Despite all the effort she’d put into avoiding Nate—and potentially learning too much that she’d have to share with Mosely—Nadia ended up going to see him instead of the other way around.
After her encounter with Mosely, she realized she couldn’t stand to go to her Teen Charity League meeting anyway. Though they had no interest in helping those less fortunate than themselves, the Trio always attended the meetings, reveling in the chance to prance and preen and lord their lofty status over lower-ranking Executives. Dealing with Jewel was bad enough, but fending off verbal jabs from the entire Trio—in front of their adoring fans, no less—held no appeal. And Chloe would be there. Nadia wasn’t up to pretending she wasn’t still angry and hurt by her friend’s desertion, no matter how well she understood it.
Besides, if she didn’t get the tracker planted on Nate as soon as possible, Mosely might get impatient with her. More impatient than he already was.
Getting in touch with Nate turned out to be harder than she’d expected. He wasn’t at home, he wasn’t at work, and he’d either turned off or was refusing to answer his personal phone. According to his majordomo, Nate was dodging his father, who wanted him to make some commercial. Eventually, Nate got word that she was trying to reach him and asked her to meet him at his apartment—after the workday was over so his father was less likely to ambush him with a camera crew.
The first thing she noticed when she saw him was that Nate looked exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was a droop to his shoulders she’d never seen before. He was dressed as if for the office, but he’d dispensed with the coat and tie—if he’d ever worn them—and rolled his sleeves up to just below his elbows. Mosely had suggested she plant the tracker in Nate’s wallet, but she wondered whether he took it with him when going to the Basement. If she planted the tracker in his wallet and he didn’t take it with him, Mosely was probably going to hold her responsible for it.
Her eyes caught the glint of the gold chain Nate wore under his shirt, the one holding the locket she’d supposedly given him. He might not take his wallet to the Basement, but he wore that locket everywhere, and it could be easily concealed under his clothes.
Nate smiled at her in greeting, but the smile didn’t light up his eyes as it usually would. No doubt some of it was worry about Bishop. However, if Mosely was telling the truth about Nate’s venture into the Basement last night, Nate might very well be every bit as sleep-deprived as he looked. Nonetheless, he managed a shadow of his usual jaunty grin as he invited her in.
If she were being a proper Executive, Nadia would have been careful to make sure that she and Nate stayed within sight of the servants, preserving her reputation, but Nate had long ago broken her of that particular cautious habit. She might hesitate to go off alone with him in public, but in the privacy of his home—or hers—she was willing to make exceptions. No servant who couldn’t be trusted to keep his or her mouth shut would hold on to a job in the Chairman Heir’s household.
Accordingly, Nate led her to the private sitting room right outside his bedroom. It was a cozy, comfortable room, with overstuffed chairs, bookshelves that might be considered full with only half the number of books on them, and a large gas fireplace that Nate flipped on automatically, even though it wasn’t cold. Nadia would have grumbled about the waste, except she knew how much Nate liked having a fire going.
“Want a drink?” he asked, ignoring the comfortable chairs and pacing in front of the fire.
Nadia didn’t think her stomach would welcome any company, and she almost refused. Then she realized a drink could give her the opportunity she needed to plant Mosely’s tracker. She needed to get Nate to take off the locket, and she suspected the only time he did that was when he showered.
“A hot cocoa would be nice,” she said, though she knew that wasn’t the kind of drink Nate had in mind. Nate might decide he needed to shower if she spilled wine or beer on him, but he might just change his clothes. The chocolate would make a more significant mess, which was just what she needed. If Nate hadn’t been so busy staring moodily into the fire, he probably would have seen the guilt playing across her face and wondered about it. But he didn’t, and she did a decent job of keeping her voice light and guileless.
“Maybe with some Bailey’s in it?” Nate said, but didn’t wait for her approval before ducking his head out the door and signaling to a servant. “Two cocoas with Bailey’s.”
Nadia shook her head at him behind his back. It never occurred to him that she might want something other than what he suggested. Sometimes, it amazed her that he could be such a good guy and yet be so oblivious to everyone and everything around him. Just more proof that Nate’s Replica was exactly like the original Nate—to the point that she had a hard time remembering that he wasn’t.
“It’s like he never died,” she murmured to herself, but Nate heard her and shifted uncomfortably.
“The original Nate, you mean. I never quite know whether to use first person or third when I talk about stuff that happened to him. I mean, it happened to him, but I remember it happening to me.” His brow furrowed, his expression becoming uncharacteristically serious. “But someone really did die. There’s a body and everything. I feel like I should … I don’t know, be more torn up about it or something.”
Nadia nodded. “I should be grieving for him,” she said, “but it’s hard to feel like he’s dead when you’re here.”
“Guess that’s kind of the point of Replicas.”
They both fell silent, lost in their own thoughts. Nate stared at the fire, and because she was too restless to sit still, Nadia perused the overloaded bookshelves—although she’d done it before and knew better.
Nate very much enjoyed shocking people, so of course the books he kept so prominently displayed in his sitting room were predictably not what a respectable young Executive should be reading. In fact, if Nadia’s parents had any idea what sorts of books were sitting here out in the open where she could get her hands on them, they’d never allow her into the room.
Nadia blushed and smiled ruefully as she read the spines of a couple of books that, based on their titles, looked to be gay porn of some kind. To someone who didn’t know better, those books probably seemed to be there only for their shock value, or to complete his collection of erotica. In reality, they were probably the only books on display that he’d ever read. If Nate were paying any real attention to her, he’d be teasing her for looking at them, pulling favorite titles from the shelves and trying to get her to look at pictures. It showed just how troubled he was that he didn’t even seem to notice.
With a sigh, Nadia moved away from the bookshelf while her luck held, and moments later the hot cocoa arrived. Nadia thanked Nate’s butler on both their behalf, and Nate quickly shut the door behind the man. He must have been feeling especially paranoid, because he flipped on his sound system, scanning the contents until he found a soundtrack that seemed to be a thunderstorm at the beach. The kind of sound that would mask their voices if anyone was listening outside the door but wouldn’t force them to shout to hear each other. It was the first sign she’d gotten that Nate truly understood the seriousness of the situation. He gestured her to a pair of wing chairs in the far corner of the room, and they both sat, putting their cocoas on the small table between the chairs.
The chairs were overstuffed and made for comfort, and the high backs and the corner location made Nadia feel almost as though she were sharing a secret cave with Nate. If there was a more private place to talk anywhere in his apartment, she didn’t know of it. She took a quick sip of cocoa, both to moisten her throat and to test its temperature. Too hot to “spill” yet. She wanted to get the whole ugly thing over with, but she fought down her impatience. She wondered if she dared question Nate about his efforts to locate Bishop.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to.
“I went to the Basement last night,” Nate blurted.
Nadia recoiled as if shocked, widening her eyes and letting her jaw drop open. “You did what?”
Was she overdoing it? He would expect her to be shocked, maybe even angry with him for his recklessness, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to him doing shocking things. She should probably recover quickly from her initial reaction, so she snapped her mouth closed and tried to make herself relax.
She felt like an actress, playing a role for which she was not adequately prepared. Sure her guilt was written in big, bold letters all over her face, she dropped her gaze and grabbed for the cocoa, desperate for something to look at other than Nate’s face.
But though Nate might be feeling paranoid enough to put on the thunder and waves to cover their conversation, it never occurred to him that the real threat might be in the room with him. He went on blithely without even glancing at her to see her reaction.
“I have to find Kurt, and the only place I can think of to start looking is in the Basement.”
“Why do you have to find him?” she asked, before she thought better of it. Mosely would expect her to encourage Nate to keep looking for Bishop, and if she should somehow talk him out of it … But what were the chances of that? Nate was not the kind of person who’d allow himself to be deflected once he’d set his mind to something. And yet Nadia couldn’t help pressing when Nate gave her an outraged look.
“I know why you’d want to find him,” she hastened to clarify. “But why do you feel you have to? If he’s hiding in the Basement, it’s because he has … connections there. Surely those are the kinds of connections he needs if he’s going to keep from getting caught. You aren’t going to be able to help him with that. Besides, if he wanted your help, he’d have reached out to you. He hasn’t, has he?”
Nate’s face reddened, and he looked away. “I’m not looking for him because I want to help him.” He grimaced. “Well, I was at first. But you’re right, and I know he doesn’t want my help. But I need to find him anyway. I need him to tell me what happened the night I was murdered.” His fists and jaw were clenched tight, his body language closed off. Was he angry because of what had happened to him, or because Bishop had left him in the dark? “I need his help to figure out who really killed the original Nate. I can’t even come up with a reasonable guess who it could be. I mean, they had to know they couldn’t really get rid of me, so what was the point? Whatever made them do it, it happened during the blank spot in my memory, so I have nothing to go on. I need Kurt to tell me what happened after you went back to the ballroom and left us alone.”
“But aren’t you worried you’ll lead Mosely’s people right to him if you find him?” Nadia didn’t want to know what Mosely would do to her if he could hear her right now. But the words seemed to trickle out of her mouth without conscious thought.
“I’m being careful!” Nate snapped, no doubt taking her words as an implied criticism.
Nadia sucked in a deep breath and told herself to stay calm. This was the way he always reacted to what he perceived as criticism, and she should be used to it. And clearly, he was being careful. Mosely knew he’d been to the Basement last night, but he hadn’t been followed or observed. That was an impressively sneaky maneuver—one he wouldn’t be able to pull off again once Nadia completed her assignment.
“You got lucky,” she said, knowing how little Nate would appreciate it. “You’re trying to outwit a professional spy with a whole network at his fingertips. Do you really think you’re up to the challenge?” Mosely would likely drag her off to Riker’s Island right here and now if he could hear what she was saying. And yet she couldn’t seem to make herself shut up.
It’s what Nate would expect you to say anyway, she consoled herself. If she meekly accepted his determination to find Bishop no matter what the risks, he would know something was wrong, even if he didn’t know quite what.
“I have to be,” Nate said grimly.
“But—”
“I’ll be careful. Besides, Kurt isn’t in the Basement. In fact, he’s not even in Paxco anymore.”
“What?” Nadia swore if one more shock came her way today she was going to pull all her hair out by the roots. “How do you know?”
Nate clasped his hands in his lap and stared at them instead of looking at her. “I want you to promise me not to make a big thing out of this.”
“Out of what?”
Nate cleared his throat and faced her, though he only held eye contact for a second before he looked away, and she could see by the set of his shoulders that he was bracing for her reaction.
“Kurt and I used to go to the Basement together sometimes. You get treated better there when you’re paying in dollars, so I always kept a pretty good stash in the apartment. Kurt and I were the only ones who knew where the money was…”
“And now it’s missing,” Nadia finished for him. On the one hand, this probably meant that Bishop was out of Mosely’s reach and whatever objectionable actions Nadia was forced to take wouldn’t condemn him. On the other hand, stealing Nate’s money—without, apparently, leaving any word of where he was going and without any explanation or apology—didn’t much seem like the act of an innocent man. Maybe she and Nate were both being naive about Bishop. Maybe he was guilty. People the world over did terrible things for money.
“I told you not to make something out of it,” Nate said tightly, reading the thoughts on her face. “He was in trouble, and he needed money. I don’t begrudge him.”
“Of course not,” Nadia murmured, despite a chill of unease. To get to that money, Bishop would have had to flee the scene of the crime in Long Island, return to Nate’s Manhattan apartment, and then escape to the Basement without being caught. The side trip to Nate’s apartment seemed almost fatally dangerous …
Unless he’d already stolen the money and had taken it with him to the mansion. Maybe Nate had caught him with the money, and Bishop had stabbed him to keep him from talking.
“Nadia, he didn’t kill me,” Nate said. “I know he didn’t.”
Nadia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The evidence certainly looked damning. But surely if Bishop had wanted to steal Nate’s money, he could have done it at any time. Why would he have chosen to do it on that particular night, with all the heightened security of the Hayes mansion standing in his way? Why not just slip out of the apartment quietly, in the middle of an ordinary night, while Nate was asleep?
“I believe you,” she said, and it was true. “And I understand why you want to find him. But if he’s not even in Paxco anymore, then why did you go to the Basement?”
“Kurt and I have some … mutual acquaintances there. I thought some of them might have an idea where he’d gone, or at least be able to get a message to him for me.”
“Any luck?” she asked, though she could tell from the slump of his shoulders that the answer was no.
“Not yet.”
“So you plan to go back.” The little tracking device tucked in her pocket felt like it was burning her through the cloth, but of course that was just a symptom of guilt. Nothing she’d learned had changed what she had to do, nor had it made her task any less distasteful. Betrayal was betrayal, whether the plan had a high likelihood of success or not. And whether they could lead Mosely to Bishop or not, the “mutual acquaintances” Nate talked to were going to have huge bull’s-eyes painted on their backs, thanks to Nadia.
“I have to,” Nate confirmed. Then he ran a hand through his hair and looked uncomfortable. “But I have a little, er, problem.”
If whatever he was thinking made Nate uncomfortable, Nadia was quite sure she didn’t want to hear it, so when he fell silent, she didn’t prompt him to continue. Not that she thought that would save her from whatever Nate was about to get her into.
Nate squirmed in his chair. “Like I said, dollars are the currency of choice in the Basement, and Kurt took all of mine…” He gave her an imploring look.
Nadia did not like where this was going. “Let me get this straight: you’re asking me for money.”
“Dollars,” he clarified, as if that somehow made it better.
Nadia’s heart thumped indignantly in her chest. A girl of her age had absolutely no use for dollars. If she needed anything from the black market, she’d get it through her parents or Gerri or some other intermediary. Which Nate knew perfectly well.
“And where are you expecting me to get those dollars from?” she asked in her most glacial voice.
Nate stopped giving her puppy-dog eyes, his stare turning challenging instead. “Don’t play coy. You know what I’m asking.”
“You want me to steal from my parents.”
“Borrow,” Nate corrected. “You know I can pay you back. It’s just, I need the dollars now, and it’ll take me a while to restore my supply.”
“I’m sure my parents would understand completely,” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. If Nate knew half of what she’d been through already because of him, would he still ask her to do this? He would never forgive her for her betrayal of him, but it gave him barely a moment’s pause to ask her to steal from her own parents. She’d never thought of him as a hypocrite before, but this was making her rethink her opinion of him.
“I’m sorry to have to ask,” he said, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. His eyes flashed with something that looked much more like anger than regret. “I’m trying to find out who murdered me. Don’t you think that’s a little more important than what trouble you might get in if your parents find out you’ve dipped into their money?”
For the first time since she’d gotten old enough to know better, Nadia let go of the reins controlling her temper. She shot to her feet, grabbing her almost-forgotten cup of cocoa from the side table. Then she flung the contents right in Nate’s face. The chocolate geysered out of the cup, soaking not only his face, but his hair and chest as well, droplets spotting the rug beneath his feet and the chair he was sitting in. Nadia even felt a few drops hitting her own skin.
Stunned at what she had done—even though it had been at least partially premeditated—she stood there with the cup still raised, staring at the mess she’d made. Nate blinked chocolate out of his eyes, then winced. She supposed now he was wishing he hadn’t decided to spike her drink. She didn’t imagine chocolate and Bailey’s felt too good on the eyes.
She lowered her hand back to her side, then put her empty cup down. She bit her tongue to keep from apologizing as Nate rose slowly and silently to his feet, chocolate dripping from the end of his nose.
“I’ll get you the dollars,” she said, not looking at him. “You knew I’d do it before you even asked. Would it have killed you to acknowledge that asking me to steal from my parents is a big deal? Couldn’t you have just asked nicely instead of trying to guilt me into it?”
She expected Nate to snap at her, or act offended. After all, he’d never been good at taking criticism, no matter how well deserved. But for once, he surprised her.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. But Nadia, I love Kurt, and he’s in danger because of me. I took him out of the life he’s always known, and I promised I’d protect him. It’s eating me up inside that he’s going through this hell because of me, and I’m just—” Nate’s voice choked off, and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes, he seemed calmer. “I’ll try to stop being such a jackass,” he said. “But I miss him. And I’m scared for him. And I’m … angry. That’s no excuse for taking it out on you, I know. You’re the only true friend I have right now. I’d give you a hug, only I don’t want to get cocoa all over you.”
Nadia’s throat tightened, and she wanted to scream out her frustration. Who was she to take Nate to task for his behavior, when she was here acting as Mosely’s spy, when she’d just thrown her cocoa at him not just because she was angry, but because it was her best chance to get Mosely’s tracker planted on him? Maybe in the end, the two of them deserved one another.
“I’m going to go shower and change,” Nate said. “Maybe it’ll give us both a little time to cool off, and then we can talk again.”
Nadia nodded her acceptance, too burdened by guilt to speak.
Nadia’s nerves buzzed with tension as the bedroom door closed behind Nate’s back. He was comfortable enough in her presence that he didn’t close the door all the way. She could hear him moving around in his bedroom, hear sounds she interpreted as him slipping off his clothes and leaving them in a heap on the floor. Then the clink of metal touching down on wood, which she hoped was him taking off the locket.
Holding her breath, she prayed he’d close the bathroom door more tightly than he’d closed the bedroom one, or there was no way she could get the locket without being caught.
The sound of a door snicking shut seemed to indicate her prayers had been answered. No doubt Nate was going to try to make the shower quick, knowing she was waiting for him, which meant she didn’t have much time to work up her nerve. If she was going to do this, she had to get moving now.
As she’d guessed, Nate’s clothes lay in a heap on the floor, and the locket rested on top of a heavy walnut dresser. Keeping a wary eye on the bathroom door, she edged toward the dresser and picked the locket up in hands that shook just a bit. Her mouth was dry, and every beat of her heart pumped a new wash of guilt into her blood. Her eyes prickled, and she blinked rapidly to keep herself from crying. Guilt and tears were not luxuries she could afford.
The locket was still warm from contact with Nate’s skin. Nadia pressed on the clasp, and the locket popped open to her picture, which she took a moment to regard with a critical eye.
She’d known that Bishop had put a picture of her in the locket, of course. Hard to pretend it was a gift from her if her picture wasn’t in it. But she’d never actually looked at it before, and she felt an uncomfortable stirring in her gut now that she did.
There were thousands of pictures of her available on the net. Even if she hadn’t been semiengaged to the Chairman Heir, her status as daughter of a president made her a favorite with the press. Most were posed shots, where she wore her practiced Executive smile. Some were the embarrassing, unflattering shots the press loved with mean-spirited glee. Things like the picture of her at the age of three, all dressed up in pink velvet and ruffles, with her finger up her nose. The press had just loved that one—as if it somehow should have been embarrassing for an Executive three-year-old to act like a three-year-old.
Of all the thousands of shots Bishop had to choose from, he had chosen the very shot she would have if she’d actually had to choose herself.
It was a true candid shot, one she’d had no idea was being taken at the time. Although he wasn’t in the picture, Nadia remembered that she’d been talking to Nate. It had been the occasion of his eighteenth birthday, a gala ball that made the wedding reception that led to his death seem like a small family gathering by comparison. Nate and Nadia had been cornered by the Terrible Trio, who had, as usual, flirted and simpered and fed Nadia a steady stream of sly, backhanded compliments.
Nate had the glibbest tongue of anyone Nadia had ever met, and for every backhanded compliment the Trio had handed her, he’d handed them one right back. Only his were so smooth and elegant none of the Trio had ever guessed they were insults. Only Nadia had recognized what he was doing, and her eyes glowed with that knowledge when the photographer snapped the shot.
Instead of her usual practiced smile, she wore an expression she would almost call impish. There was life and vivacity in her expression, a sense of contained energy that in some ways resembled Nate’s. She looked beautiful, and intelligent, and somehow very real.
Was it just dumb luck that had caused Bishop to pick that particular photo, or did he know her better than she’d ever realized?
You’ll never know, because you’re going to help Mosely capture him, and he’s going to die.
The thought brought guilt flooding back into her system, and Nadia carefully picked at the edges of the photo to dislodge it so she could slip the tracker behind it. The photo came loose, and she lifted it out, expecting to see nothing but the metal back of the locket. What she did see made her gasp and drop the little photo of herself.
If she’d been a little less naive, Nadia might have guessed that Bishop wouldn’t give Nate a locket with only her picture in it. It was a love gift, after all, even if the boys needed her picture in it for camouflage. Maybe she should have been expecting to find a picture of Bishop behind her own. But even if she had, what she saw would have shocked her.
It was a picture of Bishop, all right. Only it wasn’t a head shot like Nadia’s—it was a full-body portrait. And he was naked.
A proper Executive girl would have averted her eyes the moment she realized what she was looking at, but though Nadia told herself to cover up the photo at once, she found herself unable to move, even to tear her eyes away.
The photo was tiny—it had to be to fit in the locket—and yet there was more than enough detail to flush Nadia’s cheeks with scalding heat. She’d known about the tattoos on his arms and torso, as well as his facial piercings. It was hard not to know about them when he made a habit of wearing mesh shirts when he wasn’t in his livery. But she hadn’t known that the tattoos had continued down below his waist. Nor had she ever had reason to know he’d been pierced in places she hadn’t even realized it was possible to be pierced.
She told herself to quit gawking, but she couldn’t seem to follow her own advice. She knew what the male anatomy looked like, of course. Executive girls were supposed to be demure and innocent, but as long as the net existed, they would never be as pure as the nineteenth-century misses they were supposed to emulate. Nadia and her friends had spent many a stolen moment looking at photos and videos their parents would heartily disapprove of. But that wasn’t the same as seeing a photo of someone you knew.
The sound of the shower turning off finally shocked Nadia out of her paralysis. She was running out of time. She hastily covered the image of Bishop with her thumb as she used her index finger to pry the edge of the photo up. Urgency made her fingers clumsy, and she almost dropped the tracker as she tried to slip it in behind Bishop’s photo. If Nate caught her at this, she would be completely busted, no way out. She couldn’t afford the nerves any more than she could afford the guilt.
She managed to wiggle the tracker into place, then gingerly snugged the edges of Bishop’s photo back in, painfully aware that her fingers were brushing over the image of his naked body. She bent to retrieve her own picture, glad to cover the photo that was turning her into such a klutz. The locket was only designed to hold one photo at a time, and it was a tight fit to get both photos and the tracker back in. If Nate opened the locket and looked at Bishop’s picture, he might notice how tightly the locket’s contents now fit.
Finally, she got everything back in and snapped the locket shut. She put it back on the dresser just in time, slipping out of the bedroom just as the bathroom door started to open.
About the last thing Nadia wanted to do on this already incredibly long day was put on her public face and play the role of the dutiful Executive daughter at one of her mother’s dinner parties. But unless she could manufacture another bout of flu, there was no getting out of it. Entertaining was one of the chief responsibilities of Executive spouses, and Nadia’s mother took her responsibilities very seriously.
Even when hosting the smallest, most informal of Executive events, Esmeralda was stressed for days in advance as she tried to make sure every detail of the evening was carefully planned out, with backup plans and backups for the backups. Today’s dinner was worse than most, however, thanks to Nadia’s visit to the security station, which the press was still gleefully harping on. A handful of guests—including the Rathburns, naturally—who had previously accepted the invitation called to make their excuses, leaving Esmeralda in a state of high anxiety as she hurriedly rethought her carefully conceived seating arrangements.
Nadia tried to be helpful and tried to put real thought into questions such as whether Edward Brandywine could be seated within hearing distance of Marvin Hamilton without danger of a loudmouthed political debate that would make nearby guests uncomfortable or whether it would cause murmurs if Rebecca Kay were seated near Mark Rickman, who was rumored to be her lover. Decisions such as these would be a big part of her life once she was married, and because of her exalted spouse, they could have serious social and political ramifications. But how could she treat seating arrangements as important with all that was going on in her life now?
Being continually scolded for her distraction didn’t help Nadia’s temper any, and when she tried to explain herself, hoping for at least a modicum of sympathy from her mother, she was sorely disappointed. She didn’t even get in a full sentence before her mother cut her off.
“You have to learn to compartmentalize, Nadia,” Esmeralda told her with a frown of disapproval. “Everyone has turmoil in their lives, but you mustn’t let it interfere with your obligations.” Nadia opened her mouth to protest that her particular turmoil was worse than most, but her mother didn’t let her get a word in edgewise. “Before Gerri was born, I hosted a dinner party less than twenty-four hours after I had a miscarriage. I smiled and chatted and supervised as if I hadn’t a care in the world, then went to bed and cried for three hours straight when it was over.”
Nadia had no idea her mother had ever had a miscarriage, much less that she’d had to carry on in the face of it as if nothing was wrong. Her mother just didn’t share personal information like that, not even with her own daughter.
“How did you do it?” Nadia asked in a small voice.
But her mother shook her head. “I just did it. There’s no great magic trick involved. You learn by doing. I know it’s not easy, but I have confidence in you. You’ll find a way.” She rearranged the seating chart yet again. “Now, tell me what you think of this,” she said, handing the chart to Nadia.
Their moment of mother-daughter bonding was apparently over. Which was just as well, because Nadia had something more important to talk about anyway. She’d made a big deal with Nate about having to steal money from her parents, because that was what she’d have had to do if she weren’t reluctantly in league with Mosely. But since she was cooperating, and her family approved of her doing so, there was a much easier way.
Nadia put the seating chart down without comment. “I need dollars,” she blurted, unable to think of a graceful way to ease into the subject.
“Excuse me?”
Nadia had originally imagined unburdening herself to her mother, telling her all the details of her arrangement with Dirk Mosely—and telling her the exact threats that Mosely had made. But her mother had once again made it clear how little patience she had with human frailty, and Nadia just wanted to get this whole ordeal over with as fast as possible.
“To keep up the charade that I’m helping Nate, even though I’m really stabbing him in the back. I need to give him some dollars.”
“I … see.” Esmeralda picked up the seating chart, as if she couldn’t stand for her hands to be idle for a moment.
Nadia found herself practically holding her breath, hoping her mother would ask her questions. Hoping she would show some interest, or even concern. She had to know Nadia was going through hell right now and could use her mother’s comfort. But Esmeralda Lake had never been much for nurturing.
“You’ll want to talk to Gerri tonight,” she said, leaving all the questions unasked. “She uses the black market more heavily than your father and I do, so she’ll likely have more dollars available.” There was a definite hint of disapproval in her mother’s voice, and Nadia felt a moment of smug satisfaction that for once it was directed at her perfect sister instead of her.
The satisfaction faded almost as soon as it had appeared. If Nadia failed to appease Mosely, it was Gerri and her children who would suffer the most for it, and she was ashamed of herself and her petty jealousy.
“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll ask Gerri.”
There was another awkward moment of silence, as Esmeralda seemed to be at a loss for words. Then she turned her attention to the seating chart again.
Gerri lived in another one of the three buildings of the Lake Towers, so it was relatively simple for her and Nadia to slip out of the party during the cocktails-and-mingling portion of the evening before dinner was served. If their mother hadn’t approved the plan in advance, she would have been furious with her daughters for shirking their duties as hostesses—though technically Gerri was a guest. As it was, she gave them both a pointed look when she saw them heading for the door, a look that told them in no uncertain terms that they’d better hurry back. Gerri acknowledged her with a nod.
Gerri’s apartment was silent and dark, though somewhere in the children’s wing Rory and Corinne were probably still awake in the care of their nanny. Gerri led Nadia to her home office, where she opened a wall safe and withdrew a couple banded stacks of dollars. There were plenty more inside the safe.
“Will this be enough?” Gerri asked as she stuffed the dollars into a manila envelope.
“I honestly don’t know,” Nadia admitted. Unlike their mother, Gerri had actually wanted to know what the dollars were for, and Nadia had told her the whole story—except for the threat Mosely had made against her children. Gerri had the right to know, but Nadia didn’t have the heart to tell her. There wasn’t anything Gerri could do about it, and Nadia wasn’t going to take chances with the kids’ lives, so there was no purpose to making her worry. Nadia felt guilty for keeping the secret anyway.
Gerri tapped the edge of her desk with her nails, making an annoying little clicking sound as she studied the contents of the safe and frowned.
“It’s hard to know,” she murmured. “If he were using the dollars for the black market, I’d have some inkling, but for this specific purpose…” She shook her head and handed the envelope to Nadia. “It would have been helpful if you could have asked him how much money he needed.”
Nadia had been too angry with him at the time to even think about it. Besides, it wouldn’t break her heart if she gave the dollars to Nate and it ended up not being enough for his needs. As long as she could tell Mosely it was an honest mistake, anything she did to delay Nate’s search could only be helpful.
“It will have to do,” Nadia said firmly. “I’ll tell him this was all that was in Dad’s safe.” At least Nate was putting in an appearance at the party later tonight. He’d declined the dinner invitation—as he did whenever he could possibly get away with it—but because he needed to get the money from her, he had promised to make a cameo appearance to lend the party a little extra cachet.
Gerri reached out and clasped Nadia’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’re doing the right thing, you know. No matter how bad it makes you feel.”
“Betraying the man I’m going to marry, helping Dirk Mosely arrest an innocent man, and maybe even causing a bunch of innocent people to be tortured…” She shook her head. “It might be the only thing I can do under the circumstances, but it’s not the right thing.”
Gerri sighed. “Nadia, protecting yourself and your family is always the right thing to do. You have to choose your battles, and choosing to battle Mosely is insane.”
“Now, maybe,” Nadia said as anger burned in her core. No one should have the kind of power Mosely wielded and abused, not even when they were investigating murder and treason. “But he’s not invincible. Someday, he’ll make a mistake.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing him take a very long tumble, I must admit.”
If she knew he’d threatened her kids, would she be quite so willing to put up with him now? Anger spurred Nadia, almost hard enough to make her tell Gerri the whole truth, but she managed to contain it. Telling her wouldn’t change anything.
“Maybe you and I can help make that happen,” Nadia suggested as she took another look at the envelope full of dollars her sister had given her. Dollars Gerri had because of her extensive dealings with the black market, where she routinely bought tech for personal use that was of higher quality than that manufactured by Paxco.
“What do you have in mind?” Gerri asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice, as if she was prepared not to like whatever Nadia suggested.
“When he hit me, Mosely gloated that he could get away with it because no one would believe me if I told. But what if I’d been wearing a recorder of some sort at the time?”
Gerri shook her head. “Even if you could prove he hit you, it wouldn’t be enough. If we go after him, we have to go after him with something that will kill him. Wounding him would be a very, very bad idea.”
Nadia nodded her agreement. “I know. And like you said, we might not be able to do anything about him right now. But what if sometime in the future, he finds himself standing on less firm ground? Even the most powerful people in the world can have their moments. It’s not like no one’s ever had bad things to say about Mosely before.”
“True,” Gerri said slowly, no doubt cataloging in her mind the times Mosely’s behavior had been called into question.
“What if the next time he’s on the defensive about something, we produce recordings of him threatening me? Or worse. Lots of people would give him a pass right now because he’s investigating a case of treason and it’s all so new and fresh. But what about a couple of years down the line?”
“I don’t know, hon,” Gerri said doubtfully. “It would take an awful lot to take him down, and I’m not sure it’s worth the risk. If he should find out you were recording him…”
“How would he ever find out?” Nadia imagined there was a hard glint in her eyes. “He thinks I’m just a frightened little girl who’ll do whatever he tells me to.”
“Maybe so, but still—”
“I want to make him pay. You don’t know what it’s been like, being forced to give in to his demands like this.” Nadia suppressed a shiver and reminded herself for what felt like the thousandth time that no good could come from telling Gerri about the threat to her children. “Maybe if I’m at least trying to get him back, it will make this all more bearable.”
Gerri still looked unconvinced, a line of worry creasing her brow. She wasn’t given to bouts of uncertainty as Nadia was, and Nadia felt briefly bad for putting her in what must have been an awkward position. That didn’t stop her from trying to bolster her own argument.
“Do you think…?” She paused to carefully consider her words before speaking. “Maybe I’m letting him get to me too much, letting my imagination run away with me. But I feel like there’s a chance Mosely could make me mysteriously disappear before this is all over. He knows I’ll never forgive him for the things he’s done, and he also knows I’m destined to be the Chairman Spouse someday. He might find it more convenient if he could stop that from happening.”
For one of the few times in her life, Gerri was speechless, staring at her little sister in horror.
“But if I’m recording him, maybe even transmitting the recordings to a remote location, I might have a little leverage to stop that from happening.” Nadia shivered again. “Or at least make him pay for it after the fact. You would know where the recordings are being stored, and if anything ever happened to me…”
Gerri pulled her into a rib-crushing hug. “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” she said fiercely.
“But—”
“I’ll go shopping first thing in the morning. Paxco doesn’t make anything that would fit the bill, but I’m sure I can find a microtransmitter on the black market that would do the job.” Gerri released her from the hug, but kept her hands on Nadia’s shoulders, fixing her with an intent stare. “Promise me, promise me, that if we do this, you’ll pretend the transmitter isn’t there. Do not go fishing. If Mosely says something incriminating, fine. But don’t try to lead him into it. Don’t take the chance that he might figure out you’re wearing it.”
Perhaps Nadia was giving her sister an inflated opinion of her courage. Much though she wanted to get revenge on Mosely, the idea that she was going to try to record him scared the hell out of her. No way was she going to take any more chances than necessary.
“I promise,” she said simply, and after another soul-searching look, Gerri nodded.
“Okay then. Let’s get back to the party before Mom sends a search party after us.”
Forcing a smile, wondering how she was going to endure an evening of gossip and small talk, Nadia followed her sister out of the apartment.