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“I truly hate my family,” Rachel complained before heading to her office.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When they got back to Rachel’s apartment building, there was a package waiting for them at the concierge’s desk.
“Did you order something?” Harvard asked as he reached around her and took the small brown padded envelope from the doorman, being careful to touch only its corners.
“Not that I remember,” Rachel said coolly, but the look in her eye told him she was thinking the same as him—the blackmailer had sent it.
Harvard checked both sides of the envelope. “It only has your name on it. No address. No return information.” He looked at the waiting doorman. “Who dropped it off?”
“A courier company.” The man pulled a notepad toward him. “Atlantic Couriers.” He ripped off the top sheet of paper and handed it to Harvard. “The phone number’s on there. Ms. Ford-Talbot has never received a package without a return address, so I thought it best to note down all the details of the delivery. Just in case.”
Harvard was impressed. “Good thinking.”
The man merely nodded. “We have several wealthy, high-profile residents in this building. Security’s good, thanks to your company, but it doesn’t cover deliveries. That’s why I never send anything up to the apartments unless I’m sure about it.”
Harvard hoped to hell this guy was being paid well because, in that one sentence, he’d proved he was worth every cent.
“Thank you, Jeremiah,” Rachel said. “As usual, I very much appreciate your vigilance.”
They nodded to the concierge, then headed for the elevator.
As the doors closed behind them, Harvard said, “I hope he gets a hefty bonus come Christmas.”
“Jeremiah’s very well paid. And yes, he gets several bonuses a year. If one wants good staff, one must treat them well.”
“Yes.” He grinned. “One must.”
She glanced down at the envelope. “You think it’s from the blackmailer, don’t you?” If she was worried, it didn’t show.
“Yeah,” Harvard said as they stepped out into her hallway. “Which means they know where you live.”
“Anyone with access to TayFor’s personnel files would know where I live.”
In other words, it didn’t mean the blackmailer was someone close to her.
Once securely inside her apartment, Harvard put the envelope on the dining table before sending texts to Ryan, Elle, and Harry. “I’ve asked the team to come straight over. We’ll wait until they get here before we open this.”
He looked up from his phone to find Rachel staring at the envelope. She’d taken off her jacket and had her arms folded over the severe, black form-fitting dress she’d chosen for work that day.
“I’d rather not wait.” Her dark eyes captured his, communicating far more than the unemotional tone of her voice. Telling him just how wary she really was. “If there are more photos in there, I’d rather deal with seeing them without my colleagues watching me.”
Harvard ran a hand over the dome of his head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
She stared at him for a long minute before she said just one word, “Please.”
He hung his head, knowing there was no way he’d refuse her this. “Okay. I need scissors or a knife and a pair of latex gloves.”
“Why on earth would I have latex gloves lying around?”
Yeah, for a second, he’d forgotten who he was dealing with. “You’ve got kitchen scissors though, right?”
“How would I know?” She threw her hands in the air as if exasperated by his very normal questions. “You’re the one who cooks. I can tell you where the bottle opener is, but I don’t remember seeing scissors.”
With a shake of his head, he strode to the knife block by the vast built-in cutting board. Sure enough, there were scissors. He held them up.
Rachel looked unimpressed. “My interior designer bought that block, along with everything else in the kitchen. I’ve never used it.”
