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“Will I need my team?”
“No—just you.”
“Anything about her I need to be aware of?”
“She’s currently heavily medicated, so she shouldn’t be too difficult to deal with. You’re welcome to forcefully sedate her if you wish. Otherwise, generally, I would describe her as unpredictable, manipulative, and I suspect she may have sociopathic tendencies. She’ll know how to get on your good side if she needs to. Frankly, you might find her perfectly likeable, Nadine.”
Nadine shrugs. “She sounds like a peach.”
“A peach full of razor blades, maybe.” I turn back to Nadine on my way out. “Which reminds me, Nadine. She has a knife.”
“Delightful,” says Nadine.
And isn’t Willow Lynch just that.
17
Grifting Nadine
Willow
I wake up feelinglike I’ve been clinically dead for the past three years. My head is a scrambled mess, my brain a handful of mash. My entire body aches and burns, and I’m so groggy I can’t even open my eyes for the first few minutes.
When I finally manage to open my eyes, I find myself in a starkly decorated room, and it takes me a moment to realise I’m in Luca’s guest bedroom. Outside, the sky is a dim grey wall. I can’t even tell if it’s early in the morning or late in the afternoon. The sun could be rising or falling or simply have stopped existing for all I know.
I roll out of the bed and crawl to the bathroom for the longest, sorest piss of my life. Everything feels too hot and too fragile and too sharp. And I’m hungry, so hungry my stomach hurts. I can’tfind any of my clothes, so I leave the room in my underwear with a grey throw wrapped around me like a cloak.
Downstairs, the TV is on, and a figure sits on the couch, legs crossed. I can tell it’s not Luca because I’ve never seen him once look relaxed or sit like a normal person.
As I draw closer, the figure turns, and I find myself facing a woman with light brown skin and short dark hair dip-dyed to an ashy blonde. She’s older than me, dressed in a black pant suit and a white tank top, a thin gold chain around her neck. She’s pretty hot, actually.
I immediately edge closer. “Are you his wife or something?”
The woman rolls her eyes. Very sassy. I like her
“I’m Nadine. Mr Fletcher-Lowe’s head of security.”
“His head of security is awoman,” I say. Nadine is tall and, although not buff, she fills her clothes nicely, and she has a confidence about her that makes me want to crawl onto her lap and ask her to cradle me like a tiny baby. “Here was I, assuming Luca Fletcher-Lowe is just another gross misogynist.”
“His disdain of others is rarely motivated by gender,” Nadine says with a shrug. “Having a pulse is usually more than enough to qualify as a waste of breath as far as he’s concerned.”
“Should you be chatting shit about your boss like this?” I ask.
I sit myself down right next to her on the couch, my leg against hers. So far, she seems unbothered by my proximity. She probably thinks I’m not a threat, and to be fair, I am far from my best self right now. I don’t blame her for assuming I’m pathetically weak.
Ifeelpathetically weak.
“I’m not saying anything about Mr Fletcher-Lowe he wouldn’t say himself.”
“No, of course. So do you two, you know.” I make a circle with the thumb and index of my left hand and jab my right index through repeatedly.
Nadine blinks slowly. “Those drugs have hit you hard, huh?”
“You know he drugged meunwillingly, right?”
She smirks. “Probably because he wanted you to shut up, and that’s not something you willingly do, it looks like.”
“Funny. But I didn’t hear you say no, Nadine.” I lean closer and peer at her face. She’s pretty sexy, with hazel eyes and a hawkish nose. “You look like you could be his type. A muscle mummy to hold him down and make him feel like a naughty boy.”
