Chapter Fifteen #2
Chauvel’s words were low and fierce. “Suddenly she doesn’t want anything to do with me.
Says she’s discovered this new side of herself.
That the Scarlet Pimpernel was responsible for all of it.
She leaves me. Leaves me.” He scoffed again.
“I gave her a few months to see reason, waiting for it to all fall apart. She’s not even with him, you know.
He probably wanted nothing to do with her once she didn’t belong to another man. ”
What a disgusting way to refer to someone, like she was property. “You want this article to get back at the Pimpernel.”
“Of course I do. I want to reveal him for what he truly is.” Chauvel didn’t sound angry; he sounded calculating, like he was beyond anger.
“He hides behind his anonymity like a coward. And look at you, defending him. It makes sense that you’d want to protect him.
I bet he makes you feel all kinds of things that your boyfriend never could. ”
Maggie was about ready to say, “I don’t have a boyfriend,” but she stopped herself in time and didn’t say anything.
“He’s a sweet fellow.” Chauvel looked past her shoulder, and Maggie knew he was probably looking right at Blake.
Then he turned them both around until Maggie was facing Blake over Chauvel’s shoulder.
“Look at him, dancing with that dear old lady. Imagine what he’d think about you degrading yourself for some online asshole who won’t even show his face. ”
Maggie hated the part of her that agreed with him. Maybe she was being foolish, thinking there could ever be something more with the Pimpernel. Chauvel took advantage of her silence to keep talking. “I want more, Marguerite. I want to know who he is. I want everyone to know.”
Maggie pulled back to look into his face, trying to keep her voice low as anger and shock warred within her.
“That wasn’t part of the deal. I never agreed to dox him.
” If she revealed the Pimpernel’s identity, she could ruin his life.
He’d never been anything other than kind to her, and she couldn’t hurt him like that.
“I own you,” Chauvel hissed, his voice as quiet as hers but far more deadly.
“All I have to do is say the word, and your bank accounts are frozen, your sister’s lab loses funding …
maybe worse.” He smiled, cold and ruthless.
“It would be terrible for the forensic accountant to find evidence that you were willfully obstructing a federal investigation, wouldn’t it? ”
Maggie’s stomach dropped. “That’s not fair.”
“Don’t underestimate me.” His expression was ruthless, and she knew he wasn’t bluffing. He would ruin her life over nothing, like he was trying to ruin the Pimpernel’s. She moved woodenly through the steps of the dance, her options dissolving away like smoke.
Maybe the Pimpernel was the sacrifice she had to offer up for her and Cora’s happiness.
Chauvel seemed to recognize that he was winning. “You don’t have to publish his identity. But I want a better article, all the sordid details, and I want to know who he is. Surely he’s asked to meet you by now. There’s only so much you can do online.”
Maggie felt numb, disconnected, like she was outside of her body. She saw herself nod.
Chauvel considered her. “Just tell me where and when. And you won’t have to think about it ever again. Hell, I’ll even double your price, if it’s about the money.”
She looked past Chauvel’s shoulder at Blake: sweet, good-hearted, kind Blake. What did she know about the Pimpernel? She knew a handful of facts from some casual conversations. She knew his kinks and how they aligned with hers. If she tried, maybe she could pretend none of it had meant anything.
“Monday at seven. The Weatherfield restaurant.”
When the words were out, she felt nothing at all.
“There we go.” He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles, and her skin prickled with discomfort. “Your sweet boyfriend doesn’t ever need to know. Take your money and know you’ve done a good job.”
Maggie remained silent, still numb.
At her continued silence, Chauvel scoffed. “It’s not like he was going to fall in love with you.”
He’d hit a nerve, and she tried not to react.
She could see Chauvel for what he was, a mean-spirited, vindictive man who thought women belonged to him.
But he also somehow knew that she had feelings for the Pimpernel, even if she didn’t know what to do with them. He thought she was being ridiculous.
Maybe she was.
The song ended, and Maggie stepped away without looking back at Chauvel. She headed directly for the bar.
She passed straight by Blake where he was still chatting with that woman, Cynthia H-something, not stopping to catch his eye even as her thoughts shifted to him.
Chauvel had been right about one thing: Blake was a good man.
She liked him. He was kind, and funny, and friendly, and hot in that tuxedo.
Maybe she could forget about the Pimpernel and focus on what was right in front of her.
Blake didn’t like Arnold Chauvel, based on reputation alone.
He hadn’t known Chauvel personally, but he’d heard stories about him: about the nepotism and misogyny underpinning his companies, about how he had quietly settled multiple lawsuits for sexual harassment.
Tonight, seeing him in person, reinforced Blake’s dislike.
Most of all, Chauvel didn’t seem to treat Maggie well, and that was enough to set off Blake’s warning system.
He didn’t like the fact that Maggie had chosen to work with him, but he understood that sometimes freelance work put a person in line with unsavory companions.
And right now, they were dancing. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could tell that Maggie was upset at the conversation.
Her posture was upright, back rigid, neck tense to the point that she would probably be sore later.
Then Chauvel turned her with the music, and Blake could read Maggie’s face.
Her expression was neutral, a huge red flag.
Whatever Chauvel was saying, Maggie didn’t like it.
Blake had to turn when Cynthia gestured for him to look at someone, some friend she had a story about.
When Blake was finally able to turn back, the song was ending, and Maggie was already leaving Chauvel’s embrace.
She looked agitated, determined, maybe flustered, and he wanted to go to her.
He took a moment to thank Cynthia for the dance and gave her hand a kiss, making her cackle with laughter.
She blushed and waved him away. “Go on, get back to that woman of yours before I steal you away.”
Blake found Maggie taking a shot at the bar. “Hey.” He touched her shoulder. “You OK? That looked intense.”
She grimaced and nodded, then squeezed a lime into her mouth. “I’ll be OK.” She tucked the spent lime wedge into the shot glass and slid them back across the bar. “I hate that prick.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Did he make a pass at you? I can have him thrown out.”
Maggie shook her head and led him away from the bar. “No. It’s just …” She paused, looking around. “Mind if we get a little air?”
The evening had started cold and gotten colder, and Blake put his jacket around Maggie’s shoulders as they found a spot to stand outside, a short ways away from the people taking smoke breaks.
“There’s a financial investigation into my parents’ business dealings,” Maggie said without preamble.
“Chauvel’s keeping the heat off me while it’s happening, and he’s supporting Cora’s lab at the same time.
In exchange, I’m writing an exposé article for him. ”