Chapter 34 – cat #2
Let me clear a few things up. There isn’t a manipulative bone in Nate Walsh’s body.
He’s never hidden exactly what he is: a grump, a perfectionist, a workaholic, and a ruthless negotiator.
He’s also kind, generous, and honorable to his core.
He spoke up for me and protected me when a former coworker actually harassed me at work.
He looked out for my safety and security, even before I became his employee or his friend.
He saw a woman being cornered in an elevator by a predator, and he made sure that man couldn’t hurt me.
He didn’t try to make me fall for him. That happened all on its own, because the more time I spent with him, the more I respected and admired him. And yes, he’s gorgeous. That doesn’t hurt.
You say he manipulated me, but doesn’t my free will matter? Don’t I get to make choices about who I care about and who I want in my life? I know what I want, and I don’t need your approval, or anyone else's.
So please stop printing lies about a good man.
Cat
I press send before I can second guess myself. I could spend hours agonizing about saying everything right, but it’s better to speak from the heart. Besides, if she’s working on yet another article, I’d rather stop now.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
That’s the computer in Nate’s office. It’s been chiming incessantly since I got home. I should really go mute it.
No, actually. I should go check the emails myself.
I’m still Nate’s assistant, and I technically have access to his inbox and calendar.
While he deals with the fallout from our relationship, the least I can do is help him manage the rest of his work.
Besides, I’m feeling energized after writing that email to Peppermint.
I don’t have to just sit here while the world happens around me—I get to have a say, too.
I leave my mug in the kitchen sink, immediately feeling better. Now, I can be helpful. Useful. More than just a burden.
Flicking on the lights in Nate’s office, I settle into his chair and wiggle the mouse. Immediately, his three monitors light up. His email is open on one screen, and on the others—
What the fuck??
The center screen is full of surveillance videos.
Most of them show different views of my apartment from the outside.
I can see the waiting paparazzi huddled together in groups, chatting or checking their phones.
Goosebumps rise on my arms, even though I’m in a cozy sweater.
Watching my building from the outside feels weird, even a little creepy.
I have no idea why Nate would be watching this. Maybe he just tapped into some cameras to keep an eye on the reporters, so he’d know when it’s safe for me to leave his apartment and go home. UPS might be the security provider for my neighbors, and that’s how he could see this.
Except Nate hasn’t been on this computer all day. He dropped me off, then went straight to the office downstairs. These must have been open since before we left for Paris. Maybe he accessed his desktop remotely somehow?
Watching the reporters creeps me out, so I minimize the videos quickly. Behind them, I see a few saved files on his desktop. Most of them are labeled with names of UPS Deals, but one of them catches my eye.
FlowersCat.IMG.
Why is there a file with my name on his desktop?
There’s a lump in my throat I can’t explain. For all I know, it’s something harmless—a receipt from the time he sent me flowers. A picture of me from Thanksgiving, when we had all the flowers on the table. I remember Ryan taking some, making a big deal about having “family photos.”
I should just leave it alone. I’m already invading Nate’s privacy as it is. I only came here to help with his emails, since I don’t have my own work laptop with me. Opening his files is snooping.
But I can’t shake the feeling that this file is important.
I swallow and open the file. It’s not a picture—it’s a video.
A video of me.
I don’t know how long ago it was taken, but I’m not wearing a jacket, so it must have been before it started to really cool off in the fall and we’re hedging into winter now. I’m standing outside my favorite florist, looking at their display. I watch as I lean down to smell the peony tulips.
Guess I know how Nate found out my favorite flowers.
It’s obvious he’s been watching me. But why?
I know he can be intense—okay, overbearing—about making sure I’m safe.
Maybe that’s why he’s watching all those cameras.
Just to keep an eye on me and make sure nothing happens.
It’s way inappropriate and stomps on my boundaries, but maybe he has good intentions.
That doesn’t make it any less wrong, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything…right?
My fingers shake as I open the Finder window and type in my name. I hesitate before I press enter. A thousand thoughts crowd my mind, all of them whispering, bad, bad, bad. I don’t know what bothers me more—the guilt over invading Nate’s privacy, or the fear of what I’ll find.
I just know I can’t go any further without knowing the truth.
I press search, and a mix of files comes up—some just routine UPS paperwork, others saved videos like the one of me smelling the flowers. One of them shows Harry cornering me by the Terrace staff entrance, the day before I met Nate in the elevator.
Maybe that’s when all this started. Nate knew I was being harassed, and he looked for footage to back up my story.
Or am I just lying to myself, looking for any excuse to let him off the hook?
Then, I see a folder with a name that makes my blood run cold.
Patrick Daniels.
My father.
Why the fuck does Nate have a file on him?
Anger, confusion, and fear jockey for prominence in my mind. I can’t come up with a single innocent reason Nate would look up Dad. Whatever’s in this folder, it’s bad.
So do I open it?
For years, Dad has lived in the back of my mind, a ghost haunting my days and my dreams. I can only bear the memory of what I said to him by pretending. Pretending that he’s out there somewhere, struggling, but alive.
Am I really ready for that illusion to possibly come crashing down?
What if I’m about to find out that he’s really gone?
Before I can decide, footsteps echo down the hall. When I look up, Nate’s standing in the doorway, staring right at me.