Page 5 of Charlie
After pouring himself a glass, he motioned for us to sit down.
“You have a very beautiful house, sir.”
“Mmm.” Robertson gave a minuscule nod of his head.
I sipped my water, impatient to hear what he wanted to talk to me about.
“I need your help.” He tapped his index finger on his glass. “And I think you need mine.”
Shifting in my chair, I licked my lips, feeling nervous.
“You come from money, but now you’re in need of it.”
I frowned, not liking that he knew this about me.
“You grew up with easy access to funds. Your parents were described to me as rich and generous by nature. But then they cut you off a year and half before you graduated. That put you in a rough situation.”
“I manage.”
“Yes.” Robertson lowered his glass and looked thoughtful. “You’re a resourceful woman.”
I wondered how many details he knew about the time my parents gave me the ultimatum to either break up with my boyfriend or be cut off financially. It had broken my heart, but I hadn’t hesitated in choosing my independence and my self-respect.
“Can you confirm that you’re no longer in a romantic relationship?”
My throat felt dry so I took a bigger gulp of water from my glass. “I’m not.”
The relationship with Miguel had only lasted four months after the split from my parents, but I didn’t regret standing my ground. Never had I imagined my parents would hold their money over me as leverage. It had infuriated me. Especially, since their argument that he wasn’t good enough for me was based on the things that mattered to them and not to me. So what, if Miguel was a broke musician? He was kind and funny and we were great at laughing together. On our first date he took me salsa dancing and made me feel pretty and adored. When I twisted my ankle four weeks into our relationship, he carried me seven blocks on his back.
I didn’t pick him so he could make my parents look good among their friends, I picked him because he was transparent, funny, and kind.
And yet, over time, my parent’s criticism had weighed down on our relationship. Things that hadn’t bothered me before began to annoy me. Like the fact that Miguel couldn’t pay his share of the rent. Or that he would box our food and give it to homeless people, which was a sweet thought, except I was the one paying for the groceries.
I couldn’t afford to feed the neighborhood. Hell, I couldn’t even afford to pay for Miguel and me.
My scholarships didn’t cover my full tuition, and being financially cut off by my parents, I had been forced to obtain student loans and work on the side to not lose my apartment.
If it hadn’t been for my friend Sydney, who introduced me to her lucrative side business, I wouldn’t have graduated.
“I could use your services and you could use my money.” Robertson had built the Solver empire and he was a man used to getting what he wanted.
My chest heaved in a deep intake of air. Of course he wanted to talk to me because of the services I could offer him. I should have known. “I’m very particular over whom I offer my services to. To be honest, I’ve only had four clients and they were regulars. Our age difference is something I’d have to think about before I agree to this, but what I can tell you is that I charge two thousand per event you bring me to. I have dresses for most occasions but if you require me to wear something specific, I’ll have to approve it and the cost will be yours to cover on top of the two thousand. There are no sexual services included of any kind. No touching and no kissing but dancing is fine, as long as it’s clean.”
Robertson had straightened up in his seat and there was curiosity in his eyes now. “You’re a very attractive woman, Ms. Christensen, but I’m seventy-six and you could be my granddaughter. I’m not asking you to escort me to a function.”
“But you said that you needed my help.”
“I do.”
Crossing my legs, I admitted, “I’m confused.”
“Mmm… yes, but before I reveal the nature of my request, I must ask that you sign a non-disclosure agreement. This is a private matter and I don’t wish for the press to get a tip.” Turning in his chair, he reached for a brown envelope and took out three pieces of paper for me to sign.
When it was done, he took his time to put them away before he folded his hands in front of him. “I’ve called you here because of my grandson, Charles. He went to Ireland to participate in a conference, and enjoy a few weeks of traveling around the country. The plan was for him to stay in Ireland for three weeks and then come back home and continue his work for Solver Industries. He’s been gone for five months now and it’s become clear to me that he’s fallen prey to a cult.”
He trailed off but I kept waiting for him to tell me more.
“I suppose Charles being involved with them is proof that having a high level of intelligence doesn’t always come with a developed critical sense.”
