Number Six (The Villains #3)

Chapter 10

Toast and Gratitude

T he next morning, Monique rose at her usual time—dawn—and checked the international stock markets, satisfied herself that her company was holding steady. She completed a short but concentrated workout in the hotel gym, and then returned for an indulgent, long shower.

After donning her hotel-issue white robe, she went to sit on her balcony with her black coffee and bowl of granola. (One could never underestimate the power of good fiber.)

What she found, taped to her side of the frosted-glass divider, was a note. Even if Ottilie wasn’t the only person who could have placed it there, Monique would have guessed anyway from the exacting penmanship.

Good morning. I did not wish to wake you with a text message in case you like to sleep in. But when you are awake, would you consider joining me for breakfast? Just knock, if so.

Of course she would agree. Ottilie was about the most interesting person in her life right now and never ceased to surprise her. With her bowl and coffee mug, she sauntered next door, knocking with her elbow.

Ottilie answered after a few moments, took one look at her in her robe and slippers—which was quite literally all Monique wore—and merely hiked an eyebrow. “Come in. I was just making some toast.”

Today Ottilie wore a deep crimson dress with three-quarter sleeves and a hint of bust. It hugged her fuller form in delicious ways.

As Monique passed the open door to Ottilie’s bathroom, she spied a vast array of creams and anti-aging concoctions. Was this Ottilie’s secret to her younger looks? For someone who talked of retirement often, she hardly looked close to it.

Ottilie led her through to the main room.

How neatly everything was laid out. A small pile of books and papers were perfectly aligned on a coffee table.

“This is like a display room,” Monique said, impressed. The bed was crisply made, hospital corners and all, even though it was well before Housekeeping was due. “Are you sure you’re even staying here?”

“I like things ordered,” Ottilie said, tone brisk.

“There is no duvet on your bed.” She glanced around and spotted it folded in one corner.

“If you ever want to lose your lunch, look at one under a UV light. They’re filthy things, stained with fluids, that never get washed enough. Even in the world’s best hotels, it’s always the same.”

“Do you often examine things under a UV light, darling?” Monique asked in surprise.

Ottilie regarded her evenly. “No comment.” She smiled. “Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks,” Monique said. “I brought my breakfast. I’m all set.”

“Make yourself at home on the balcony. I’ll join you shortly.”

Actually, Monique would have dearly loved to linger inside and see what the papers and books were that had Ottilie’s attention but instead headed for the balcony.

She settled in the resin wicker chair and resumed working her way through her granola as she enjoyed the view.

The sight today was startling blue skies in the upper atmosphere, with a cream dusty haze closer to the city, creating a soft-focus effect at odds with the garish burst of vibrant colors below.

MGM’s enormous amber letters were directly in her eyeline. To the right and below, the swirling top tip of the Big Apple Coaster from the New York-New York Hotel it just made me sad. Not to mention, wary in the future. Far more cautious.”

It sounded like a special-op…spies dating spies, perhaps? Didn’t that confirm Ottilie was ex-CIA? Especially if her boss knew the waitress’s real identity?

“It’s of no matter,” Ottilie said dismissively. “I dealt with it and moved on. Many years later I even employed her. She’s extremely good at what she does, even if I didn’t like it possibly being done to me.”

Monique’s opened her mouth. “That’s…well… incredibly pragmatic of you.”

“It is who I am. Goal oriented.” She glanced at Monique. “What of you? Are you about to tell me that your list of conquests is as long as your arm?”

“Not at all. For some reason, the fact I have sex with a woman or two a day is a turnoff for my romantic prospects. Even those who claim to be fine with it, saying they understand it’s just work and not personal , before long, are asking how long I intend to keep doing my job and wouldn’t I be happier focusing on investments?”

“So they’re not fine with it,” Ottilie scoffed.

“No. I never lie to my dates. They know on the first meeting what I do and what that entails. So far, the only ones who have been fine with it I wouldn’t want to date. They seem a little too…” She rubbed her eyes. “It’s not about being with me at all, but the idea of me. They’re dating the expert paid to have sex with strangers . They get off on it. It’s a kink to them.”

“So you attract everyone except whom you want. That is unfortunate.”

Heart beating faster, Monique asked, “Don’t you find it a turnoff too?”

“What?” Ottilie looked baffled. “Why would I? I don’t care in the least what anyone does as long as they’re not hurting someone.” Her lips pressed together. “Although I’m well aware how absurd that comment is coming from me. I’ve worked for decades in a job that hurts people.” She scowled. “Damn it. I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“I’d already guessed that,” Monique said. “The CIA is many things, but harmless isn’t one of them. I suppose you could justify it being for national security. That’d be one way to sleep at night.”

There was a long silence.

“My last job did not involve national security,” Ottilie finally admitted. “And I still found a way to sleep at night.” She cocked her head. “Does that make me a terrible person?”

“I don’t know.” Monique studied her in disquiet. “Did you enjoy hurting other people?”

“Of course not!”

“Did you hurt people on purpose?”

Another pause. “Sometimes.” Then, “More often than not.”

Monique stared at her, appalled. “Really?”

“It was usually a side effect of the main goal. But, yes, hurt was inflicted, often deliberately.” Ottilie exhaled. “And not that I’d admit this to anyone else, but, secretly, I spent a fair bit of time trying to steer the more unethical impulses of my company’s board and the various CEOs into less harmful waters. I even succeeded at times.”

“But those times you didn’t win, you…what? Just went along with it?”

“We were rarely harming good people.” Ottilie’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and she sighed. “And I know I’m rationalizing it. I always have. I told myself if I wasn’t doing my job, it might be someone else who was less evolved and more ruthless, who wouldn’t care about the fallout at all.”

A bad taste filled Monique’s mouth.

Ottilie studied her. “Now you see why I don’t judge the choices you make. Our jobs are not nice every single assignment, are they? It simply is what it is. And I had a certain satisfaction with my work—when I broke it down to its core element and focused on that.”

“Its core element?”

“I was a personal assistant of such efficiency that I would defy anyone to manage a CEO’s office better.”

“And that’s how you slept at night.” Monique couldn’t keep the slight edge out of her tone.

Ottilie clearly noticed it because her lips pressed into a line. She met Monique’s gaze evenly and said, “Yes. That is how.”

Monique sagged a little. “At least you’re retired. Or very close to it.”

“I’ve been counting down the days now for three years.”

“That sounds as though you didn’t like working there.”

“I was deeply invested in it initially, but, as time went on, I disapproved of its new direction. I thought the board made mistake after mistake, letting their egos dictate decisions. When I particularly hated something that was planned, I would take action. Subtly. On one occasion, I even succeeded in having an out-of-control CEO removed. He was not pleased.”

“You had that much power?”

“Officially?” Ottilie mused. “Officially, I had almost none.”

“Then you had more power than anyone knew?”

Ottilie blinked and then stiffened. “I assure you I will disappear once I’m done in Vegas,” she said, tone razor-sharp. “No one will ever find me, in case you think I need investigating by someone official.”

“That never entered my head,” Monique said truthfully. “I’m not your judge or jury, Ottilie. I don’t even know your last name. I’m just a woman asking questions about someone I find intriguing. But your job, the power plays, and so on, does explain a lot.”

“Oh?”

“How you reshape who you are constantly. How you become invisible around other people. Why you’re a chameleon.”

“Force of habit.”

“I’m guessing that habit came from your former CIA training?”

Ottilie tsked. “You’ve already had enough secrets out of me.”

“Have I? I know only that you worked for a company that hurt people. I can tell you from my investment job that that’s at least twenty percent of the Fortune 500 companies right there. Screwing over people is, sadly, not rare in business. Profits are all that matter. So, no, I have no idea where you worked or who you are or anything else.”

Ottilie seemed to relax marginally. “You have a golden tongue when it suits you.”

“Practice,” Monique teased. “My tongue is very skilled.”

“Don’t.” Ottilie scowled. “I was almost appreciating you until then.”

“You were?” Monique smiled at the admission. “Let’s change the subject, then. Will you tell me about your time in Beirut?”

“Why?”

“I just can’t picture you as a children’s tutor.”

“Tell me why you have no friends other than Cleo, and maybe I’ll answer you.”

Monique opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“Not so easy, is it?” Ottilie noted. “We all have our secrets. Let’s leave it there.”

We all have our secrets. Even so, Monique really wanted to know. Wanted to finally understand who Ottilie was beyond her chameleon disguise, impenetrable walls, and morally ambiguous career.

Monique pressed her hands into her eyes briefly. “I don’t like to talk about my past; it’s not you. I hardly even talk about it with Cleo, and she already knows all there is to know. And yet I still want to know about your past. I’m aware that makes me a hypocrite.”

“You and everyone else,” Ottilie said evenly. “I wouldn’t worry. Humans are a mass of contradictions.”

“We are.” Monique considered that. Ottilie seemed to be a prime example. Ottilie appreciated the happy ending for her CEO and her justice warrior lover. And she’d stood up for Mrs. Menzies when her aggressive husband had confronted her at work. So Ottilie could be romantic and fearless.

And yet she’d worked for years for an organization that harmed others. And she did it by focusing only on being an efficient personal assistant?

“I can sense you struggling,” Ottilie said. “Trying to work out what to do. Whether you’re going to walk away from me or not.”

“How do you feel about that?” Monique asked. “That I’m having a crisis over you?”

“Surprised you care so much.”

“I mean, how do you feel that I see you as so morally confusing and contradictory that I’m in a quandary over it? I find it hard to get my head around someone who freely admits working somewhere that deliberately inflicts harm.”

“Understandable.”

“And?”

“Well, if you’re asking how I survived such an uncomfortable environment, I tried to focus on my own tasks and not get too caught up in toxic deeds or distracting emotions.”

“How can you disengage emotions? They’re part of who we are.”

“By concentrating on the things I can do and putting aside everything else. I could shape the opinions of various CEOs from time to time, even if I was only an assistant.”

“Only an assistant.” Monique scoffed. “You’ve already admitted you had way more power than that.”

“It’s a perception thing. From the CEOs’ point of view, that’s who I was.”

“That’s who you were to them . But who are you ?”

Ottilie started and looked down.

“Do you even know the answer?”

“Why do you wish to know me?” Ottilie pinned her gaze back on Monique. “I’ll be gone soon.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Nor I you,” Ottilie admitted.

“You might be the calmest person I’ve ever known. Among the smartest. The most pragmatic, certainly.”

“These traits have served me well.”

“Do you care?” That was the bottom line, wasn’t it?

“About?”

“That bad things happened to those people on your watch?”

“Yes and no.”

Monique’s stomach tightened even more.

“If I cared too much, I couldn’t have done my job. If I didn’t care at all, I wouldn’t have put the brakes on the worst excesses. I didn’t care quite as much as the CEO who ran off with her justice warrior. I did care considerably more than that CEO’s predecessor, and her successor, come to think of it. Two particularly odious humans—psychopaths, the pair of them—but what can you do?”

What can you do? Monique turned that over. Ottilie had been walking a fine line. Was she a force for good in a small way, preventing worse things from happening in her workplace? Or was her blasé attitude just a cover for complete indifference?

Monique was torn between intrigue and distaste.

Ottilie regarded her, expression a mix between bland and slightly curious. “Did you reach a decision yet? As to whether you wish to run from me or not?”

“Would you care if I did?”

Ottilie fell silent. Then, “Ordinarily, no.”

“But?”

“I’d like it if you didn’t. Although I’m aware you probably should.”

“Why would you want me to stay?” Monique asked in surprise.

“I think, at the end of the day, I find you interesting too.”

Yesterday, that answer would have excited Monique. Today, it just added to the confusion. She rose. “I appreciate your honesty. I have a lot to think about. Perhaps it’d be best if we didn’t have breakfast together tomorrow, though.”

“Because you’re still deciding what you think about me.”

“Yes. That. And you’re distracting. I can’t fully work things out when you’re beside me, being all…”

“What?”

“Compelling. Alluring. Fascinating.”

Ottilie’s smirk was tiny but there. “Are you overdue an eye test, Ms. Carson? I assure you I’m none of these things.”

Monique laughed in spite of all her reservations. “So you keep telling everyone. But, Ottilie? That doesn’t work on me.”