Page 38 of When Lies Unfold

My protest is immediate. “Oh, no. I can’t take this. It’s yours.”

With a furtive glance at the two adults at the door, she points at the butterfly in my hand and then to my chest as if to say, It’s yours now.

The stubborn finality in her eyes has me offering a sincere thank you before bending my knees to reach beneath my right sock. I unclasp the small anklet and hold it up between us.

“I’d like you to have this. It has tiny blue morphos on it, too. Do you see it?”

Expression gleaming with wonder at the miniature charms on the chain, she nods.

“It should fit you perfectly if we double it.”

She extends her right wrist to me, and I carefully loop it around twice before securing the clasp. She stares down at it as if I’ve given her the greatest gift in the world instead of a little bracelet.

I’m caught off guard when she leans in and plants a kiss on my cheek. Then she runs off to the far end of her room where her enormous dollhouse sits.

The nanny enters but doesn’t approach Alma. Instead, she tidies up a few books on the shelf.

“Now, Miss Arias,” Santiago commands, his tone frostier than ever. “Follow me.”

I avoid his gaze and straighten, not caring to witness his look of disapproval. It’s not like I did anything wrong. I didn’t seek out the girl and certainly didn’t try to manipulate her in any way.

Once I draw near the threshold, he moves back and gestures for me to step into the hallway. I grab my boots and follow him in my socked feet. Our short walk is wordless as he leads me to his office and he closes the door this time, leaving us ensconced in silence.

Carefully placing my boots at the foot of the chair, I lower myself into it while he takes the large leather one behind his desk. The leather creaks when he shifts forward to rest his elbows on the expansive desk.

Steepling his fingers, he surveys me critically. “You have any experience with children?”

His random question makes me frown in confusion. “I’m a cleaner, so, no. Definitely not.”

His eyes rake over my features as though he’s searching for any shred of dishonesty. Reaching for the computer keyboard off to one side of a flat-screen monitor, his fingers fly over the keys before he turns the monitor my way.

Another larger flat-screen monitor is mounted along the wall closest to his desk, depicting video surveillance in and around this entire place.

My confusion grows as I observe what appears to be live video footage from his daughter’s bedroom. The nanny attempts to engage Alma in both play and conversation, but the girl remains silent, not responding to the woman.

I cast a cautious glance his way. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to show me.”

A deep, cavernous crease forms between his brows. He leans back in his seat, his attention resting solely on me. “I’m showin’ you what usually happens with my daughter.”

He shoves up from his chair and folds his arms across his chest. “She hasn’t spoken to anybody for two years.”

“What?” Stunned, I whip my head around, gaping at the live feed. Disbelief courses through me that the little girl who chatted with me—or at me—nonstop is the same one he’s describing.

“You heard me, Miss Arias.” Features reeking of suspicion, his tone is arctic as he splays his hands on his desk and leans forward. “I wanna know exactly what you did and said to her.”

My anger crests, and I dart up from my chair, my voice rising incrementally. “I didn’t do a damn thing but open that bathroom door and find your daughter waiting there!”

I slam my palms down on his desk and lean toward him, mimicking his pose. “If you’re so upset that she spoke to me, maybe you should hire someone who will not only keep up with her better, but also have some sort of connection with her!”

My words reverberate between us as our glares hold. With eerie languidness, he leans in and brings our faces even closer. The air thickens with an odd tension and heat, and I fight against the unsettling urge to move closer.

“That sounds like an interestin’ proposition.”

I tip my head at his confusing response. “What’re you talking about? I didn’t propose anything.”

“Close enough.” His granite-hard expression belies the calm smoothness of his tone. “I need somebody who can connect with my daughter, and for some unknown fuckin’ reason, she took to you.”

I ease back, unwilling to break eye contact because he’s watching me similar to how a hungry lion might regard a lone gazelle.

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