Page 31 of Her Courage

I remained standing. "I'd rather not."

Her expression hardened. "I said. Sit."

Something in her tone made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I lowered myself onto the edge of the bench, leaving maximum distance between us. My phone pressed against my thigh through the fabric of my pocket.

"That's better." Patrice settled back, crossing her legs with practiced elegance. "Now, let's discuss how you're going to convince my son to give in to my demands."

"I'm not⁠—"

She shifted, and the cream jacket opened just enough. A flash of black metal. A gun tucked against her ribs in a shoulder holster.

My mouth went dry. The words died in my throat.

"I thought that might help you reconsider your initial response." Her smile turned saccharine sweet again. "You see, Charlotte, I need Kaleb to release a rather substantial amount of money to me. But he's been... difficult lately. Ever since you appeared, actually."

I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. My fingers slipped into my pocket, working blind as I tried to unlock my phone.

"Kaleb has always been a stubborn boy," Patrice continued, examining her manicured nails. "But he used to be malleable. Guilt works wonders on him, you see. Until you came along and ruined everything."

My thumb pressed what I hoped was the right sequence. Please let the passcode be correct.

"I've invested a lot of time and resources into a certain business venture with my husband," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Unfortunately, it requires capital we don't currently possess. Capital that my son has been unreasonably withholding."

I tapped at the screen, praying I was hitting the right icons. The group text thread. The call button at the top.

"Now, here's what's going to happen." Patrice leaned forward, her eyes glittering with malice. "You're going to go back to that office, and you're going to convince Kaleb that this investment is worthwhile. You'll tell him it's important to you. That you believe in it."

"He'll never⁠—"

"Oh, I think he will." She waved a dismissive hand. "He's besotted with you. It's written all over his pathetic face every time he looks at you. All three of them are. Quite nauseating, really."

My phone felt hot against my palm. Had I managed to dial? Was anyone listening?

"If you refuse," Patrice continued, adjusting her jacket so the gun was visible again, "I have quite the dossier compiled. Photos. Timestamps. Names. Everything the press would need to destroy all three of their reputations. And that little club they run? The Sandbox, isn't it? How delightful that would be for the newspapers."

She stood, smoothing down her jacket. "The investment requires two million dollars. I'll send you the details. You have forty-eight hours to convince Kaleb, or I go public with everything. Do we have an understanding?"

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Andrei. Please be listening. Please.

"Charlotte." Patrice's voice sharpened. "I asked if we have an understanding."

"What makes you think I won't just tell Kaleb about this conversation?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.

Her laughter was cold. "Because you're a smart girl who doesn't want to see the men she loves destroyed." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I've been dealing with difficult people my entire life, dear. I know how to make problems disappear. And you, Charlotte, are just a problem I can solve if needed. I've made people meet with certain untimely deaths, adding you to my list would be easy."

The gun flashed again beneath her jacket.

"Two million dollars. Forty-eight hours. Or I ruin them all." Patrice slid her sunglasses back on. "Oh, and do keep that phone in your pocket, won't you? I'd hate for you to accidentally call anyone while we're having such a nice chat."

My blood turned to ice.

She knew.

Patrice smiled, that cruel twist of her lips making my stomach churn. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice your hand moving in your pocket? I wasn't born yesterday, Charlotte. But here's the thing—even if someone is listening, they have no proof of anything. Just my word against yours. And who do you think people will believe? A respected woman of society, or a nobody clerk playing dress-up as a director while sleeping with her bosses?"

She turned to leave, calling over her shoulder. "Forty-eight hours, Charlotte. The clock is ticking."

I sat frozen on the bench, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. My phone was still in my pocket, pressed against my palm.