“What?”
“Understand that,” Eve said. “You meant nothing. You were just another notch to him, another body, another way for him to feel important and powerful. You didn’t ask for it, you didn’t open the door to it. You were just another opportunity for him, another income source, and that’s it.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“Up to you, but it’s truth. It’s fact.”
Kira breathed out again. “It’s harsh, and maybe because it’s harsh, it makes me feel better.”
“I appreciate the time.” Eve started for the door, stopped. “I figure you’ll make that deadline.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. You won’t let him screw you over again.”
• • •
She mulled over the conversation, her impressions, what she’d seen, heard and felt on the drive home. All she needed was maybe a half hour more—that wasn’t much—to write it all up, shoot it off to Peabody, Mira.
And, okay, maybe another ten or fifteen to update her board, review the data Peabody would have accumulated by now.
Forty-five minutes, another hour tops, then she’d switch gears, go into full party-prep mode.
It was fair.
Satisfied with the bargain, she drove through the gates. And stopped the car in the middle of the long drive to gape. Appalled.
Trucks and vans and people crowded and swarmed at the entrance of the house. Those people carted trees—how could they possibly need more trees—plants, flowers, crates and boxes and God only knew.
She watched as some of the vehicles drove around the sprawling house to, she assumed, go around the side or the back where undoubtedly they’d unload more trees, plants, flowers, crates and boxes and God only knew.
They comprised an army of workmen, decorators, gofers. And she imagined this first wave didn’t include the second force that would deal with food and beverage.
You didn’t need armies for a party. You needed armies for a war.
Apparently, this was war.
And where the hell was she supposed to dump her car?
Seeing little choice, and hoping to avoid the various battalions for as long as possible, she drove around to the garage.
She sat in the car a moment, drumming her fingers, trying to remember how to gain access. Damn place was as big as a house. Normally she just parked out front. She knew Summerset—in his anal, everything in its stupid proper place way—remoted whatever vehicle she dumped there into the garage, and had it remoted back out front in the morning.
So she didn’t hassle with the garage as a rule. She considered leaving it where it was, but that felt stupid. Instead, she tapped the in-dash, tagged Roarke.
“Lieutenant.”
“Yeah, hey. Thought I should tell you I’m back.”
“And in a timely fashion.”
“Yeah. There’s a bunch of everybody out front. A parking lot of vehicles so I’m going to pull into the garage.”
“Well, all right then.”
“But, the thing is, I can’t remember the code.”
On the dash screen, he smiled at her. “Eve, have you still not read the bloody manual for your vehicle?”