“Detective Vaughn, is it? Ex-military and known for various heroic acts and crime cases throughout his division. Impressive, maybe? But is it enough for me to want my daughter on his arm? No. He doesn’t fit with our lifestyle, Emerson, but I think you already know that. Testing me is not something I advise you continue to do. I thought I made that clear in the past, but apparently I was mistaken. It sure would be such a shame to see all his accomplishments crumble around him with one simple phone call to the right person.” The warning in his voice is loud and clear. “I will not have my daughter running around the city acting like a whore for a man that this time next month will be on to his next piece of ass.”
* * *
“Do you mind telling me why you’re here still?”
My body jerks in surprise as I’m pulled out of my deep thoughts. I look up from my desk to find Gianna standing in the doorway of my office. My earlier thoughts are disappearing quickly, yet still leaving a lingering sadness inside me. She lifts her wrist to look at her watch and purses her lips. “It’s after six and my guess is you still haven’t eaten dinner.”
“I’m here because I have work to do and,” I reach out and lift the small container that was hidden just at the side of my computer, “I ate dinner less than an hour ago.”
“A bowl of fruit hardly qualifies as dinner.”
What she doesn’t know is technically it was my lunch, too, and that I gave over half of it to my assistant. The problem is after my conversation with my father this morning, the young girl's body found in one of our suites, and my unexpected run-in with Nic, I just feel utterly flipped around. Eating lunch or even dinner is the least of my concerns right now.
After we made it back to my dad's office, he assured me that he knew Nic’s superior very well and that if I continued to disgrace his name with my slutty acts, he would have no problem ensuring Nic’s position might somehow be eliminated, or worse.
I didn’t doubt my father because he did have a lot of power and pull throughout the city. I told Nic he would play dirty; I didn’t think he would stoop as low as having me followed, too.
“Pack it up.” Gianna waves her hand out. “I’m taking you for wings and a beer.”
“No,” I start to argue, only she begins packing up my things for me.
“That word is not part of my vocabulary.” She tsks at me. “You know this by now or at least you should.”
Trying to fight her never ends in my favor; she gets more persistent and most cases end with her leading me toward what I was attempting to avoid in the first place.
“The guys are at Mitchell’s pub and Spencer has our orders on hold.” I stop and practically trip over my feet when she mentions the guys.
“I can’t go to Mitchell’s.”
“And why would that be?” Gia places her hands on her hips and gives me her most serious look.
“I just can’t.”
We stand in the hallway just outside my office, near the elevator and share a form of standoff between us—me refusing to give in and her refusing to understand why.
“Is this about your father?”
Alarm rushes through me. “No,” I say quickly, “it's about me realizing that the only thing Nic and I share is physical chemistry. There’s nothing else there.” The lie burns as it falls from my lips. “Spending the weekend with him made me see that though he’s gorgeous and we have amazing sex, there isn’t anything more we have in common. It was a fling, but now it’s time for me to grow up and get back to reality.”
I can see the doubt in her expression.
“Being with him was a way to get the wild need out of my system, but I think we both know that Nic and Spencer aren’t lifelong romances.” Lies, so many lies, and I swear I can feel my heart breaking as I say them. “I have expectations for my future and a man like Nic can’t provide them.”
I watch as Gianna looks at me as if she has never seen me before—like a stranger, one she doesn’t care much for.
“I used to think it was your father that was pushing you to be the bitch that most people perceive you as.” There goes another crack. “I’ve stood up for you so many times, but the sad part is you are that person. He’s made you into what he wanted, molded you to be just another one of his puppets.”
I say nothing, though I want to tell her everything. Instead, I watch my best friend stare back at me with nothing but disappointment in her eyes. Before I have a chance to retract everything I’ve just said she turns away from me and enters the waiting elevator. She looks down at the floor, refusing to give me another ounce of her attention as the doors slide shut and I’m left alone…with nothing more than regret and emptiness.
* * *
“You have a detective here to see you about the incident in Suite 608.” My heart feels as though it leaps in my chest. “He is waiting in the conference room with two of his colleagues.”
I offer Rose a nod of acknowledgment and stop at my office to leave my briefcase behind before walking toward the large conference room at the end of the hall. My body trembles, and I find it impossible to breathe evenly.
My father is on a business trip and left this morning. I know had he been here it would be him answering any questions and not me. But how can I refuse to cooperate?
As I enter the room, I’m face to face with three men, one being the man I’ve thought about every minute of the last four days. The urge to call him was constant; the desire to feel his hands on me overpowering. But most of all, it is the way he makes me feel by just holding me close that I craved the most.
Security, safety…I’ve missed them every second of each day.
“Ms. Mansfield,” the man with the longer, shaggy hair says. He is one I hadn’t seen the day of the murder. “I’m Detective Norris and I believe you’ve met Detective Vaughn and Detective Miller already.”
“I have,” I say as I shift my gaze to Nic and find that he is looking at the file he holds in his hands and not at me. It causes a sting that I have no right to feel. After all, I was the one to push him away just as my father wanted me too. I am an idiot. “What can I help you with?”
“We’ve got a few questions regarding some gaps in the security footage of Sunday evening and early Monday morning.”
“The security team that Mr. Mansfield set you up with should be able to answer those questions for you.” I look back toward Nic to find him still avoiding eye contact. “They have access to all the tapes.” I may have handled quite a few things in the company, but security was always my father’s responsibility.
“Which they provided for us,” the other guy from the morning of the investigation, Detective Miller, says. “But the problem is that two segments of video have been removed from those tapes. One from about eight p.m. on Sunday evening, which we have been told was within a few minutes of Ms. Quintes’ arrival. There is also a gap around three forty-two a.m., which the medical examiner has indicated to be about ten to fifteen minutes after the estimated death of our young victim.”
My heart races as my mind goes over the things they said.
“But very few people have access to the security room. If anyone goes into that room without scanning a badge, the alarms sound and alert the local police department. It’s the same with our vault.”
“So then we need to know who all has access to the security room,” Nic finally speaks as he lifts his head and locks his gaze with mine. “Because I hate to burst your bubble, Ms. Mansfield,” his nose wrinkles when he says my name, “but there is someone on your staff that has deliberately deleted two time slots on the videos, and we need to know who and why.”
All I can do is nod because this is all somewhat of a shock. Why would anyone delete anything from the tapes? Unless they were trying to hide something, either for themselves or someone else. This also means that among those people on that list my father would also become a suspect. I understand that I will most likely suffer through my father’s wrath once he gets word that I provided information to the police that may or may not lead to his interrogation concerning his whereabouts during the missing time slots. But what choice do I have? In the end he may be pissed that he has to prove he had nothing to do with the situation or the cover up of a horrific crime, but for now I have to provide the information.
I spend the next thirty minutes giving the detectives every name authorized to access the security room. I willingly hand this information over because something isn’t right, and I want to find this person almost as much as they do.
Except for the one question Nic asked me, he hasn’t said anything more. He avoided looking at me and allowed the other men to ask all the questions. He merely continued to listen intently as he stared down at the file he held. I wasn’t sure if there was something of interest he was looking at or if it was his way of keeping his focus off me.
When they’re done, he gathers his things and stands from the table in what appears to be a hurry. He looks past me as if I’ve not spent the last thirty minutes being drilled with one question after another. Like he doesn’t know me. Like a recap of how I’d treated him only a few days ago.
My heart sinks when I realize what I’d done. Not calling Nic was hard, but seeing him now just reminds me of what I so willingly stepped away from. That familiar ache I’d had when my father told me to stay away from him, or even when Gia looked at me with disappointment, had returned.
The first two detectives offer me thanks as they began to walk toward the door and I reach out to place my hand on Nic’s arm just as he starts to follow. “Nic,” I whisper his name and feel his arm tense beneath my grasp.
I have so many things I want to say, so many feelings I wish to express as I stand there and fight against the worst internal war I’ve ever felt in my life.
“It’s okay, Emerson,” Nic says in a whisper of his own, still keeping his eyes focused straight ahead instead of looking at me. “We had fun while it lasted, but why lie to ourselves and pretend we were in the running for some lifelong romance.”
An alarm fills my body as I keep my hand on his arm, the words he speaks only a repeat of my own from days before.
“You got to spend a little time being wild, and now you can go back to those lifelong dreams that a guy like me can’t fulfill.” My hand slips from his arm as he steps away and he joins the two men who wait for him just outside the room. I think his words sting more because they are my own being thrown back in my face. And the fact that every single one of them are nothing more than lies crushes me. Nic is the type of guy to give a fortunate woman a lifelong kind of love. I could have been that woman. He is the first real thing I ever had, and because of the fear I have of my father and the hold he has over my life, I let that chance go.