2. Meg
2
MEG
I t wasn’t until very late before Pops took me back to my and Isabel’s apartment.
“We should fix your car,” he said. “I don’t like that you depend on those people to drive you around.”
What Pops didn’t know was that my car was all but ready for the scrapyard. But the last thing I wanted was for him to offer me a new car. “First paycheck I will, Pops.”
“And I also think while Isabel isn’t here, you should move back home…what do you say?”
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said, trying to keep things light. “I’ll stay a couple of nights a week with the fam, but I need to keep the apartment for when Isabel decides to come back.”
Pops was happy with the compromise, and in his typical dad fashion, he pulled out his wallet once we were in front of my place.
“You need a little cash for breakfast tomorrow?” he asked. “Can’t start your first day without a good breakfast.”
A lump caught in my throat. “I’m okay, Pops. Really. But thanks.”
I kissed Pops on the cheek and scrambled out of the car, not trusting myself to keep it together. Talking to anyone in the family felt impossible because they were all hurting over Isabel, too.
If they knew how badly it was hitting me, it would only make things worse.
Rain started to fall, and I sprinted up the path, clutching the velvet dress close. For a fleeting, ridiculous second, I expected to walk through the door and find Isabel there, as if nothing had changed.
But I was met with a suffocating silence. It was the kind of quiet that made the world feel impossibly empty.
For the first time in my adult life, I really needed someone to talk to. To my surprise, I had no one to call because everyone always came to me when life got complicated, and they needed a cocktail and a good cry.
So, I did what anyone would do in my sad state. I poured myself a vodka, mixed it with the last bit of Tropicana, and took a long look at my disaster of a bedroom.
Then, I started to clean up.
In proper Belmont Manor protocol, a driver was scheduled to pick me up this morning at the apartment. A wave of relief washed over me when I saw George’s familiar face as he waited by the black Navigator.
It was a bright and sunny day, a total contrast to my brewing mood. I was not allowed to sit in front, according to the Belmont rules, so fine, I stretched out in the back.
George was still in shock that Isabel had fled Belmont Manor. It took me a while to talk him off the ledge, even though my own heart was mashed to a pulp.
“I was as blindsided as everyone else, George,” I said to him. “Evil lurks in that fancy Belmont house. But I have a feeling Isabel will be back. And hey, in the meantime, I’m here, hoping to fill the gap while she’s gone. Like a silver lining, you know.”
He laughed. “Exactly the kinda thing my wife would say. She always looks on the bright side, too. And yes, you are our silver lining, Meg. That you are.”
We finally passed through the imposing black gates of Belmont Manor, and it was hard not to feel a sense of awe as we drove up the long, winding, tree-lined driveway. Even if I had been here before, I couldn’t help but gulp when the mansion finally came into view.
It was so grand and daunting, and all I could think was what a total bitch it had to be to clean all those windows. Not to mention vacuuming and polishing the floors.
Why I had to come to the manor instead of Zooming with Byron from the comfort of my ratty couch in my tiny apartment in the more realistic part of town, was still a mystery.
But at a wild guess, Roman thought that by keeping me close, I would divulge where Isabel was and help him get her back.
But oh, was he wrong, the treacherous fool.
“I’ll drop you off at the south wing,” George said. “Security will show you where the elevator is, and that will take you to the second floor, where the offices are. It will save you the long walk from the front door to the south wing.”
Did I have to snort at that? No, I didn’t. It was a natural reaction. “Not words I ever thought I’d hear in my life, but thank you, George.”
All was tranquil at the south wing entrance until the black Navigator pulled up. Then two burly guys popped out of nowhere, followed by Steven, Roman’s main security guy. Not that Steven ever looked like a congenial fellow, but he looked especially cranky this morning.
I stepped out of the SUV, feeling small against the imposing dwelling. Steven approached me halfway.
In the near distance, the North Atlantic was relentlessly pushing out waves, its timeless rhythm a reminder that life goes on.
Steven stood perfectly still as he locked his gaze on me. “Miss Belfiore.”
“Steven… I heard you were instrumental in taking Isabel to Abby Chatoise.”
“I was.”
“This is me thanking you. I trust Roman doesn’t know where she is.”
“He doesn’t.”
“And I trust he will not find out until he gets his head out of his ass.”
“No, he won’t.”
I looked up at the house, if you wanted to call it that. “Is feeling this nervous normal? I feel a bit like a lamb being led to the slaughter.”
The smallest trace of a smile flashed across his face. “You’ll be fine. Follow me, please.”
And so, I followed Steven into the south wing with no idea how working at Belmont Manor was going to turn my world sideways and upside down.