The Bodyguard Affair

But as she picked it up, she saw Bianca’s name written on the front of the small envelope. In fine penmanship, no less.

Sam wasn’t one to snoop through anyone’s mail, let alone her girlfriend’s—if she was willing to call Bianca that yet. And she wouldn’t go through a client’s mail unless asked. Besides it being a felony, there were simply things she did not need to know about her clients. Credit, bills, invitations to potentially embarrassing events.

Yet Vivianne’s warning that everyone in the family carefully screen their mail for anything suspicious rang in Sam’s mind. This?

This was suspicious.

After glancing over her shoulder, Sam closed the door and slid her nail beneath the glue sealing the envelope. Inside was a short letter.

Bianca,

There are things about your mother that you don’t know. Things that will make all the puzzle pieces fall into place. You and your sisters all deserve to know the truth. But I want to tell you first, because there’s still time left for you.

Call me at the number below if you want to know the truth about Vivianne Black.

Sam didn’t recognize the area code of the phone number, but a quick search on her phone revealed it was from the east coast.

As she pondered the meaning of the note, something stirred in the bedroom. The door was open wide enough for Sam to catch a glimpse of Bianca brushing her hair and putting on a clean T-shirt.

Sam shoved the envelope into the pocket of her jacket, which hung from the front hallway’s coat rack, before returning to the kitchen to plate up the eggs and toast, minus cheese.

The letter would have to wait. Right now, Bianca needed comfort, not more stress. Besides, it was all starting to come together in Sam’s mind. She was so close to the truth that she could feel it.

And if, like she suspected, that truth was something that would shatter Bianca’s relationship with her mother? Sam needed to speak to Vivianne and get to the bottom of things, once and for all.

“Got some for me, hot stuff?”

Sam almost dropped the spatula as she whipped around and saw Bianca standing by the island counter, her shirt halfway up her torso and her fingers running through her hair.

She was too precious to upset with secrets and mysterious letters right now.

* * *

“Let me in,” Sam demanded that night to her employee. “I need to have a conversation with Mrs. Black.”

Trevor held up his hands defensively. “You know that if it was up to me, I’d let you in. But Mr. and Mrs. Black said—”

“I don’t care what they said. I need to talk to Mrs. Black about who is behind these security breaches. Because I know she knows who it is. And I think I know who it is.”

If Sam had learned one thing in the military, it was how to be tough and authoritative when necessary, especially when it came to the people whose paychecks she signed every month.

“All right, but if they ask, I ain’t responsible for this.” Trevor stepped aside. Brent, who had been quiet the entire time, shook his head as Sam entered the penthouse.

“Ah, Madame Reddy!”

By this point, Sam recognized the housekeeper Fleur, ‘French’ accent and all. Sam really wasn’t in the mood for it now. Especially if it was fake.

“We were not expecting you,” Fleur said. “I’m afraid—”

“I’m here to see Mrs. Black.” The woman shook in her flats as Sam loomed over her. “I know she’s here. And I don’t care if she doesn’t want to see me right now. Tell her it’s a matter of her family’s security.”

“O… oui, Madame.”

Fleur scampered down one of the three hallways branching from the main hall of the penthouse. Sam remained near the entrance. She had a feeling that Mrs. Black would not be coming out to meet her in the receiving room.

Sure enough, when Fleur returned, it was to meekly invite Sam back into Vivianne’s private salon.

“Have you come here to torment me, Ms. Reddy?” Vivianne, nursing a glass of wine that clearly wasn’t her first, didn’t get up from her chaise lounge. She was firmly ensconced beneath a quilt. “Have you had your fill of my young daughter and now want to move on to me? I’m afraid I’m not in the mood to be seduced. I’m also not so easily beguiled by womanly charms.”