Page 3 of Alec

“Are you from Riley’s?” a smooth voice asked from behind her.

Olivia turned around to face a tall, handsome man. He looked very well put together in his tailored navy suit and dark Italian shoes, and carried a leather portfolio case she recognized as costing more than she made in three months. In any other situation she would have responded favorably, except for one off-putting thing. A faint but quite unpleasant smell came from the man, as if he were a brightly polished apple with a wormy, rotten core.

“Yes, I’m Olivia Gibson,” she said, trying not to grimace. “Are you Mr. Beaumont?”

“Renard, please.” The man held out his hand, his elevator eyes shifting from her face down the length of her body to her slightly bowed calves and back up again. “I’m so glad you could make it on such short notice.”

Great, he thought joking about her height was fine. If she’d made a pun about his nasty body odor, he’d probably tell Jack to really fire her—but such was the world.

“Not a problem.” She briefly pressed her hand to his, concealing a shudder over the clamminess of his skin and his body odor, which seemed to grow thicker.

Man, he really reeks. I might be short, but at least I bathe every day.

When he turned to unlock and open the gates Olivia wiped her palm against her trousers. “Have you contacted your insurance adjustor to make a claim yet, sir?”

Maybe she could use that as an excuse to leave. The way he looked at her wasn’t unusual, but it gave her more reasons to worry about being alone with him. She was no beauty, but her size sometimes attracted men with unsavory or illegal predilections. At four foot-ten and seventy-one pounds she had little hope of fighting off an attacker of his size. Belatedly she wished she had let her boss come with her; Jack could have stayed in the car.

“I’m self-insured,” he said as he came back to her. “Given its age and lurid history, the castle seems too risky for insurers.”

That puzzled Olivia, as the practice of setting aside enough money to pay for a property-related loss was more common for well-to-do homeowners. “As long as you’re in agreement with the work estimates, Mr. Beaumont, then that should speed up the process.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Why don’t you call me Renard, little girl? Riley never has to know you did.”

A voice from the past echoed, You can let me in, little girl. She never has to know.

Olivia grew instantly, thoroughly nauseated. “Thank you, sir, but that’s not appropriate.” She forced herself to walk through the gates beside the banker, keeping a wide gap between them.

As they walked up to the center of the drive Beaumont described what damage he had seen, and how he planned to have the fallen trees removed prior to the beginning of repairs on the castle. He sounded remarkably bland, as if everything he’d said before had been only a product of Olivia’s imagination. Yet every few steps he would glance at her, as if gauging her reactions.

She took out her tablet and made notes of everything he mentioned. “I’d like to take some photographs of the exterior damages, and then we can perform a walk-through of the interior.” If she hurried, she could be away from him and out of here in less than an hour.

“Sorry, but I can’t stay,” Beaumont said, startling her again. “I’m flying down to L.A. in a few hours and have to finish packing for my trip.”

Relief over the chance to escape the man kept her from becoming annoyed. “You can call the office to reschedule the estimate survey.” Which she would hand off to one of the male staff members, along with a warning about this guy, she thought.

“Oh, I trust you, Ms. Gibson. Even if I didn’t, there’s nothing you can steal inside.” He extracted from the case he carried a set of keys, a folded piece of paper, and a small flashlight. “Here’s a map of where you can find the damage to the interior. It’s limited to one passage on the east side of the first floor. When you’re finished, please lock any doors you open and of course the front gates once you leave. I’ll come by your office on Monday to look over the estimate and pick up the keys.”

Olivia knew she should refuse. She’d have to film her survey with her digital camera to prove where she had gone on the property.

She took the keys, map and flashlight from him. “I’m fine with that, as long as you are, sir.”

“You’re such a polite little thing. Of course, I am.” Beaumont winked. “Have fun.”

Olivia watched Beaumont walk back out through the gates with a sense of enormous relief. A few moments later he drove past in a silver Mercedes that looked as if he’d just picked it up from the showroom. That was when she realized that she’d clenched her hands so tightly her fingernails were stabbing into her palms. She used to do the same thing whenever her aunt came home from work in a bad mood.

Why do you look guilty, young lady? Mae Gibson would demand. Did you do something you’re not supposed to? I’ll know if you lie to me. I always do.

Slowly Olivia continued up toward the castle, skirting around the two walls and the collapsed roof of the shed that the storm had dropped on the center of the driveway. The enormous structure of the medieval stronghold seemed to grow taller and more imposing with every step she took, and yet she sensed nothing menacing about the place. On the contrary, it was a real-life version of the sandcastles she’d seen kids building on California beaches, just larger and more elaborate.

“I have to try that myself one day,” Olivia said, mentally adding it to the extremely long list of things she had yet to ever do.

Sulking again? Mae’s ghost sneered. I kept you out of foster care. I raised you to be a decent girl. The settlement from my car crash paid for that wretched college you attended as well as your living expenses while you looked for a job. You should get down on your knees every night and give thanks that I raised you, you ungrateful brat.

The therapist Olivia had seen for a few years after Mae died had helped her realize lots of things, like the reason she so often heard that cold, flinty voice inside her head. It wasn’t her aunt or a ghost at all. It actually came from her own guilt over making choices directly in opposition to Mae’s wishes. Seventeen years of being entirely dependent on and obedient to her aunt, as well as all the thoughts that Olivia had kept to herself as a child, had contributed as well. Her aunt had been her whole world for so long she’d trained herself to imagine her reactions. Simply understanding and accepting the truth of what Mae had done to her had been extremely difficult for Olivia.

You have great courage and inner strength, Ms. Gibson, her therapist had said at the end of their last session. I believe someday you will find the love and happiness you’ve always deserved.

By then she’d learned about the permanent effects of her condition, and what that meant for her future.