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He smiled, slow and shark-like. “Before you say that again, think carefully.”
Something cold crawled through her stomach. “What are you getting at?”
Mason leaned against the desk, the easy charm slipping. “Let’s just say I overheard the mayor earlier. Heard some pretty bad news about your little grant situation. Sounds like you’re in a tight spot.”
Amy said nothing, pulse hammering.
He slid a yellow sticky note from his pocket, scribbled a number, and placed it between them. Twenty thousand. With the doubled episode payment, it was more than she needed to finish the renovations and cover start-up costs.
“That’s your bonus if you help us finish this scene,” he said. “Do the widow’s walk. We’ll make it look incredible—storm, wide shots, the full enchilada. We’ll edit it so you won’t be recognized. You’ll be paid before the end of the month.”
“And if I don’t?”
Mason shrugged. “Maybe the internet starts speculating about your little midnight strolls. You wouldn’t want that ‘unhinged owner of the murder mansion’ headline floating around, would you? Not an impressive look for a wellness-retreat owner.”
Amy forced herself to stay still, every muscle rigid. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“I’m offering you a way to make everything work out nicely.” He stood and plastered his smile back in place, though his eyes gleamed with coldness. “It’s a win-win for both of us. The network will go nuts. My ratings stay high, so I get a hefty paycheck and a renewed contract. You get the money you need to finish this project, and you won’t have to ask your rich brother-in-law for help.”
Shock gripped her. He’d been observing more than she realized. She wondered if he’d gone through her office at night after she and Sully had left everything in the hands of his producer. Right now, she wouldn’t put it past him. He was a snake underneath all that charm.
He shut the laptop with a soft click, tucked it under his arm, and headed for the door. “I’ll check in with you in the morning. Let me know what you decide. Sounds like tomorrow night will be perfect, with the storm forecasts.”
The latch clicked shut behind him.
Amy sat there for a long time without moving, just staring at the sticky note. The number blurred as her eyes filled with tears. She thought of the lost grant, the half-finished rooms, the workers counting on their paychecks, her savings dripping away behind every invoice. Failure hung close over her head.
She should call someone. Tell someone. Kelsey. Sully. Her lawyer. Matt—they had warned her against this.
And yet, what would she say? That she had been sleepwalking under the cameras of her own haunted house? That she was, as Mason said…
Unhinged.
Her throat tightened. She brushed at her eyes, then stood abruptly. She already knew what her answer would be.
Chapter 27
By late morning, the briny wind had picked up. The clouds hung low, bruised purple over the bay.
Sully pulled his truck into the gravel lot beside the mansion, killed the engine, and just sat for a moment. He told himself he was here for work as usual. But in truth, he just wanted to see her.
It scared him a little, how badly.
The tether between them had tightened without him meaning it to. A few hours apart and he already felt off-balance, like some part of him had been left behind.
He climbed out, nodding toward the work crew as they battled the rising wind to tarp the scaffolding. Diego waved him over from beside the generator.
“Hey, boss.” Diego’s hair whipped across his forehead. “Ms. York’s not around today.”
Sully frowned. “Not around?”
“Went home an hour ago. Headache—she said to let you know.” Diego hesitated, glancing toward the house. “But she looked upset. I saw the mayor come by earlier, then that Mason guy. Both had meetings with her. After that, she looked… well… upset.”
Sully’s stomach tightened. “Did she say anything?”
“Nah.” Diego shrugged. “Just packed up and told us to keep steady with the storm prep.”
Sully muttered a curse under his breath and jogged back to his truck.
