He had seenme.
A quiet unease settled in my chest. There was something about Winston Donovan, something I’d never had to face before. My own feelings.
They’d taken me by surprise, creeping in slowly and then rushing in all at once, leaving me breathless and unnerved. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for him—this was supposed to be just another job, another mark. But with Winston, it was different. His warmth, his intensity, the way he looked at me as if he could see right through the walls I’d built ... It scared me, and I hated that.
There was no place for feelings in my game. Feelings make women messy. Careless. And then heartbroken.
When he pulled up in front of my house, he didn’t seem to notice Jack, who leaned against a tree across the street, making absolutely noeffort to be inconspicuous. I didn’t miss the stunned expression on the man’s face when he recognized Winston.
When the Jeep’s engine cut out, I turned to Winston and smiled. “Thank you for a wonderful tour.”
I wished I could see through those dark lenses. For a long moment, he just looked at me, a faint smile fluttering on his lips. Then he took my hand to his lips and whispered, “It’s your turn now, Olivia. Show me what makesyouhappy.”
District Attorney Mitchell:In what capacity did you interact with the defendant?
Kevin Murphy:I drove her to the DMV one day—the one on Sahara Avenue. I’m a cab driver.
District Attorney Mitchell:Did you notice anything unusual in her behavior?
Kevin Murphy:She was constantly looking to see if someone was following her. She had me drive up the Strip for a while, to make sure. Only then she told me to take her to the DMV. She got pissed off in a second when I offered to take her to another DMV than the one she wanted. Short fuse on that one.
Defense Attorney Blake:Objection! Improper character evidence, Your Honor.
Judge Thomas Antunez:Overruled.
14
The Colorado River
“I’m here to see Winston Donovan, please,” I said, keeping my voice even.
The assistant barely masked her disapproval, her gaze flicking over me like I was something she had just scraped off her designer heel. Her perfectly manicured fingers paused over the keyboard, as if debating whether I was worth the effort.
I resisted the urge to shift under her scrutiny, lifting my chin instead. Let her judge. I wasn’t going anywhere.
It was my first visit to Winston’s corporate office on Howard Hughes Parkway. The casual demeanors and ambience I’d seen at the solar plant were replaced here by business-formal mannerisms and opulent sophistication. I could tell I was severely underdressed for the occasion, wearing shorts and a moisture-wicking tank top over my one-piece swimsuit. Everyone in the stylish office building wore business suits—men with neckties, and women with high-heeled black pumps and light-colored shirts in crisp linen or smooth silk.
I didn’t care. I wasn’t there for a meeting, and I wasn’t trying to blend in. If anyone noticed me, so much the better—they’d know exactly whose attention I already had.
The assistant was dressed sharply in a white suit and a light-gray blouse. About forty-five, she had short salt-and-pepper hair, almost military-style. I felt myself withering under her gaze.
“Mr. Donovan is in a meeting with the Department of Energy. Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” I admitted, shifting my eyes for a split second. I’d been tempted to make one, but at the same time, I wanted to know where I stood. If I was important enough for him yet. “Could you please call or text him to let him know Olivia Taylor is here?”
“Ah, Ms. Taylor,” she replied, as if she’d heard my name before. Her demeanor instantly changing, she picked up her phone and speed-dialed a number. Then she whispered quietly, “I have Ms. Taylor for you.” A beat. “No, she’s here.” She ended the call and smiled professionally, but her eyes stayed cold, inquisitive. Judging me. “He’ll be right out. Please take a seat.”
I thanked her with a nod, but continued to stand, looking out the window to hide a smile. He’d been waiting for me. He’d given his staffspecial instructionsabout me.
A couple of minutes later, Winston appeared, walking briskly toward me in a charcoal suit and white shirt, perfectly paired with a tie in gray metallic hues.
His eyes lit up when they met mine. “Ms. Taylor, let’s step into my office, shall we?” As he held the door open for me, he asked, “Do we have time for coffee?”
It was as if he could read my mind. “No, we don’t,” I replied. This wasn’t the first time he’d guessed my intentions.
“Hold my calls, Rose.”
“Yes, sir.” Her reply faded as the office door closed behind us.
