Chapter Eleven #2
Is she okay? Did she get into an accident on the way? Is Chad harassing her to get his ring back?
Suddenly my phone buzzes with a text.
–Unknown: Your assistant doesn’t seem to be doing very well. But don’t worry, I’m watching out for her. And you’re welcome. One of these days, I’d love to meet you in person. Have a civilized conversation. Talk about things that would benefit both of us.
What the…? Who is this? Not Mom or Harvey, because they would’ve made sure I knew it was them, especially when they’re acting like they’re doing me a favor by taking care of Klein.
But then who?
Vincent? But it’s not his MO. He likes to make a statement, the kind you don’t forget. A low-key, unsigned note just isn’t his style.
I open the attached photo to see if it provides any clues. The shot’s grainy and slightly out of focus with a dark night sky—obviously taken from far away with a phone, not a camera with a decent lens. Weird. Mom or Harvey would definitely would’ve used a pro. Same for Vincent.
A lot of people in the frame, but I spot Klein with ease. It’s impossible to miss the platinum curls. She’s in nothing but a T-shirt and shorts, her arms wrapped around herself. In front of her is a burning building. Firefighters bustle around, water spewing from multiple hoses aimed at the fire.
I narrow my eyes. When was this taken?
I’m watching out for her.
It’s something Mom or Harvey might say, but nothing else adds up to it being one of them. When did this happen? Anxiety spreads through me like acid. Surely this can’t be from today…
But Klein is late—
My phone vibrates in my hand.
–Klein: Hi, boss. I’m so sorry for the short notice, but I don’t think I can come in today. Amélie can probably cover for me for one day. I think I should be able to come back tomorrow, but I’ll let you know for sure by noon.
My mouth dries. She isn’t providing any details, but the photo can’t be ignored. Mom didn’t just drug me and my brothers. She also left Ares to burn in a forest fire. If Lareina hadn’t found him back then and rescued him, he would’ve died.
Don’t jump to conclusions. Klein could’ve caught something. Or maybe she just overslept. Things happen.
–Me: That’s fine. What’s wrong?
–Klein: My apartment building burned down.
I stare at the phone. My hands start to tremble. I clench them into fists, swallow the ball of panic suddenly swelling in my throat. Klein doesn’t need me to lose control. She needs me to be cool-headed and fix the problem.
I call her immediately.
“Hello?” Her voice is shaky and slightly hoarse, like she’s been smoking a pack a day for the past year, or spent the night screaming at a concert.
My money’s on smoke inhalation. When Ares was rescued from the wildfire and finally regained consciousness, he sounded awful from breathing in too much smoke.
“You sound terrible.”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, really.” Suddenly she has a fit of coughing. It goes on for at least a minute.
“Where are you?” I ask, after she finally regains control. “Did you go to a hospital? Are you injured?”
“Oh no, that wasn’t necessary. It’s just a minor burn.”
I lean forward. “A minor burn? Where?” I hate that she keeps downplaying what happened.
Reminds me too much of Ares, who always acts like his experience in the cabin and fire was no big deal.
It was a big fucking deal—big enough that it made him unable to form any sort of relationship with a woman because he couldn’t bear being touched without feeling suffocated, until he met Lareina.
He never shared what happened, but Mom must’ve abused him in ways I can’t even imagine.
You’re the most like me.
The words slither in my mind like vipers. I grind my teeth.
“On my arm,” Klein says with a soft sigh.
I get an instant visual of a long, ugly burn scar covering most of her arm. I shudder, my belly twisting into a torturous knot. Ares had some burn injuries. They were nasty, red and oozing as blisters formed over seared flesh. Took a while for them to heal, and the scars remain.
“But it really isn’t too bad,” Klein rasps.
“Right.” I don’t believe you. “You really don’t sound good.”
“It’s just the shock. I don’t think I inhaled much smoke. I managed to get out pretty quickly.” She lets out a wheezing sound.
The muscles in my jaw tighten. “Klein, go to the hospital.”
“But there are so many people more seriously injured than I am. Mrs. Choi didn’t get out until an hour after I did.”
Good God, Klein isn’t listening. She isn’t going to go because she doesn’t think she merits getting checked out, not when others might need to be prioritized.
Probably because her family is horrible.
The kind of people who asked her to join them at a restaurant where she couldn’t eat and then sided with total strangers.
They’ve done a number on her self-esteem—to the point she doesn’t think her injuries are worth being looked at.
“Send me your location,” I say as I gather my fob and start to head out of the office.
“What? Why?”
“Because you need somebody to make sure you’re all right. Don’t do anything, and don’t go anywhere. Wait for me.”
“But what about your morning appointments?”
If I could, I’d reach into the phone and shake some sense into her. “Who cares? Amélie can cancel them.”
She gasps. “But you can’t just cancel them. Ryder Reed is coming to see you!”
He’s one of the hottest stars in Hollywood, and one of my best clients because he loves to consult me on all sorts of things—and unlike Ted, he actually listens to good advice. “So? He can reschedule.”
“But—”
“Klein, don’t argue. It’s nonnegotiable.”