Page 16 of These White Lies
“Daria.” Elizabeth gives the woman a small smile. “Any fires?”
“Surprisingly, no. Some voicemails from the press, but the crisis firm said not to answer them. They are going to coordinate with Mr. Bloom’s office.”
I don’t think she’s a threat, but until I get a grasp on what’s happening, I’m not ruling anyone out. I make a mental note to get an employee list to send to Sera for background.
“Excellent. Thank you.” Daria’s shoulders relax a little at the praise.
When Elizabeth doesn’t introduce us, I step forward with a half-smile and point at myself. “Brady. Bodyguard.”
Daria giggles, then glances at Elizabeth like she’s committed a crime.
I see the tiny muscle at the corner of her jaw flex, but she ignores me. “Can you prepare a tray of coffee? Benardi and his agent should be here in thirty minutes.”
Daria bites her lip. “His agent called to reschedule.”
“Great. It’s already starting,” she mutters.
Daria hesitates. “Also... Natalya Solokov’s publicist called. Natalya… she… um…” Her gaze falls to her desk for a moment, before she lifts her head and squares her shoulders. “She died.”
Elizabeth goes still, her complexion draining of color.
Immediately, I’m alert. “Who?”
The name sounds familiar.
“Natalya is one of my clients. She’s a model.” Elizabeth replies faintly. “What happened? When?”
Daria’s lips turn down. “I don’t know. Just that her body was found at her house. The publicist called yesterday, but you were out all day, and I didn’t want to say over the phone. I was going to tell you this morning but… with everything…”
Elizabeth swallows hard. “It’s okay, Daria.”
Waiting until we are in her office, I ask, “Were you close to her?”
“No,” Elizabeth says, sinking into her chair. “Not particularly. She was so young. Just starting over after a nasty divorce.” Her gaze flies up to meet mine. “It’s a coincidence.” It’s obvious the news has shaken her.
“Probably,” I lie.
I don’t believe in coincidences. And someone else close to her has been found dead in their home.
She pulls some files from her desk drawer and stares down at them blankly, before closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. “I…um… I just need…”
“I’ll be right outside the door.”
I don’t take the look of relief on her face personally. Having someone in the room watching can feel oppressive until you get used to it. Some people never do.
Pulling the door closed behind me, I dial Elite’s main line.
“Finn,” I say, as soon as he picks up. “I need you to do your magic and get me everything you can on Natalya Solokov’s death. Apparently, she was a model. ASAP.”
“On it, Boss.”
Twenty minutes later, he calls back, and I step several feet away from Daria. Far enough away that she can’t easily hear me but still positioned between Elizabeth and the main entrance to her offices.
“Not just a model, asupermodel,” Finn informs me. “Discovered by her maid yesterday. They’re saying home invasion.”
“Anything stand out?”
He lets out a low whistle. “The crime scene photos are brutal. Looks like she was tortured. House cleaned out. She’d been dead almost three days. No suspects. No forensics.”
