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She blinked, confusion still written on her face. She tucked some hair behind her ear. “Right. Our home is a confidential space. Maybe we should have talked about this before. But you don’t have to worry about anything you tell me leaving these four walls.”
I nodded, mildly relieved. That protected this space at least. But what about things I’d told her elsewhere? I raked through my memories for the hundredth time, trying to remember anything salacious or unsavory I might have told her during the interview process.
But there was nothing.
“I lost my job today,” I said quietly. “The Fairchild brothers let me go because they suspect I’m connected to the latest article thatBig Apple Magpublished about them.”
Kendra’s brows knit together. I could see the gears turning behind her blue eyes. “I saw that article today. The one about the secret family?”
“Yeah.”
“A senior editor worked on that. I heard he had an informant.” Kendra narrowed her eyes, her gaze drifting off as she thought. “I can talk to him tomorrow and see what I can find out, if you want me to.”
I nodded, looking down at the tissue in my hand. “I would appreciate that. Thanks, Kendra.”
She jerked her chin toward the kitchen. “Wanna have some tea? I’ve got some crazy gingko stuff I’ve been dying to try out. Supposed to make your brain work better. I’m down for whatever might help, you know?”
I smiled briefly, drawing a cleansing breath. Maybe some better brain function would help me get out of this mess. Or at least help me discern the next steps. “Yeah. That would be nice.”
I sat on the cracked leather couch that faced the kitchenette, tucking my legs underneath me as she moved around the kitchen—filling the kettle, turning on the stove, finding mugs. It was nice to have someone else here. Especially now that I’d be spending a lot more time here, struggling to figure out my next move.
“For what it’s worth,” Kendra said a few moments later, long after we’d both sunk into our own thoughts. “I saw someone from Fairchild at our office recently. I don’t know his name…”
“Oh?” I swung my head to look at her. “What did he look like?”
“A bigger guy. I saw him in the office yesterday when I came to pick up the key. He wore a Gucci suit. And he set my gaydar pinging, for what it’s worth.”
My mouth went dry.Francis. It had to be. But I couldn’t know for sure.
“Are you sure it was him?” A strange nervousness pinged through me.
“I thought it was. Who knows. Coulda been his doppelganger. In a city this size, it’s possible. And he was staring at a tablet the first time I saw him.”
Maybe it hadn’t been him. But the mere idea of Francis heading toBig Apple Maghad my palms itching and curiosity swarming.
It felt like a lightbulb moment, but I had no idea what to do with the insight. I didn’t even have proof, much less a messenger bag full of evidence. Damian would need proof.Data.
“So.” Kendra brought out two steaming mugs, setting them on the rickety coffee table in front of the couch. “Let’s hear about this day from hell.”
“Well, I didn’t just lose my job,” I told her. “I also lost Damian.”
“What do you mean?” She cradled her mug, bringing it to her lips for a sip. “Ouch. Too hot. Don’t try it.”
“I sure won’t.” I looked down at the steaming green liquid.
“Your accent is so nice,” Kendra said.
“I have an accent?”
“Well, yeah. A Kentucky accent. Didn’t you know?”
“I don’t notice it, obviously.” I laughed.
“Do the Fairchilds have one too?”
I shook my head. “Nah, they sorta lost theirs. They’ve been living here a long time. Damian’s comes out when he gets drunk though.” I paused, thinking back on all those late-night conversations we’d had when I still thought we’d be able to keep things mostly-chaste. Back when it was just phone sex and my fashion portfolio. Damian’s lilt had always presented itself then, just like it did at the tail end of fundraisers and galas, after a healthy handful of drinks.
Sadness streaked through my heart. Had I missed something with Damian? Was he drinking a lot more than I’d ever realized?
