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Leaning over the counter to put myself eyelevel with Mabel, snatching her attention with a serious yet—hopefully—gentle expression. “Mabel,” I say as softly as I can manage. “I understand that you’ve been through a lot, and I understand that you will be wary of people, including me, and I know that Harvey and Lee…” I jerk my head toward the two men before continuing, “may look intimidating, but you have my word that they will not hurt you. No one here will hurt you. I promise that you’re safe here.” I try to hammer home my point until it ingrains itself into her nervous system.
Harvey pulls round a stool and sits down opposite the girls, resting his hands on the counter in front of him. “Hi,” he says gently. “My name is Javier Campos, but my friends call me Harvey, I’m hoping you will be included in that.” He smiles and looks at each of them. “I was a police officer for about twenty years until I recently came to work for Miss Wolfe.”
Lee steps forward and crouches slightly to bring his massive frame to the girls’ eye level and places his hands on the counter, too, giving them a wide and bright smile. “Hi, we didn’t meet last night, but Miss White.” He nods toward Guinevere. “Told me about you. My name is Lee and I’ve worked for Miss Wolfe in one way or another since I was sixteen years old. I’m a certified security expert, and my job is to keep this house as safe as possible for Miss Wolfe and anyone in it. That includes you.”
Mabel eyes both men with uncertainty, deliberating whether to trust them.
“I will do everything I can to make sure you feel comfortable and safe in my home,” I continue. “But there are a lot of people coming in and out of the house and a lot of them are men. Men who may look intimidating to you, but I can assure you they will not touch you. You’re safe.”
Mabel scrutinises me with narrowed eyes, thinking hard. “Are you a prostitute?” She asks the question with curiosity, not judgement.
Lee jerks back, audibly gasping that anyone would askmesuch a thing, but Harvey barks out a laugh. My own lips tilt up involuntarily. I’ve been called a whore by many a man I’ve pissed off in one way or another, but I’m not sure anyone has ever believed it to be my profession.
“No,” I answer, trying to keep my smile in check. “Though I’m flattered you think I could afford all this.” I gesture around the general lushness of my kitchen. “From those skills alone.”
“Jeeshrainha, she’s just a kid,” Harvey mutters.
But I ignore him because she’s not just a kid, she’s a young woman far wiser to this world than one of her age should be. She’s seen enough, been through enough to be treated as an adult. So that’s what I shall do.
Mabel gives the first smile I’ve seen from her. It’s small and somewhat rusty, but it’s there and it gives me this warm sensation in the centre of my chest. Heartburn? That doesn’t seem right.
“I like your smile,” Keeley says quietly, looking at me with eyes wide and nervous, like she’s afraid of her own voice.
It takes me aback, not just because she spoke, but because I don’t think I’ve ever had such a compliment. “Thank you.”
She nods with a small smile as if congratulating herself on a successful interaction and that feeling in my chest becomes too much. I stand, clearing my throat and looking to Miss White who seems to be watching our interaction with an amused hopefulness that I don’t fully understand.
“Can you please stay with the girls today?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says with a kind smile. “We’ll find some way to entertain ourselves, won’t we?” she says to the girls. Neither of them answer, just look back at her unsure what to say. I nodonce and leave before I do something stupid like offer to spend the day with two children who I have no business getting to know. They can’t stay.
I successfully avoid the girls all day, apart from when they both brought me lunch on Guinevere’s orders. They were clearly unsure about wandering around unaccompanied to find my study, but they delivered the plate of salad with apple and walnuts as requested and scurried away again without unnecessary interaction. Harvey has been milling around all day too. I told him to go home but he hasn’t and for some reason, I haven’t pushed the matter. I can avoid him from the safety of my office too.
Now it’s later in the evening. I know Guinevere and the girls are in the living room watching a movie on some streaming service that Guinevere asked my permission to subscribe to for our new house guests. Of course I agreed, how else am I supposed to entertain children? I worked alone in my study today trying hard to concentrate on my usual stream of emails and paperwork, but my mind has been completely fogged up by a rising anger. Those girls have been held captive. They’ve been abused. Starved. Sold. Someone needs to pay.
Swimming isn’t going to cut it tonight, I don’t need peace, I need to expel some of this bubbling energy, so I head to the gym. Wearing my powder blue yoga leggings and matching sports bra, I carefully wrap my knuckles in tape, a methodical process I enjoy. The calm before the storm. Once I’m happy that I’m well enough protected, I start jabbing my fist into the hangingpunching bag. I’m alone in the gym, none of my staff daring to use the facilities while I’m here and with no music playing, my knuckles hitting the leather mixed with my grunts is the only sound.
I text Stuart earlier and asked him to come by the house tonight when he’s got time and now I’m pissed that I’m having to draw him away from his wife when she needs him. I should let Harvey help me on this, but can I trust him? I slam my fist into the bag again before spinning to kick my leg into it with a cry of frustration. Planting my hands on my hips, I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my panting and the hammering of my heart that was only partly due to the exertion. I don’t trust Harvey completely, but in my heart of hearts, I know that he would do all he could to help the girls currently watching some princess movie in my living room. I know he’s as mad about this as I am. I know he’ll do all he can to bring the bastards responsible to justice. I just hope his idea of justice aligns with mine on this.
I pick up my workout again, hitting the bag hard and fast, relieving myself of as much tension as I can. The door to the gym opens and I turn to see Harvey strolling in, towel in hand and a drinks bottle to his lips. He pauses when he sees me and gives me a slow and assessing once over before a wide and brilliant smile takes over his face. I hate the pulsating sensation I get in my clit from the sight.
“This is where you’ve been hiding?” he says, putting his towel and a pile of clean clothes down in the corner.
“I do not hide,” I snap, punching the bag again. “Whose clothes are you stealing now?”
He’s unperturbed by my tone, chuckling slightly. “Murray has been very generous.”
“If you went home, he wouldn’t have to be so generous.” I grunt as I pummel my fists into the bag some more.
“I will go home when I’m happy with the safety of those girls and you,” he says a lot more seriously and my rage bubbles.
“Why wouldn’t those girls be safe with me,detective?” I turn to face him, my chest heaving and sweat trickling over my skin. “You think I would hurt them?”
He comes to stand in front of me, his brows knitted together. “No. But I don’t know everyone here yet and it would be foolish and lazy of me to assume that I can trust all the people you have coming and going from this place. And you cannot be trusted with your own safety, that has been made abundantly clear.”
I seethe, my nostrils flaring, my eyes blazing, and it seems to amuse him as a slight smirk pulls at his lips. “How dare you—”
“—Now, now,” he says, stepping forward and letting that smirk break free completely. “You can hardly argue with that,rainha. You followed two henchmen into a secluded hallway.”
