Page 36 of Man of the Year

She shakes her head, closing her eyes. “You are trouble, aren’t you?”

Her hand goes to her chest, and she rubs the pendant hanging off her neck as if in meditation. Her eyes are closed, her lips slightly trembling.

I didn’t mean to make her upset or angry. I probably do come across as snappy—courtesy of my previous jobs. Rosalie seems like a nice person, maybe the only one here who somewhat cares about me.

“Who’s the pendant from?” I ask softly, trying to divert the topic.

Her eyes are still closed. I think she’s having a moment.

“My husband,” she replies in a whisper.

“You love him?”

Her eyes snap open, and I see them glistening with tears. “He’s dead.”

I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Rosalie. I didn’t mean to be a pain in the butt. Just… Nick did me a big favor by helping me out with this job. I’m grateful.” I step up to her and give her a big hug. She doesn’t hug me back, but that doesn’t matter. “And I like working with you. I’ll be on my best behavior, I swear.”

“That’s what Darla said,” Rosalie murmurs barely audibly, but I hear it. “Before she was poisoned,” Rosalie adds, making my blood run cold.

TWENTY-FIVE

ANONYMOUS

Tsk, tsk. Rosalie just can’t help but talk, talk, talk. What is the first rule in this house? Keep your mouth shut. But no, now she has to bring up Julien.

What Julien needs right now is to focus on his job. Right, Julien?

I rewind the camera feed and zoom in to see the way you look at Natalie.

I know you so well. I know that look, Julien. One girl is all it might take for your downfall.

The model citizen, Julien Lenz. Perfect credit score. Brilliant record. Excellent work ethic. House manager. Owner of the Precision Staff Management Company.

Liar.

This house is full of liars and spies. You, Julien, have more secrets than anybody. Everyone trusts you. You are in charge of this house. And what do you do? Fixate on a pretty stranger you met just three days ago.

She’s trouble. She’s nosy. She’s spying. She’s lying. And you know that. She can ruin everything you’ve worked for. There’s already enough collateral damage. People have been hurt. She might be next. So tuck your attraction away and focus.

TWENTY-SIX

NATALIE

At noon, the catering staff arrives—six men of various ages, all dressed in black dress pants and button-ups. Signature white neckerchiefs are in place. Seriously? They don’t introduce themselves and don’t talk, though they do listen to Rosalie’s orders and set up tables, flowers, and minimal but elegant decor and serving stations at the back terrace and garden with the speed of lightning.

An hour later, a van pulls up to the staff entrance with a food and drinks delivery. Sagar, the maintenance guy, is the driver.

“Is this part of your job, too?” I ask him as he carries crates and cases of soft drinks, water, and liquor into the staff kitchen.

He shrugs. “I do what I’m told.”

Don’t we all?

I follow Rosalie’s orders, casually asking at some point why the boss didn’t hire dozens of people to deal with this.

“Privacy. Non-disclosure.”

I widen my eyes at her. “You mean the catering staff signs a non-disclosure?”

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