He doesn’t object to me following him. Almost, as we get in the elevator, I feel like he doesn’t realize I’m there. Fuck, why can’t I stop leaping to that invisibility paranoia? I thought I was over that.
Yeah, it used to bother me, but I hadn’t really thought about it in years, not until …
Not until I wanted Andre’s attention so badly.
I get that attention for a second. When the elevator doors open, he says, “Stay back. She’s—” He cuts himself off. Weirdly, I feel like he was going to say “dangerous.” Instead he says, “I don’t want you around her.”
“Who?”
“Rebecca Grange.”
Andre exits the elevator. The doors start to close, but I dart through.
Andre quickly outpaces me. My feet are slow and clumsy while my mind is racing. Rebecca Grange …
I’ve read about her. She’s the widow of Peter Grange, former owner of The Axis. Why would Andre not want me around her?
From the doorway between the private elevator alcove and the main lobby, I watch Andre stride toward the front desk. There, a lady in her 60s appears to be arguing with Gina and Jeremy as they try to lure her away. She’s not having it.
“I’m not leaving until I see Andre!” Her sharp voice cuts through the vaulted space, where a few guests are pretending to mind their own business.
“I’m here, Mrs. Grange,” Andre announces.
She spins to face him, her pink pastel coat swirling. “Finally! I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks! Phone calls, emails—”
“I’ve been busy, Mrs. Grange.”
I puzzle over that. I’ve never seen or heard anything from her. Either she’s lying or Andre has blocked her.
“Busy destroying someone else’s life?” she sneers.
Andre gestures in the direction of the tea room. Like Jeremy and Gina, who are now hovering, he wants her away from the front desk, but she’s still not having it.
She draws herself up, though even her heels only bring her to about Andre’s sternum.
“I won’t be fobbed off with a mimosa and overcooked Eggs Benedict. I want the landscape painting that was hung there. The one of the island.” She points an imperious finger to the right of the front desk.
“It’s gone, Mrs. Grange.”
“I can obviously see that. But it has personal significance—”
“I said it’sgone.”
“Gone,” she echoes. “What does that mean?”
“Itmeans, Mrs. Grange, that I took it down from the wall, ripped it to fucking shreds, and burned it.”
Rebecca Grange goes silent. Everyone goes silent.
Andre doesn’t move. He has his hands in his pockets. Somehow, in spite of that, he looks dangerous. He sounds it, too, when he speaks again. His voice is low, but it carries.
“Stop playing this game while you can. You know very well that I hold all the cards.”
She shrinks from him. “You’re a monster, Andre.”
“Takes one to know one, Rebecca. Now fuck off and don’t come back.”
He stares at her until she retreats. He stares her all the way to the door.
