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He turns his sharp eyes on me. Oops. Yeah. That part of the plan.
“You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Timothy.” His voice is deceptively casual, and my insides freeze over. I know I’m supposed to be a spy, or whatever. But I don’t want to share my conversations with Tim. I know it might be my job, and my job iseverythingto me. I mean, like I said, Bill is like a father to me. But Ican’t. Iwon’t. What Tim told me, he told me in confidence, not so that I’d go running back to Bill.
“He’s very kind,” I hedge. Bill steeples his fingers, surveying me over the top of them. I fight the urge to squirm. That would be a giveaway that there might be something Bill would be interested in knowing.
“You like him.”
It’s not a question. It’s a statement, and I attempt nonchalance as I shrug.
“Like I said, he’s very kind. We’ve mainly talked about horse riding and Paris and things like that.”
“He’s happy with his position in the company?” Bill quirks a brow and I squirm. Shit. I’m not doing a very good job at my task. It never even occurred to me to ask him that. I cast my mind around as Bill watches me expectantly. Crap.
“He says that even if he had the choice to live anywhere on earth that he chose, he’d still chose San Diego,” I reply lightly, feeling absolutely miserable. I can tell that’s a lie. But Tim doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth, which hurts a lot more than it should.
“We’ll pick this up later,” Bill sighs, waving to signal that I’m dismissed. I start with surprise. Shit.Crap. I need to ask Tim something I won’t mind sharing with Bill. He’s clearly unhappy with the job I’m doing. I’ve never let him down before. I’m not about to start now.
As I stand, shoving my phone into the pocket of my jeans, Bill reaches for his own, lying on the desk between us. It’s lit up with a message notification. Ah. Maybe I’m not being dismissed because I have proved singularly useless at this task I have been set. Maybe he wants privacy to read his message.
I’m pretty sure that he’s seeing someone, but he’s been a little cagey about it. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it soon enough. Probably when he wants me to buy a Christmas present or order her flowers or jewelry. Bill is rather old-fashioned in his courting techniques. It’s kind of adorable.
Keeping in mind he probably wants to read the message immediately, I quickly tidy away all the papers, and move out of the study. As I close the door quietly behind me, Bill picks up his phone and smirks at whatever he sees there.
“Anica,” he murmurs before I move away. “We shall see.”
There is only one way to go from Bill’s office, which is toward the entrance hall and the shrieks and giggles, growing louder the closer I get.
Stepping out of the wood paneled hall into the flagged stone entrance hall, my eyes find the women immediately. They’re drunk.Verydrunk. They are taking turns sliding down the banister of the main staircase. All the while, they are loudly and out of tune, singing a song from Mary Poppins. Which makes sense, I suppose, given the banister sliding.
Before I can suggest they find another pastime, it’s like everything happens in slow motion. Jane, one of the housekeeping staff, has come out of the passageway through from the laundry, her arms full of fresh linen. With all the snow that we’ve had over the last three days, she no doubt intends for everyone to have toasty warm sheets tonight. Lovely.
Except that, right as she rounds the bottom of the ornate seventeenth-century wooden staircase, Tiffany comes drunkenly sliding down the banister, her legs flailing as she shrieks and Sarah’s corresponding screaming giggles sound out from the top of the stairs. Oh, God.
Jane is about three steps up when Tiffany hurtles into view, and there’s just not enough time for her to duck, or weave out of the way, oranything. My breath sucks in as Tiffany’s legs hit Jane with a horriblethumpand she topples, white linen flying and fluttering everywhere as her arms cartwheel, and she falls back down the three stairs. Jane twists as she falls, so she doesn’t hit the flagged stone floor with the back of her head, but with her left hand.
A sickeningcrunchsounds out as Jane’s wrist snaps, followed by anotherthumpas Tiffany hits the ground near Jane and groans. For one terrible moment, there is complete silence, following by Tiffany and Sarah’s screams, which echo and ring through the foyer.
Well, that’s not helping anyone. Besides, Jane is the one who should be screaming, but she’s not. She’s sitting in shock, her eyes wide and her breathing coming out in past pants.
There is a veritable stampede of footsteps as the five men in the drawing room come hurrying out, and Bill comes running from his study. Five drunk men and Bill will be utterly useless in this situation. I need to take charge. Bill is phenomenal at many things. Empire building, and all that. But, offering comfort to an injured woman isn’t one of them. He’d likely start yelling and ordering people around, which isn’t what Jane needs right now.
With that in mind, I ignore all of them, including Sarah, who is tugging Tiffany to her feet. I’m across the room and on my knees, helping Jane sit up and cradling her broken wrist in front of her. I reach for her arm, keeping my voice low and soothing.
“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you to the hospital, and they’ll have that fixed and plastered before you know it.”
Jane nods, her lower lip quivering as Bill’s sharp, authoritative tone rings out. “Gladys, call an ambulance.”
Gladys must have arrived during all the commotion as well. She makes the phone call, her voice eerily loud in the otherwise silent hall, punctuated only by Jane’s quiet sobs and pain filled breathing. I murmur meaningless words and rub her back, hovering over her as the eyes of nine people burn into us. The only other sound to break the silent are two hesitant footsteps before Bill’s voice rings out again.
“Everyone stay back. Give them some space,” he orders, and the footsteps halt immediately.
A siren sounds, and it’s getting closer. Thank goodness. I don’t know how to splint a broken wrist. There is a knock, and Gladys quickly opens it, ushering the paramedics through the front door. I climb off my knees as they crouch in front of Jane. I’m not much help now they’re here, so I stand near the front door, turning back as I’m addressed by the paramedic.
“What happened?”
“Um, Tiffany and Sarah were sliding down the bannisters. Jane didn’t realize and was walking up with the bed linen when Tiffany hit her, and she fell. She put her hand out to break the fall and her wrist just snapped.”
I fall silent, the paramedic nodding and turning back to Jane as Bill rumbles his displeasure, casting angry glares at a subdued Tiffany and Sarah, who are clinging to their respective boyfriends. As the paramedics help Jane stand, Bill looks absolutely furious, and both Ryan and Maxwell disengage themselves and step away from the two women. I think my “mission” here just got aloteasier. I only wish Jane didn’t have to be injured for Bill to get his desire to run the women off.
