Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tatum stared at the ceiling, watching the early morning light creep across the plaster. She hadn't slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it. The killer leaning close to Lebowitz. The knife sliding between his ribs. The way he'd jerked once and then gone still.
And underneath that, the other thing she couldn't shake. The memory of Archer's hands on her skin. His mouth on hers. The way he'd looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
I can't lose you.
She pressed her palms against her eyes. It was a mistake. The kiss. All of it. She'd let her guard down, let the adrenaline and fear and relief tangle into something that felt like want. Like need. But it wasn't real. It couldn't be real.
Because Archer Gray was dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with his body count or his connections or the cold calculation ever-present in his eyes.
He was dangerous because he made her feel things.
Made her want things she'd spent her entire life convincing herself she didn't need.
Trust. Partnership. Someone to have her back.
And that was terrifying.
She'd built her life on self-sufficiency.
On not needing anyone. On being strong enough, smart enough, capable enough to handle whatever came her way.
She'd watched her parents and decided long ago that she would never let anyone get that close.
They used their love to hurt one another.
Her father was a master at it. He merely had to give her mother a look, and Bunny would stop arguing, stop wanting whatever it was she'd been arguing about, and simply give in.
No one would ever believe it of Bunny. She had a reputation for never compromising. If she wanted something, she got it. No one said no to Bunny. Outside the house.
Inside those four walls, out of public view, Bunny existed on a very short leash, and although she railed against it internally, she knew the hopelessness of rebelling against Tatum’s father.
It drove Tatum nuts. She'd rooted for her mother to stand up against her father her whole life, but Bunny never had.
Not once. It was a strange, painful thing to grow up watching.
What made it worse was how Bunny redirected all of that suppressed rage onto Tatum. Tatum had always been the safe target for everything Bunny couldn't say to Stuart.
She rubbed her eyes. Thank God for her grandfather. He'd stepped in on more than one occasion and taken her out of the house. Weekends at museums and the theatre. Summers at the Finger Lakes at their cottage, Thistledew. It was how she'd survived her childhood intact.
And yet here she was, still working for the family firm. She'd said no in law school, been determined not to do it. Then her grandfather had stepped in and asked her, as a personal favor, to give it five years.
That was ten years ago. Gramps had been dead for six of them.
There was no reason left to stay. Until now, there'd been no particular reason to go either. Recently, she’d decided she would see the Ponzi scheme case through, help the people who'd gotten screwed, and then she was done.
Out of New York. There was a big, wide world out there, and she was going to find her place in it.
Florence, maybe. She'd minored in art in college and had loved the city since the first time she'd visited.
Or Ireland. She'd had her astrocartography chart done once, and it had said Ireland was the ideal place for her. Maybe it was time to let the stars guide her since she didn’t appear to be doing such a great job on her own.
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, and immediately her mind went back to Archer. The way he'd looked at her in the alley outside the club, shaken in a way she'd never seen him before, and then the kiss that had followed and the words that came with it.
She needed to get her head straight. Whatever had happened last night, whatever that was between them, it couldn't change the reality of her situation.
She was staying at the Society as a matter of safety, not because she and Archer were anything to each other.
Last night had been a collision of adrenaline, fear, and relief. Nothing more.
She almost believed it.
Her cell rang. She glanced at the screen.
Bunny.
She'd been avoiding her mother for over twenty-four hours. Never a good thing. Sighing, she answered. "Mother."
"Tatum. I've been trying to reach you all weekend."
"I know. Josh made that very clear."
Her mother paused as if that wasn't the answer she'd expected. Then she continued, "I need you to come into the office today."
"I’m working on something."
"Tatum, it's very important you come in. Your father and I wish to speak to you."
Tatum's patience snapped. "I'm not coming in so I can get lectured.
Forget it. I'm going to pursue the case against Kelly, Lebowitz, and North.
People deserve to get their money back if they can, and I'm going to do my best to make that happen.
Being lectured to by you and Dad isn't going to change anything. "
"That's not what we want to talk to you about, Tatum." Her mother's voice was ice. She was enunciating very clearly, which was never a good sign.
Tatum hesitated. "Then what is it?"
"Come into the office."
Click.
The line went dead. Mother's way or the highway. Always, always her way, at least with Tatum. She stared at the phone. Part of her was tempted to say screw it and skip the whole thing. But her father wanted her there too, and that changed the calculus entirely.
On the outside, Stuart Wellington was an affable man.
Everyone loved him. Warm handshake, easy smile, a kind man who remembered your name and your kids' names and what you drank at parties.
He was charming and generous and universally well-liked, and he had worked very hard to make sure it stayed that way.
On the inside, Stuart Wellington was something else entirely.
Nobody stepped out of line in Stuart's world.
Not if Stuart didn't want them to. Tatum had learned that early.
Stepping out of line had consequences. Not physical, never physical.
Stuart was far too controlled for anything so obvious.
He had other methods, quieter ones, and they were somehow more devious.
Commentary delivered in a reasonable voice that made you feel like you were disappearing.
A withdrawal of warmth so gradual you almost didn't notice until it was gone.
The way he could look at you across a room and make you feel like you'd already lost.
She contemplated skipping the meeting. Her stomach turned at the thought of going. But if she skipped, her father would come after her, and that was worse. It was always easier to just show up.
Truth be told, she was afraid of him. She'd been lucky.
He'd never really asked her to do anything too egregious, and he hadn't come down too hard on her for the stupid things she'd done as a teenager.
But she'd watched what he'd done to people who refused him.
He'd dismantled them systematically, taking their lives apart piece by piece in ways that could never quite be traced back to him.
She had no desire to experience that firsthand.
Being his daughter wouldn't save her from it.
If anything, it would make it more thorough.
Bunny had not been so fortunate as to avoid Stuart's disapproval over the years. Tatum was quite sure it was one of the reasons her mother was so relentlessly hard on her. Bunny had to let the rage out somewhere, and she didn't dare aim it at Stuart.
Tatum sighed. She was going to have to go.
She pulled on a long-sleeved top and made her way out of the Society, pausing for just a moment at the door.
She thought about Archer, about whether he was already up and working, about whether last night had shifted anything for him the way it had for her.
She pushed the thought away firmly. Focus.
Once she arrived home, she paused at her apartment door.
The gratitude hit her the same way it had the first time she'd seen it restored.
Everything exactly as it should be, calm and whole and untouched.
She really did need to thank Archer properly.
Every time she tried to figure out how, her mind went somewhere she wasn't prepared to follow yet.
She grabbed a quick shower, pulled on a navy pantsuit with a silk blouse underneath, and headed to the office.
"Hi, Carol," she said as she strolled past the receptionist’s desk.
"I'll let your parents know you're here," Carol called after her.
I'll bet you will.
Carol was one of their most loyal foot soldiers, much like Joshua, and there was something about her cheerful eagerness to report back that had always gotten under Tatum's skin.
The gleam in her eye when she thought she had something worth passing along.
Tatum avoided her when possible and kept it brief when she couldn't.
"Great. You do that," Tatum said without breaking stride.
She was going to her office first and drinking a cup of coffee before she did anything else. She strolled in, sat down at her desk, and briefly reviewed what her assistant Sam had put in her inbox.
Sam appeared in the doorway a moment later. "I didn't know you were going to be here today."
"Neither did I."
"Oh. It's like that, is it?" Sam gave a short laugh.
"Apparently so." Tatum sighed. "Can you do me a favor and bring me some coffee?"
"Happy to. Oh, and someone brought in doughnuts. Would you like one?"
There was a certain appeal to getting a sugar buzz going to deal with whatever her parents had up their sleeves. "That would be wonderful."
"I'll be back in a few." Sam breezed out again.