Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Adrien
“Exactly what was leaked? I need to know.”
The man on the phone isn’t worried about corporate secrets; for that matter, none of the calls I’ve received today have been concerns regarding business matters.
Everyone calling me is worried about exposure of their private proclivities.
This particular man is in his early seventies and married almost fifty years ago, before prenuptial agreements were commonplace.
He hasn’t said it, but I’m sure he’s concerned his wife will walk with half of everything.
Although at his age, the arithmetic is odd; even halved, his fortune will outlive him by decades.
“I’m being straight up with you. I don’t know. I discovered the leak and have stopped it. All five locations will be closed while I do a thorough review to safeguard members’ privacy.”
“Going forward, you mean. Whatever has happened in the past may very well fuck us.”
That’s one way of putting it. Brie enters my office quietly, her eyes soft with concern.
“If it helps, I don’t believe there’s any reason information about you will be leaked. From what I can tell, the person who is leaking the images, so far, is taking care to ensure no one in the photos is identifiable.”
“Or the videos.”
“Yes.”
“You realize some of us have identifiable tattoos, birthmarks, or scars.”
“Do you really believe your wife is going to be trawling illegally uploaded porn online?”
Brie’s lips purse, likely refraining from laughing, but I’ve had it. Hours of fielding member calls, and yes, my response is unprofessional, but I’m scraped raw. I can’t guarantee a video won’t leak of him.
“How many years back are the leaks?”
“As my letter said, so far nothing over one year old has been released.” From what I can tell, the more personal rooms weren’t breached until Elena split from Magpie, but I’m not sharing that level of insight.
Could discovery expose more if the DOJ prosecutes Elena Vasquez? Yes. Is that in my control? No.
I feel like reaching out to the owner of Ashley Madison, the site that married couples use to cheat, to commiserate. When the site was hacked, I imagine he went through much the same thing.
All that said, I do feel for the couples who weren’t cheating on anyone and rightfully fear they’ll be exposed in a public forum.
It’s not something I would want to happen, and in truth, I’ve used the rooms here, participated in more than one event.
Hell, I might find myself with a sex tape of my own.
If Elena possesses such a tape, I’m certain she’d be willing to share it widely without blurring my face.
Given she attempted to kill me, humiliation feels beneath her—but not off the menu.
“This is a nightmare,” the man growls. The call ends and I lower the headset.
Typically, I’d take calls on speaker to avoid having a phone pressed to my ear, but given the delicate nature of my conversations, I’ve been avoiding the speakerphone.
As I exhale, leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes, throat burning from constant use, tongue sanded with too many apologies, and a budding desire to avoid any more conversations for the rest of the day.
“You hanging in there?” Brie asks.
The red light on my desk phone lights up. I hold a hand out for her, gesturing for her to come to me.
“I’m done for the day. Messages can wait.”
It’s after eight in the evening and I’ve lost the ability to remain professional.
It’s a sign I need to stop and pick it back up tomorrow.
Alicia has a team working on this with me, answering questions with pre-approved answers, but my clients include a list of prominent, wealthy individuals who aren’t satisfied unless they speak to the owner.
And then my cell rings. It’s Tommy. Normally I’d call him back later, but while on the phone with members, both my father and sister called my cell. I hold up a finger, letting Brie know I’m going to take the call.
“Tommy,” I say in a tone that implies I’m exhausted and likely not alone.
“You’ve pissed off Margot.”
“What’d she say?”
Brie comes to my side of the desk and rests on the edge, watching.
“Said you blew a contact. Well, she called it a valuable relationship. Was so pissed she switched to French and you know my French sucks. What’d you do?”
“Saved her from herself.” I reach for Brie’s hand and rub my thumb along the end of her nail absent-mindedly. “Maybe. Did she say anything else? Anything you understood?”
“She’s on her way to Greece. Sounded business-related.”
And it would be. “Well, let me go.”
“You gonna call her?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand you two.”
“Right back at you.”
I end the call with Tommy, and press my father’s name. “I probably should’ve called him earlier. Let me get this over. It won’t take long,” I tell Brie.
She sees the screen in my hand. She knows. She crosses her arms over her middle, tentative.
This time there’s no talking father down. “You lied to me.”
In the background I hear my mother’s sharp warning, “Christian!”
“Nothing’s going to happen to Moira.” I inhale deeply, drawing on calm. “She wasn’t even involved. She passed me a name.”
“Yeah. Then why did she cut us off?”
Fuck.
“I’ll reach out.”
“Yeah? How’re you going to do that? You used me to find her.” He breathes through the phone and it’s not hard to visualize him…skin flushed with barely controlled anger. “You. Used. Me. Your father.”
There’s no real defense here. I could counterattack. Tell him he’s not the creative genius, or even the business virtuoso I grew up believing in.
“I apologize.” I leave it at that. My mother always said an apology with a but isn’t an apology, it’s an excuse.
“You’re so fucking stubborn.” He curses under his breath. I can’t decipher it all but he’s definitely not speaking English—maybe a blended mix of French and Italian obscenities.
“Christian!” Mom’s shout is so loud it sounds like she’s standing over him.
“I can’t do this,” he mutters. “Let me calm down.”
And with that, the call ends.
I hold the edge of the phone to my lips and look up to Brie, those blue eyes filled with concern.
“You okay?”
“I will be. There’s a good chance I’m officially cut out of his will, but my mother rules the house.”
“You’re his son.”
“I am. Underneath all that anger, he still loves me.”
“And you love him.”
I nod.
“Love doesn’t require perfection.”
“No, but it does require work.” I’ll have to reach out to Margot tomorrow.
Given I handed her the keys to the family business–literally–I expect her to come around.
With luck, the worst of her concerns–the d’Avricourt name getting dragged through the papers–won’t happen.
“Have you heard anything about a French government investigation?”
Brie chews on the corner of her lip. “No. So far all the interest is on Elena Vasquez.”
“And she’s been targeting me.”
“I don’t think she’d go after Magpie. Moira may lead it, but our sources claim it’s an organization, meaning a group.”
My head tilts back and I eye the ceiling, envisioning the heavens above. “With luck, all my sister’s worst worries won’t come to pass.”
“I’d say that’s likely.” She gives me a soft smile—because that’s all she can give. There are so many entities involved now, what happens is out of our control. “Hudson and Jake left for the day. Macon was closing up when I left. It’s just us.”
The club is closed to members for an undetermined period as I sort through the exposure.
She slides onto my lap and I inhale deeply, breathing in her subtle floral scent—not a single note I can name, just the particular alchemy of her skin and the products she uses.
I know this because I rummaged through the cosmetics she unpacked in my bathroom to sate my curiosity, to learn if she’d changed perfumes, but the scent will forever bring memories of comfort, of heaven, of Brie.
“Have many withdrawn membership?”
“I’m not sure. I sent the staff home today, remember? Numbers will undoubtedly decline, but it won’t mean the end. I’ll rebuild, and I’ll do it the right way.” I lift a wave of golden strands from her shoulder and twist them around a finger, forging a ringlet. “How was your day?”
“Busy. Probably not as busy as yours.”
“It’s not a competition.”
She grins. I like seeing her smile. She lightens the weight of the day, tilts the balance back toward bearable.
“We’re going room by room. Given so much is wireless these days, it takes time, but you should be safely up and running next week. Your employees…We still maintain Eddie didn’t work alone.”
“Right.”
“But we are working on recommended security protocols. After all, you’re not the only business that has to worry about employees selling client data. Credit card companies, brokerages, insurance companies—you’re not the first to grapple with this issue.”
“I’m more worried about Elena’s next step. Any luck on tracking her down?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ve got us a room at the Peninsula. I had Tommy’s assistant reserve it so it will be more time consuming to trace the hotel reservation.”
“We could just stay in Alicia’s place. She gave us a standing invitation.”
I shake my head slowly. “Elena knows about our connection to Alicia Morgan. It doesn’t feel safe to me.”
“Well, I believe in trusting one’s instinct. You ready to go?”
As she asks, a single mechanical beep sounds. Brie stiffens, then pushes up as if alarmed.
“What? What is it?”
She’s already at the door, peering into the waiting area and my receptionist’s desk. “That’s the alarm we installed. A door opened.” She holds a finger up. “Stay there.”
Like hell.
Within seconds, I’m beside her, listening.
And I hear it. A soft foot fall.
Then another.
Brie pushes me back into the office, shutting the door.
She taps the light switch twice—lowering the light to half-dim.
“Do you have a gun?” she whisper-shouts.
“No.” I give her a look that says I was raised with different tools—contracts and cameras, not handguns. “Why would I?”