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"The rooms Elaine readied are this way." He says, gesturing down the hall.
Rhea's eyes narrow on him in suspicion. "On your side of the house?"
Remy laughs. "It's all my house. But yes, my room is down there too. If you prefer the view from over there, I can ask Elaine to fix up two rooms on that side instead."
"No." Rhea waves a dismissive hand. "Elaine's done enough already."
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind changing the sheets."
"It's fine.” Rhea sighs, clearly not thrilled with the settlement. “But I'm telling you right now, I don't want to hear your whores moaning in the middle of the night, so set up in another room or something."
"Don't worry." Remy grins, opening the first door to a large room with gauzy curtains covering the length of sliding glass doors. "The walls are fairly soundproof."
"My old room." Rhea looks around with a wistful smile and then dives straight on top of the bed and buries her face in a fluffy white comforter so that when she speaks, her words are muffled. "Oh, the nostalgia."
"Your name is still carved into the floor under the bed." Remy assures her. "I considered replacing it, but Elaine argued that it was a testament of the times."
"It is a testament." She agrees. "To teenage angst. I'm glad you didn't replace the floorboards, Rem."
"I'm glad Father didn't kill you when he saw it." Remy chuckles. "Claire, Elaine has set you up just next door. Your room has a private bath, but the shower is across the hall, next to the study."
He accompanies me to the next door, and I open it to a room that is similar to Rhea's with the same sheer curtains covering the balcony doors. The walls are a cheerful yellow that bounces the light around the room. It smells like fresh laundry and the ocean. Though I've never been further from home, it feels just right.
"Don't hesitate to ring Elaine if you need anything." He gestures to the tablet propped up on the dresser. "And I will be just down the hall... if you need anything."
I’m not sure if I imagine the inuendo or if he’s simply being his unapologetically flirtatious self. My mouth is dry either way, and I’m sure my cheeks are giving me away. "I think I'll be fine."
Remy nods the slightest bit, but the smile still hasn't left the corner of his pouty lips. "I don't doubt it."
Chapter fourteen
Remy
I want to fall down on my bed and let the world fade away. I could truly relax for the first time in my adult life. My father is gone. My sister is safe in the halls of my own home, and so is her dear friend, which means nobody can try to prey upon Rhea's good nature. I can breathe easier knowing they're close, but that doesn't mean that I can rest. There’s still too much work to be done to keep my family safe.
"Jack." I say into my phone when the other line clicks as if someone has answered it. There is a brief pause before Jack answers. He probably wonders why I’m calling him myself, given that he’s already been in touch with Jovich the last day.
"What can I do for you, Boudreaux?"
"Claire Monroe.” Just saying her name sends a fire through my veins that I don’t understand. I don’t know what it is about her, honestly, but she’s managed to consume me in what little time I’ve known her. Not to mention, I know she is hiding something. I have always loved a good mystery, and the girl staying in the room next to mine is a mystery if ever I’ve seen one.
“Your sister’s friend?” Jack puzzles. “The little blonde?”
I don’t grace him with a reply to that question. He knows exactly who I mean. “She's a college student at Darrington. I want to know anything and everything. Where does she come from? Does she have a criminal record? How is she paying her tuition and rent? I want everything you can find on her. Do you understand?"
"I'll get it all, right down to her childhood imaginary friends," Jack says confidently. "But you want to tell me what this is all about? She’s never caused any trouble in town."
"Just covering my bases." I pull up the tablet Jovich left on my bed and scroll through the photos he loaded. "It's high priority, though."
"Okay,” he says. “I'll be in touch."
I set my phone down and sink into the tall-backed chair by the window, continuing to scroll through the photos.
Johnathan Boudreaux had been a busy and well-known man. He was also outspoken and quick to anger, not the kind to make many genuine friendships. He had contacts all over the globe; His clients were among the wealthiest, most influential people in the world, which meant that the list of people who would stab him in the back was much longer than the list of his most devout friends. I knew my father was brazen even when we were younger and he'd had a family that he had to worry about, but as time wore on and our mother died, Johnathan got more and more cutthroat. He had nothing to lose. He'd told me as much, no less than a dozen times.
I tried not to let it bother me. Our relationship had always been strained, as far as I could recall. My father held nothing back and had made it clear on more than one occasion just how much of a disappointment I was. I'd learned to accept it, but what I couldn't ever come to terms with is the fact that he was willing to gamble with Rhea's life.
Unlike me, Rhea has never been a disappointment. She is kind and clever and, the thing my father prized most, obedient. She is a firecracker and feisty, but not obstinate or reckless like me. We don't have the perfect family, but Rhea was always our father's favorite. Which is why, when Johnathan started making promises he had no intention of keeping and gambling with more than he could afford to lose, I was disappointed. I knew my father was willing to take a chance with his own life, and truly, I hadn't cared enough to stop him. I cleaned up what messes I could and did my part to maintain the Boudreaux name, but I hadn't stopped him from walking on the edge.
