Chương 2
“Lionel,” Adrian said, “ask Julian Price to delay the presentation.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
Camille drew a breath. Her diamond earrings caught the chandelier light as she turned her head. “You cannot disappear because a former employee makes an accusation in front of donors.”
Elena stared at her. “I still work here.”
Camille’s composure slipped.
Only for a second.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It usually is.”
Reina pushed the service cart toward the corridor. The wheels squeaked over a seam in the marble. Elena took one step beside it, then stopped and looked back at Adrian.
“If we go into your office,” she said, “you don’t get to pretend I came here asking for something.”
“What is in the envelope?”
“A question the hospital says your family has to answer.”
The muscles along Adrian’s throat tightened.
Elena continued walking.
His office occupied a quiet corner on the mezzanine overlooking the lobby. It had dark wood walls, gray furniture selected by a designer, and a view Adrian rarely noticed unless someone else admired it. Lionel closed the door after Elena, Reina, Adrian, and Camille entered.
Elena refused the leather chair behind the low conference table. It was too deep, and she did not want anyone watching her struggle to rise from it. She chose the straight-backed chair near the wall.
Reina pulled another chair close and sat without being invited.
Camille remained standing.
Adrian placed his phone facedown on the desk. “Tell me what the hospital needs.”
Elena examined him for signs of the old Adrian, the man who had once eaten cold noodles from a paper carton on the floor of her first apartment because she had not owned a table. She found the same dark eyes and little else she trusted.
She broke the seal.
The envelope made a dry tearing sound.
Inside were three pages from a maternal-fetal medicine clinic. Elena unfolded them slowly, smoothing the creases on her knee. She had read the words enough times that some had stopped looking like language.
“They found an irregular rhythm,” she said. “It might be nothing. It might be inherited. They want medical history from the father’s family and, if possible, blood samples from a first-degree relative.”
Adrian’s gaze moved to her stomach again.
“Noah knew?”
“He knew about the baby. Not this.”
“You told him?”
“I was six weeks pregnant when he died.”
Camille looked at the floor.
Adrian leaned one hand against the desk. “Noah never said anything to me.”
“Noah said many things to you. You had a habit of deciding which ones counted.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
He pushed away from the desk, then caught himself before he began pacing. “How long were you together?”
Reina shifted in her chair. “You don’t have to answer that.”
Elena kept her attention on Adrian. “Almost a year.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No. It was private.”
“I saw him every week.”
“You saw him at board meetings. You saw him at the hotel. You saw him when he was useful or embarrassing. That isn’t the same as knowing him.”
Adrian’s expression hardened, but the anger had nowhere clean to go.
Camille folded her arms. “You were involved with Adrian before that.”
Elena’s thumb pressed into the edge of the hospital paper. “Three years before.”
“You understand how this appears.”
Elena looked at her crimson dress, her diamonds, the posture that implied rooms should arrange themselves around her. “To whom?”
“To everyone downstairs.”
“The people downstairs don’t know my name.”
“They will by morning.”
Adrian turned toward Camille. “Enough.”
“No, it isn’t enough.” Camille’s voice remained quiet, but it had lost its softness. “There were phones pointed at you. The hotel’s name is attached to a foundation bearing your brother’s name, and a pregnant employee has just told you in public that her child is his. We have to decide what can be said before strangers decide it for us.”
“She came from a medical appointment and went to work,” Reina said. “Maybe the strangers can survive not getting a statement tonight.”
Camille looked at Reina as if only then realizing another employee was present.
Reina met her gaze. She was five feet two, wore orthopedic shoes beneath her uniform, and had spent fifteen years carrying hot plates past people who believed invisibility was part of the service. She did not blink.
Adrian took the hospital pages from Elena only after she released them.
The baby’s surname was listed as Marlow. The father’s section was blank. Beneath the request for family information, a physician had handwritten that Elena should avoid prolonged standing until the next evaluation.
Adrian read the sentence twice.
“How long have you been on your feet?”
Elena sighed. “Don’t.”
“How long?”
“Since three.”
It was nearly eight.
“Why were you assigned this shift?”
“Because I’m employed here.”
“You have restrictions.”
“I got the restrictions today.”
“Then you should have gone home.”
“And lost the shift?”
“You wouldn’t have lost anything.”
Reina made a small sound.
Adrian turned to her. “What?”
She rubbed her thumb over a nick in the edge of her tray. “Nothing.”
“Please.”
“That word sounds strange in this building.”
Elena closed her eyes briefly. “Reina.”
“No, he asked.” Reina looked at Adrian. “We use attendance points. She called out twice last month after appointments. One more and she goes to review. Review means maybe nothing, maybe fewer shifts. Depends who’s scheduling.”
“That is not hotel policy.”
“It is banquet policy.”
“I own the hotel.”
“Congratulations.”
Camille’s head lifted. “Watch your tone.”
Reina smiled without warmth. “I’ve been watching my tone since 2011.”
Adrian picked up his phone.
Elena reached across the table and covered it with her hand. The movement was not fast, but it stopped him.
“Do not call someone and make me a special case.”
May you like
“You need to go home.”
“I need the medical information. I need someone in your family to answer the questions on those pages. I need you not to turn this into a performance where you discover workers have bodies.”
