Chapter 8 - The Rule Vincent Broke
Vincent had three rules about betrayal.
Never react before you understand the motive.
Never reveal what you know before understanding what the other person knows.
Never trust emotion during an investigation.
Norah made him break the third rule before breakfast.
“You’re not going to that dinner alone.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
He blinked.
Norah continued chopping onions.
“Julian Mercer may have tried to kill you.”
“May.”
“And you’re having dinner with him.”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“It’s business.”
“No, business is sending an email.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“This is different.”
“Exactly.”
He picked up his coffee.
She pointed the knife toward it.
He stopped.
“Did you just threaten my coffee?”
“I’m making a point.”
“You’re holding a knife.”
“For onions.”
“Very aggressive onions.”
Norah put it down.
“Take Enzo.”
“Enzo will be nearby.”
“Nearby means what?”
“Nearby.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Norah stared.
Vincent sighed.
“No one has ordered me around this much since my grandmother.”
“Maybe she stopped too soon.”
There it was again.
That impossible normality.
The world outside this kitchen knew Vincent Rossy as a man whose decisions could alter entire neighborhoods.
Here, Norah Bennett argued with him about eating toast.
And somehow he liked this room better than any place he owned.
Vincent looked at her.
“You’re staying here tonight.”
“That sounds suspiciously like an order.”
“It is.”
“I have an apartment.”
“You also have someone searching your belongings.”
Her expression changed.
Vincent softened his tone.
“Until this is over.”
“My brother too?”
“Yes.”
Norah nodded.
“Fine.”
Then added, “Still bossy.”
Vincent smiled.
That evening, Julian Mercer arrived at seven.
He was sixty-four, elegant, gray-haired, and carried himself with the relaxed confidence of a man who believed every room already belonged to him.
He hugged Vincent.
Vincent let him.
“You look better.”
“I feel better.”
“I heard.”
Julian smiled toward Norah.
“And this must be the reason.”
Norah felt a chill.
Vincent introduced them.
Julian kissed her hand.
Old-fashioned.
Charming.
She disliked him immediately.
They ate in the private dining room.
Norah had prepared the meal.
Roast chicken.
Potatoes.
Green beans.
Nothing elaborate.
Julian looked amused.
“This is what finally brought your appetite back?”
Vincent took a bite.
“Apparently.”
“After all those chefs.”
“Turns out money complicates food.”
Julian smiled.
“I hope that philosophy doesn’t spread to other areas.”
Vincent watched him.
“Why?”
“You’ve always had expensive tastes.”
“Not lately.”
Norah entered to refill water.
Julian looked at her.
“How long have you been with the family?”
“I’m an employee.”
“Everyone says that at first.”
Norah’s hand paused.
Vincent’s eyes sharpened.
Julian smiled.
“Forgive an old man.”
Norah left.
Vincent leaned back.
“What did you want to discuss?”
“Your recovery.”
“You scheduled dinner to ask whether I feel better?”
“I worry.”
“How touching.”
Julian’s smile faded slightly.
“You’ve changed.”
“Near death does that.”
For the first time, Julian’s eyes gave something away.
Not guilt.
Something closer to irritation.
Vincent filed it away.
“Rafael betrayed you,” Julian said.
“So everyone tells me.”
“You doubt it?”
“I doubt everything.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It keeps me alive.”
Julian looked toward Vincent’s plate.
“You’re eating.”
“I am.”
“How much have you gained?”
“Seven pounds.”
Julian nodded.
“Good.”
The word sounded correct.
The emotion behind it did not.
Vincent pushed slightly.
“I’m reopening the port negotiations.”
Julian’s fork stopped for less than a second.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you planned to wait until January.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“I’m stronger.”
Julian smiled again.
“Of course.”
There.
Vincent saw it.
A problem.
His recovery interfered with something.
Dinner ended politely.
Too politely.
Julian hugged him again.
At the door he whispered, “Your father would be proud.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Would he?”
Julian left.
Enzo emerged from the security room.
“Anything?”
“He doesn’t want me recovering.”
“That’s not proof.”
“No.”
Vincent looked upstairs.
“But it’s enough to continue.”
He found Norah in the kitchen washing dishes.
“You have staff for that.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“My brain is loud.”
Vincent leaned against the counter.
“Mine too.”
Norah glanced toward him.
“How was dinner?”
“Terrible.”
“You ate everything.”
“I meant the company.”
She smiled.
Vincent stepped closer.
“Your instincts were right.”
“About Julian?”
“He knows something.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he looked disappointed when I told him I’m getting stronger.”
Norah’s smile disappeared.
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“Be careful.”
He looked at her.
The words were simple.
But nobody had said them to him that way in years.
People said stay safe because their salaries depended on him.
Because the organization depended on him.
Because his survival protected their positions.
Norah said it because she wanted him alive.
Vincent realized this.
And that realization was more frightening than Julian Mercer.
“Norah.”
She turned fully.
For a moment, he nearly said something reckless.
Instead:
“Tomorrow I want pancakes.”
She stared.
Then laughed.
“Coward.”
Vincent smiled.
Perhaps.
Later that night, Norah could not sleep.
The guest room was too quiet.
At 1:17 a.m., she walked downstairs for water.
She heard voices near Vincent’s office.
Julian’s voice.
Impossible.
He had left hours ago.
Norah approached silently.
The office door was slightly open.
Inside, Martin Vale stood beside the desk.
Not Julian.
He was speaking on the phone.
Norah could not hear everything.
Only fragments.
“…he’s eating again…”
“…Mercer wants it handled…”
Then:
“The girl is the problem.”
Norah stopped breathing.
Martin continued.
“If she goes, Rossy goes back to starving.”
Norah backed away.
The floor creaked.
Martin stopped speaking.
Silence.
May you like
Then the office door began to open.
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