Page 61 of Man of the Year

“Do you need anything?” I repeat, ignoring his question.

He smirks and lowers his eyes. “He could stay drunk in his room for weeks, for all I care.”

And that—that—doesn’t make sense. That’s the first rule of the house—no booze. Everyone is concerned about Rosenberg behaving himself because tomorrow is a big day for IxResearch. Yet Julien saysthat? Nothing makes sense today.

I’m about to walk off when Julien calls my name. It sounds gentle, almost caring. “Be careful, okay?”

There’s no warning in his voice this time, just concern, and that somehow doesn’t make sense either.

Slowly, I bring my fingers to the side of my forehead in a military salute. “Yes, boss,” I say, smiling.

Julien shakes his head, turning away, hiding it, but I already caught a smile in his eyes.

I walk to my car, about to get in, when I see someone by the garden shed staring at me. It’s Walter, the gardener. He’s openly glaring. I have a feeling that he has been watching me since I’ve been outside with Julien. He and Dave, the security guy, should have a glaring competition.

I wave to Walter, and he turns and stomps away. I haven’t really spoken to him at all. I don’t think he likes me. I rarely see him inside the house. He’s always running errands or doing outdoor stuff. But whenever I see him, his eyes are trained on me like I’m the enemy of the state.

Why do I get all those glares at The Splendors? This place is giving me the creeps, but I really have to figure out Rosenberg.

Booze?Your wish is my command.

Except I have a little surprise for Rosenberg. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I’m definitely not going to be a pawn. I need him to talk, not fight. I need him to be a teddy bear, not a predator. Today, he won’t try anything funny, or at least, he won’t be able to. Because I’m going to use his own weapon.

When I get in my car, I open the glove compartment and take out a KitKat. Except when I peel back the wrapper, it reveals a thin rectangular lid. It’s one of those diversion “secret stash” products. Inside it—I hope Cara hasn’t used it for anything crazy—is a little baggie with pills, Ambien. Cara occasionally takes them at parties to mellow out and chill. Me, I used half of one for sleep, and it knocked me out for twelve hours.

Right now, I need two. When I’m at the store parking lot, away from any possible cameras, I’ll grind them into powder and wrap them in a discarded chocolate wrapper I find lying around. When Rosenberg drinks his Jack, he’ll drink this too, and then I’ll have my way with him.

FORTY-SEVEN

ANONYMOUS

You are supposed to keep this place in check. What do you do? Brood over a girl who can’t follow the rules.

Bravo, Julien!

FORTY-EIGHT

NATALIE

When I return to The Splendors, before I even get out of the car, I do several things.

First, I put the little chocolate wrapper with ground-up sleeping powder in my pants pocket.

Second, I put my phone on silent, then turn on the recorder app, and tuck the phone under my shirt and the hem of my pants. Screw the no-phone rule. When I’m upstairs with Rosenberg, I need proof of everything that’s being said and done. I wish my breasts were bigger so I could use my bra as a hiding place. Alas.

Next, I take the large cookie tin I got in the store, empty the cookies into a plastic bag, then stick a bottle of Jack Daniel’s into it. If I’m on hidden cameras, there’s no way to prove there’s anything in the tin but cookies.

Last, I need to take the envelope the stalker gave me and stick it in my pocket. I rummage through the stuff in my purse but can’t find it. Worried, I dump the contents of the purse onto the passenger seat, feverishly go through all of it, then turn the lining of my purse inside out, but the envelope is nowhere to be seen.

Crap.I definitely put it in my purse this morning before I left my apartment.

My head spins as I give up the useless purse search and lean back against my seat. Someone has gotten into my purse. Someone took the envelope. I don’t know what was in it, what type of info, but if it’s for Rosenberg’s eyes only, it must be sensitive, and whoever took it knows I had it.

Dammit!

Okay, maybe it’s in the locker. Maybe it fell out.

I take several deep breaths to calm my nerves, pick up the cookie tin and my purse, and step out of the car.

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