Chapter 15
German Ninja Gratitude
T he knock on Ottilie’s door was far too early. She groaned and rolled over to look at the clock. Eight?
Well, she’d been up all hours, but still. She pulled on a robe and went to the door, checking the peephole first. “Ms. Carson,” she said uncertainly after opening the door. “What a surprise. And so early.”
“We’re not back to this surname nonsense, are we?”
“I didn’t want to assume.”
Monique lifted a jar. “I bring gifts. And grateful thanks.”
“Grafschafter Goldsaft?” Ottilie peered at the label. “How did you get any brand of Zuckerrübensirup in the US? And what thanks are owed?”
“Let me put some toast on, and we can talk.” She lifted a bag that appeared to hold fresh bakery bread.
“All right. You do that. I’ll have a shower and get dressed.”
Ten minutes later, Ottilie stepped out onto the balcony, feeling marginally better, and settled into the chair beside Monique. “To what do I owe the privilege?”
“I had the most astonishing visitor early this morning.” Monique tilted her head as if to study her closely. “Pop star Carrie Jordan.”
“Really?” Ottilie frowned. “What did that appalling woman want?”
“Well, for a start, she looked entirely bedraggled. Her hair wasn’t dried or styled. She was looking thoroughly wretched for America’s sweetheart.”
“Guilty conscience, perhaps?” Ottilie asked, selecting a slice of toast and buttering it. “For attacking and degrading you?”
“She apologized over and over. Offered monetary compensation too.”
“How surprising,” Ottilie said, reaching for the German spread.
“I was so stunned. I asked what had brought this change of heart.”
“Was she perhaps visited by the ghosts of Christmas past?”
“Close. She asked me to call off my ninja.”
“You have a ninja?” Ottilie took a bite. Oh, it was heavenly. “I’d forgotten how much I love this. Thank you.”
“Specifically, my German ninja woman .” Monique regarded her with fondness. “Good God, Ottilie, what did you do to her?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Seriously, where did you find this?”
“I ordered it on eBay the first morning you said you liked it. It arrived yesterday. And, Ottilie,” Monique said with a headshake, “I don’t know any other German women, let alone ones with some form of ninja-like training in their past. Was there…actual fighting involved?”
“So she didn’t say what this ninja did?”
“She did not.” Monique smiled. “But I get the impression it was bad enough to have her regretting a great many life choices.”
“Ah.” Satisfaction filled her. “Good.”
“And on a related note, I also can’t help but notice everyone’s talking about her concert last night. It was a complete mess. She had a meltdown about it on stage.”
“How…unfortunate for her.”
“You really won’t tell me what you did? Or, rather, her ninja did?”
Ottilie dabbed her lips with a napkin, then took a sip of tea. “Well, to speculate, it sounds like her ninja made sure she got a taste of her own medicine. And, possibly, left her with the fear of getting more should she ever hurt you or anyone else in your line of business ever again.”
“A taste of her own…” Monique gave her a scandalized look. “Ottilie, did you by any chance pee on America’s sweetheart?”
“Heavens, no!” Ottilie said, shocked. “How…uncivilized.”
“Oh.”
“You know urine can be poured on someone’s head from a bottle if required.” Ottilie waited a beat. “But not their own urine. One should never leave a DNA trail. Amateur mistake.” She tsked. “Although I strongly suspect Carrie Jordan will not be investigating anything or anyone regarding this incident.”
Monique’s mouth creased into a smile. “Thank you.”
“I’m not sure why you’re thanking me.”
“Ottilie,” Monique said in exasperation. “Must we?”
“We must.”
“Fine. Why did my ninja protector do it?”
Ottilie finished her toast before answering. “Why do you think?”
“I’d say perhaps she’s had a lifetime of watching injustice and not being allowed to stop it.”
“That’s very noble sounding.” Ottilie cocked her head. She smiled. “I find that highly unlikely.”
“Then what’s your theory?” Monique’s eyes crinkled.
“Maybe your ninja thought it was the least that singer deserved. Especially after finding some terrible photos on her phone of other traumatized women. But it was more than that. Said ninja probably despised the fact that a good woman had been humiliated. Enacting revenge might have been something your protector was only too pleased to do.” Ottilie met her eye. “As for me? I hate she did that to you. I had to listen to her attack you. I heard your fear and shock. It was…distressing.” Ottilie looked down, worried she’d said too much.
Because, it turned out, Monique mattered to her. Ottilie had only realized how much the moment she’d heard her scream. By the time Monique had later gotten drunk and was crying in Ottilie’s embrace, Ottilie knew she would have committed murder for her. Worse, she still wasn’t entirely sure if that was hyperbole.
Monique asked carefully, “Are you saying you’d have done this if you’d heard her hurt anyone ? Or was it because it was me?”
Ottilie’s lips pursed. “I greatly dislike anyone who goes after someone vulnerable. I’m disturbed by the fact she attempted to hurt you because she had power over you. I know how that feels.” She ground her jaw at the reminder of Kensington’s disturbing actions. “ And I was particularly offended she attacked you, specifically. Because the list of people I find acceptable is rather short.” Ottilie met her eye and admitted the truth. “Monique, I do not want you hurt. Never that.”
Inhaling, Monique said in obvious relief, “Thank you. I know we—well, broke up doesn’t seem the right word, since we weren’t dating—but let’s say had a parting . It means a great deal to me that you were there for me. I know a lot of people wouldn’t have been. But it also confuses me. Knowing who you are, where you worked…and yet…” She hesitated.
Finally, Ottilie said, “What do you wish to know?”
“I just want to understand. I’m not judging, not this time, but I really want to get my head around it.”
“Ask.”
“Why did you work for them ?”
“The position offered was in my wheelhouse of specialty skills. I was there when the company began. The original mission statement wasn’t just to”—Ottilie glanced unseeingly at the view—“help the entitled. Originally, it was providing expert services to anyone who wanted it. Back then, the company was well run, sleek, and simple. Its first CEO was competent, and the jobs untroubling.”
“What changed?”
“Over time, the CEOs the board selected turned the organization into something darker. It became an entitled, rich boys’ playground. The focus was on power games and moneymaking. Since the first CEO, there was only one decent CEO out of all of them—the woman I told you about. Hannah’s granddaughter, Michelle.”
“Wait, the good CEO is the granddaughter of your elderly dancer friend? The same woman who fell in love with a protester?”
“Yes. She was the one CEO I didn’t need to constantly steer away from being terrible. Oh, she was uncontrollable in other ways—do not start me on her sudden need to make The Fixers appear to be a force for good to the woman she was falling for. But that’s another story.”
“All those other bad CEOs—you did influence them, though?”
“At times. When I decided it warranted intervention.”
“So not always.”
“No.”
“Were all the jobs evil?”
“Evil is a relative term. Occasionally The Fixers did do good. Just not very often. It’s hard to do good when you cater to the whims of people like Carrie Jordan: whatever they want, they get. They’re used to it. Such individuals rarely want anything selfless.”
“How do you reconcile with that?”
“I made my peace with my job years ago. When I understood, with some disappointment, the direction in which the company was going, I focused on what I was doing. I made my department efficient and as close to flawless as I could.”
“Efficient at doing bad things,” Monique murmured.
“Efficient is efficient.” Ottilie said. “The act of efficiency is not morally nuanced.”
“Please tell me you didn’t just sit back in that immoral company and make sure the paperwork was filed perfectly?”
“I did do that.”
Visible disappointment washed over Monique’s face.
Ottilie exhaled. “But I did rein in some awful plans from time to time. So they became less awful.” She brushed crumbs off her lap. “But there were some schemes I knew were bad, and I still let them slide to the CEO simply because I was curious to see what they would do with them.”
“Why?”
“It would tell me who they were as a person.”
“And if they’d green-lit them, then what?”
Ottilie shrugged. “Then I’d have known whom I was dealing with.”
“But you were willing to leave the approval of these projects to someone else to decide? What if they’d chosen to go ahead?”
“Then I’d have stepped in.”
“But not every time.” Monique drew in a harsh breath. “What about cancer drugs not going to poor people thanks to The Fixers?”
“Ah, that one. I did fight that particular case. I lost. The pharmaceutical manager who hired us was about to be rich as sin, and our CEO wanted in. He bought shares right before the Fixers’s job went ahead.”
“You fought that,” Monique repeated, relief flooding her face.
“That particular case, yes. Generally, some things were not for me to interfere with. Many times I chose a tactical retreat so as not to tip my hand.”
Monique seemed to turn that over. “You were ensuring no one knew how many strings you were really pulling?”
“Something along those lines.”
“I don’t know what to make of any of this.”
“And I’m not sure why I shared any of this.” Ottilie paused, feeling truly disturbed. “I’ve carried the secret of where I work for years and, more importantly, how I work. And you just ask…”
“Technically you didn’t share it with me. I guessed.” Monique fidgeted. “I’m struggling to weigh this with the woman I know.”
“I understand,” Ottilie said. She’d expected this, of course. Monique wouldn’t want someone like her, and that was hardly a shock, all things considered.
Wait, do I want her to want me?
She’d never been more confused by the question, or the answer, which seemed so obvious. She did enjoy Monique looking at her with a great deal of…affection. Interest. As though Ottilie were someone she never wanted to be without.
“You’re the woman who did something incredible for me last night.” Monique broke into her thoughts. “And who worked…there. For them.” She looked helplessly at Ottilie.
So she was still conflicted? That was a surprise.
Ottilie drew in a breath. “My friend Hannah says there’s something you should probably know.”
Monique looked up, eyes hopeful.
“I’m the one who brought down The Fixers.”
“What?”
“In case that matters to you.”
Monique’s eyes grew wide. “Of course it matters!” She blinked at her. “ You were the leak?”
“I was the source of every file you see out in the media. I recorded each one myself, and I gave them to someone to pass on to the journalist Catherine Ayers.”
Monique shook her head. “How on earth could you leave something so vital out?”
“Is it vital?” Ottilie peered at her. “I didn’t think it would make much difference. I have been doing some ethically dubious things for years. One day, I stopped doing them and released the information to the world. Does the latter erase the former to you? I didn’t think it would. But Hannah takes a different view.”
“Oh, it matters,” Monique said hotly. “It matters a whole lot to me.”
“How perplexing.” Ottilie reached for her tea, just to have something to do with her hands. “But I’m glad you think so.”
“Oh, I do.” Monique rolled her eyes, seemingly at herself. “I’m sorry. Really.”
“For?”
“Thinking the worst. I should have believed my own eyes. I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you’re far from heartless. I know you hide your feelings, pretend you’re always doing the practical option, but you continually make choices that disadvantage yourself to help others.”
“Well.” Ottilie’s heart hammered. That sounded perilously close to Hannah’s view. “For God’s sake, do not tell anyone that.”
Monique chuckled. “All right. May I point out that you didn’t have to help me last night but you did?”
“Or some German ninja did.”
“Don’t.” Monique rose and briefly touched Ottilie’s shoulder. “I’m going to go now, reflect a little.”
“Ah.” Ottilie knew what that was code for. It’s not you, it’s me. There would be a breakup text within the hour. Well, not a breakup text—they weren’t a couple. But words to that effect. She found that thought depressing. “Well, thank you for breakfast.”
Monique paused, one foot pivoted toward the door, and locked her gaze with Ottilie’s. “Have dinner with me? Tonight?”
“Oh?” Wait, so Monique didn’t wish to end their association? How unexpected. It was most…gratifying.
“We’ll talk some more,” Monique said. “I know just the restaurant downstairs. It’s one of Vegas’s finest. Would you like that?”
Ottilie decided not to analyze her immediate interest in the idea. “Yes, I would.”
“Ottilie,” Monique said, “I meant that as a date.”
Right . “I understand.”
“I mean,” Monique said quickly, “I don’t even know if you’re even remotely interested in me like that, or women as a whole—that ex of yours might have put you off dating women for life—so this was perhaps a bold but pointless move.”
“You are a brave one,” Ottilie said, “I’ll give you that.”
“Is that a yes?”
Ottilie focused on her cup in front of her. “When my last loose end is tied up, I’ll be gone. It could be only a matter of days. I’m not sure, but it’s such a short time.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“I suppose it wasn’t.” Ottilie looked up.
“So, if it wasn’t a no, doesn’t that mean you find me attractive?” Monique’s eyes crinkled. “Finally?”
“I said I’d let you know if that happens,” Ottilie replied, amused. “But I will say this: I thought about you when I saw Carrie Jordan naked a few hours ago.”
“How surprising. I mean, despite her awful faults, Carrie is a very attractive woman.”
“No she’s not,” Ottilie said with a frown. “She’s just flesh and pinkness and tight skin and sullen pouts. I find poodles more appealing. And I do not find poodles appealing.”
“Her twenty million fans might disagree.”
“I don’t see it. But you?” Ottilie’s tone turned faintly mischievous, “You have potential.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Monique predicted with a grin.
“So you say.” Ottilie smiled at her enthusiasm. “We’ll see. But I’m rather surprised you’d still want to date me, even knowing where I worked. What I did.”
“Your friend Hannah was right.” Monique pushed her hands into her pant pockets. “You destroyed that terrible organization. Maybe lead with that next time.”
“All right.” Ottilie’s lips twitched up. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“So, back to my question. Dinner— romantic dinner —with me, tonight?”
It suddenly felt important to grab onto this fleeting opportunity: a place of acceptance and warmth and friendship. Ottilie found herself wanting to lean into it as though it were a physical thing.
“Tonight,” she replied. “I’d enjoy that.”