if my father and I agree not to say another word, you will see that the charges are dropped?”
“No. Not only has my name been slandered in the news, but my assistant was coming back from lunch when your father’s protest was at its height. She was verbally assaulted and had things thrown at her. She has quit. And the temp agency doesn’t want to send anyone else.”
“Oh.” Gabrielle paused. “I don’t know what you want me to do to make this right.”
“You don’t need to do anything. You did not cause this mess.” Something told him this wasn’t Gabrielle’s first time cleaning up after her father. Perhaps taking care of Gabrielle meant freeing her from being constantly at her father’s beck and call. “Your father must face up to what he’s done.”
“But he’s in no physical condition to go through the legal process—”
“This isn’t your first time fixing things for your father, is it?”
“No.” She quickly added, “But he needs me.”
“Your father, can he cook for himself?”
“Yes, but—”
“Do his own laundry and shopping?”
“Yes, but—”
“You do most everything for him, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I’m his daughter. Now tell me what I can do to remedy things.”
In that moment, Deacon knew what needed to be done. Without giving himself a chance to back out, he said, “There is one thing and it’s nonnegotiable.”
“Name it.”
“Come work for me.”
Two days later...
WHAT EXACTLY HAD she agreed to?
Gabrielle Dupré’s heart beat faster as she turned into the gated drive of the Santoro estate. Her gaze shifted to the clock on the dash. The drive from Bakersfield had taken more than four hours. She definitely wouldn’t want to deal with that long commute each day. Thankfully Newton, an old friend from the neighborhood, had recently moved back to town and was renting a room from her father and had agreed to keep an eye on him while she worked here at the estate. Newton had changed since she’d last seen him, but he was happy to be there for her father, and they seemed to get on.
Deacon had offered her more money to work here than both of her jobs combined. It also included free room and board. Under different circumstances, she’d be excited about the opportunity. But with her father convinced that Mr. Santoro was the reason her aunt had died, being here felt uncomfortable to say the least.
She swallowed hard and reached out the driver’s side window, pressing a finger to a button on the intercom. She waited for someone to speak to her. However, without a word the gate swept open. She had to admit she was curious to see what awaited her on the other side of the wall. She’d done an internet search, but it hadn’t turned up any pictures of the estate.
Gabrielle eased her father’s vintage red convertible onto the overgrown grounds. It certainly wasn’t the grand estate that she’d been anticipating. Perhaps at one time this place might have been beautiful, but now it was woefully neglected. The grass appeared not to have been cut in ages. The bushes were overgrown and gangly. The flower gardens were overrun with weeds that were strangling out the few remaining flowers.
The internet sites said that Deacon Santoro had become a recluse since he’d been involved in the deadly accident. Apparently for once, the paparazzi hadn’t been totally wrong. There was definitely something amiss on this estate.
The Malibu beach house was a stunning piece of midcentury architecture. Gabrielle slowed the car to a stop to have a better look around. Feeling as though someone was staring at her, she glanced up at the massive white mansion. There was no one standing in any of the windows. But there was a window on the top floor where the sheers moved. Cold fingertips inched down her spine.
Stop it. You’re just being melodramatic. It’s not like this is a haunted mansion.
No matter what she told herself, she couldn’t shake her uneasiness. If it wasn’t for her father, she’d turn around and leave. But a deal was a deal.
When she’d handed in her immediate resignation at the library, they’d refused to accept it. The staff was small and they were all close, like a family. So, she was on sabbatical leave until her deal with Deacon was concluded. She was so grateful to have a job to return to. It was one less thing she had to worry about.
However, when she’d resigned at the tabloid, she’d made the mistake of letting Deacon Santoro’s name cross her lips. That spiked everyone’s interest. She’d been passed up the chain of management until she’d been sitting across from the managing editor. And when the whole sordid truth came tumbling out, the editor had assured her that she didn’t need to quit. In fact, they’d increased her pay.
The editor was putting Gaby on an assignment. The money was most welcome as her father’s mounting medical expense were beyond her means. She had been shocked until it became clear that they wanted her to feed them every bit of dirt she could dig up on Deacon Santoro. She’d initially refused. Finding out the truth about her aunt’s death was one thing. Digging up information about his private life just for sensational headlines was something else.
In the end, they’d all agreed that she would remain on the payroll and submit a daily report with information regarding the deadly accident. After all, if the legal system wouldn’t do anything about it, someone had to seek justice in whatever way possible. And so Gaby had come here not only to protect her father, but also to uncover the truth about the accident and to expose Deacon’s actions to the world.
At the time, the plan had seemed so easy. She’d play along as his assistant and befriend the man, which from the looks of the desolate place wouldn’t be hard. Then she’d get him to open up about the accident. She would prove that he was responsible for her aunt’s death. At last the world would know the truth, just like her father had wanted for so long. And then she could return to her life—a life that was temporarily on pause.
Gabrielle wheeled the car into a parking spot next to a late model gray sedan. She’d arrived early this morning as she’d wanted to make a good impression on Mr. Santoro. She didn’t want to give him any reason to go back on his agreement to drop the charges against her father, and that included keeping her connection with QTR magazine hush-hush.
She climbed out of the car and lifted her head to the blue sky. There was a gusty breeze. The forecasters said there was a storm brewing over the Pacific, although it hadn’t reached them yet. But there was an ominous tension in the air.
She turned to head inside, but she wasn’t sure where to go. There was yet another fence surrounding the building. There were numerous gates but no signs indicating where each led.
A movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Her gaze strayed across the outline of a figure in the distance.
“Excuse me,” Gabrielle called out as she rushed forward.
The
