Page 50 of Man of the Year

“Here.” He pulls out what looks like an envelope.

I let out a relieved breath. “What is this?”

“Your pay.”

“That’s for three days?”

“Yes. And for you to not show up tomorrow.”

“Why? Is that you suddenly being a concerned citizen?”

“That’s me protecting you.”

“I don’t need your protection, Julien.”

“Or so you think.”

“I’m not a quitter.”

He rubs the top of his head with his palm, the movement casual but out of character. Tonight, everyone is on edge, including Mister-I’m-In-Control-House-Manager.

Julien’s eyes are on me again. Silence burns between us as I’m trying to figure out if we are on the same team, same wave, or same hate train. I really am starting to hate everyone in this mansion.

“I didn’t mean to be rough,” Julien says apologetically, which confuses me more than him trying to fire me. “Back in the library—I apologize for mishandling you.”

His apology takes me aback. His sudden change in the way he treats me even more so. Julien’s gaze on me is so intense that I’m starting to worry about the meaning behind it.

That moment when you see want in a guy's eyes—it's powerful. You learn to detect it when you work with people.

Nick wants me, but he’s too ambitious and too close to the boss to be really interested in a cleaning lady.

Rosenberg doesn't want me, but he’s interested for other reasons. There’s something dark about his dealings with women.

Julien is different. I can't figure him out. I often catch him staring at me. At first, I thought he was protective of his workspace. Then, I figured, it was curiosity. There are moments when I think he’s interested in me. He might be the type who needs time to get to know people. Or…

If it'sor, he could be a Pandora’s box. I’ve met those before. Some of the quietest people in bars have the loudest stories to tell. There are those whose stories never reach the light. There are psychopaths. They are master manipulators. Some play nice, side with the law, though in fact, they are the executioners, willing to cover up about anything and “deal” with emergency situations in their own screwed-up way.

Julien might be playing more games in this house than anyone. In that case, I should be careful, because that means he's a controlling kind, the quiet one, the gray cardinal. Andthat’s the most dangerous type.

THIRTY-NINE

NATALIE

As soon as Julien goes back inside, I walk to my car, get in, and lean back against the driver’s seat, closing my eyes in relief.

All the staff was on edge earlier. It’s as if everyone has been trying to prevent something horrible from happening. Something Rosenberg has done before. I can’t wrap my head around it, and no one is telling me anything.

I have chill pills in the glove compartment. I need a dozen to calm my nerves, but I won’t take them—I need to stay clear-headed. Inside my car feels like home, it feels somewhatsafe, and as seconds go by, the noisy thoughts in my head fade.

Loud rapping against the driver’s window makes me jump.

“Jesus,” I mutter. It’s Nick. I roll down the window. “Hey, stranger.”

“Sorry about tonight,” he says, though I’m not sure why he is the one apologizing.

I shrug.

“What a clusterfuck, eh?” He blurts out a short laugh.

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