Chương 2
“Yes.”
“Were you prevented?”
Evelyn looked at the access card in her palm.
Damian’s shoe had left a faint black mark across the brushed silver.
“Yes.”
“Did he threaten you?”
Damian stepped forward.
Noah moved between them before Evelyn even registered the distance closing.
It was not fast in the way movies made security men fast.
It was simply early.
Noah had seen Damian decide to move before Damian moved.
“Don’t,” Noah said.
Damian stopped.
Noah did not touch him.
The absence of contact seemed to hum in the room.
Evelyn stared at Damian.
She had known him for eleven weeks.
Not well.
That was the humiliating part.
Eleven weeks was long enough to create an impression and short enough to discover the impression had been assembled mostly from manners.
He had been charming at the museum dinner where they met. Funny in a dry, slightly cruel way she had mistaken for intelligence. He remembered the names of waiters. Sent thank-you notes after private dinners. Called his mother every Sunday, or claimed to.
He had also spent those eleven weeks asking questions that had seemed casual.
Which board meetings did her father still attend in person?
Did Reed Strategic own its own aviation division?
How many residences did the family maintain?
Was Evelyn really uninterested in joining the company?
Was the emerald pendant vintage?
She had thought rich men asked invasive questions because privacy had become abstract to them.
Now she wondered how many had been questions at all.
Noah spoke without taking his eyes from Damian.
“Evelyn, tell me what happened.”
She glanced at Vanessa.
Vanessa was pale beneath her makeup.
Damian said, “She doesn’t need to make a statement to your employee.”
Noah turned toward him.
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
“My attorneys will—”
“I expect they will.”
That silenced him more effectively than a threat.
Evelyn sat on the edge of the sofa.
Her knees had started trembling.
She crossed them to hide it, then uncrossed them because hiding it suddenly felt exhausting.
“The drive was in Damian’s office,” she said.
Noah’s brow moved almost imperceptibly.
“What drive?”
Damian closed his eyes.
There it was.
Not fear.
Annoyance.
The distinction mattered.
Evelyn watched him carefully.
“The black USB drive he said went missing after dinner.”
Noah looked at Damian.
“He accused you of taking it?”
“Yes.”
“It contained what?”
“He said acquisition documents.”
Damian interrupted.
“Confidential internal material.”
Noah ignored him.
“Did you see the drive?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago. He showed it to Vanessa and me after dinner.”
Vanessa’s eyes rose sharply.
Damian looked at her.
Again, that small warning.
Evelyn noticed.
Noah noticed too.
“Where was it?” he asked.
“On the desk in his study.”
“Did you touch it?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
Evelyn looked at Vanessa.
Vanessa’s lips parted.
Damian said, “This is absurd.”
Noah finally looked at him.
“Then it should be easy.”
The elevator chimed outside.
Damian’s head turned.
Noah’s father—
No.
Evelyn’s father.
The error almost made her laugh.
Instead she pressed her lips together.
Noah saw.
“You okay?”
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
The elevator doors opened.
Arthur Reed entered the penthouse with his overcoat still buttoned.
At sixty-one, he was not physically imposing in the way Damian was, nor professionally anonymous in the way Noah could be. His face had appeared often enough in business magazines that people who did not know what Reed Strategic actually did still recognized him at restaurants.
He saw his daughter.
Everything else in the room disappeared from his attention.
“Evie.”
Evelyn hated being called that in public.
Tonight she did not correct him.
Arthur crossed to her.
He stopped just before touching her.
That hesitation hurt worse than if he had hugged her.
He knew she disliked being handled when frightened. Had known since she was fourteen and a drunk driver sent their car into a concrete barrier outside Greenwich.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
“Anyone put their hands on you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Arthur nodded once.
His eyes traveled to Damian.
The softness left his face.
Damian straightened.
“Mr. Reed.”
Arthur said nothing.
That unnerved him.
Damian took another breath.
“This has been badly misinterpreted.”
“Has it?”
“There was a security concern involving proprietary information. Evelyn became upset.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“Upset?”
Damian looked at her as if they were alone.
“Evelyn, I know tonight got out of hand.”
Something in his tone made her feel cold.
Not because it was aggressive.
Because it was intimate.
He was trying to return them to a private language that no longer existed.
Arthur glanced toward his daughter.
She said, “He made the staff leave.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
Arthur looked back at him.
“All of them?”
Evelyn nodded.
“About twenty minutes before he accused me.”
Noah touched his earpiece again.
“Building hallway footage confirms three household staff exited at 10:42. Catering crew had already left through service access.”
Arthur removed his coat.
He folded it over one arm.
Evelyn knew that gesture.
Her father was buying himself time.
“What did you think my daughter had taken?”
“A storage device.”
“Why?”
Damian hesitated.
“Because she was the last person in the study.”
Vanessa moved.
A tiny shift.
Barely a step.
Arthur noticed.
“Was she?”
Damian looked at Vanessa.
She did not meet his eyes.
Arthur repeated, “Was she the last person in the study?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“No.”
Damian’s face hardened.
“Vanessa.”
“You were in there after her.”
Silence.
Vanessa rubbed her thumb over the side of her index finger, scraping at a place where the champagne stem had pressed into the skin.
Damian stared at her.
“You were drinking.”
“So were you.”
“You’re confused.”
“No.”
Her voice remained quiet.
The word landed cleanly.
“No, I’m not.”
Damian turned to Arthur.
“She’s been drinking since seven.”
Vanessa gave a small, breathless laugh.
It was not amused.
“Wow.”
Arthur ignored the exchange.
“Where is this device now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then call the police.”
Damian’s expression flickered.
May you like
Evelyn noticed before anyone else.
Maybe because she had spent eleven weeks learning his small reactions.
