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“What the fuck,” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. “Is that—her?”
I nod. “Willow Lynch. She’s a bartender from Greenleigh.”
“A bartender?” says Nadine.
“Greenleigh, sir,” Woodrow murmurs in a tone of reproach, as if it’s somehow my fault.
Nadine draws closer into the room, peering at Willow, who’s flushed as an overripe peach and frowning and muttering in her sleep. “What’s wrong with her?”
I answer frankly. “She’s got a fever and an infected leg wound.”
Nadine turns to look at me. “Are we…” She pauses, as if trying to figure out the more professional way of phrasing her question. “Liable?”
It’s her way of asking me: didyoufuck her up?
“Cerberus bit her leg as she was trying to escape her apartment the day I found her. I had a doctor see to her injuries. The fever is from being in the rain last night and a slight infection in her wound.”
“What if—” Nadine stops mid-sentence, wipes her hand over her face. Unlike Woodrow, she’s making no attempt to hide how appalled and horrified she is. “What if she goes to the police?”
“Or worse—the media.” Woodrow shakes his head. “Themedia, sir!” he repeats for emphasis.
“She won’t go to the police or the media. She’s signed a contract which is currently with our lawyers.”
“NDA?” Nadine says.
“Among other terms, yes.”
Nadine sighs in relief, but Woodrow turns to glare at Willow.
“You should get rid of her. Sooner rather than later, sir. She’s bad news.”
“Doesn’t the adage advise keeping your enemies close, Woodrow?”
Woodrow’s lips narrow. “Notthatclose.”
“She’ll be living here with me.” I rip the metaphorical plaster clean off. “For a while—until I get bored of her, I suppose. She’ll be appearing at functions as my girlfriend.”
“A bartender from Greenleigh?” Woodrow says. “What will the media say? Yourparents?”
“I’m not an adolescent, Ned. I don’t need my parents to approve of my girlfriend, fake or not. As for the media, those leeches would have something to say if I was dating the queen of England herself.”
“The queen of England is dead,” Woodrow reminds me with great dignity.
“If they could accuse me of treason and necrophilia, they would.”
Woodrow’s mouth drops open, but I ignore him, turning to Nadine instead.
“Ned is right. Sheisbad news and fairly dangerous. I have her virtually shackled by the contract, but I still wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. I want her movements tracked, I want additional security around the house, and I want the staff to be warned about her. That’s everyone: cleaners, drivers, security. Once a month, I will be playing a…” I wave a hand. “Gamewith her. Think of it as a sex game of sorts. When that happens, I want all staff off the property—the dogs too. I’ll have a panic button for you, Nadine, in case things take a dark turn, but I only want you to intervene if I trigger the panic button.”
If Nadine and Woodrow have opinions about anything I’ve just said, they remain stringently professional and say nothing. Nadine nods and takes a note of what I’m saying, tapping on her phone.
“Now, Nadine, the reason I’ve called you here today is that I have Novus business to attend to, so I’ll be in London today and tomorrow.”
Nadine raises an eyebrow.
“Woodrow will be with me, and the staff will come as usual to maintain the property. While I’m gone, I would like you to stick around and make sure our guest is recovering well and staying out of trouble. You’ll be remunerated accordingly, as always, of course.”
Nadine nods and glances over at Willow.
