Page 19 of Mind Maze

We’ve done a lot to Romy, but I’ve never seen her so enraged. After learning that her nanny molested her, I understand her anger. Whether or not Vivienne’s done anything to Kaitlyn is to be determined. Still, I’m not taking any chances.

“Pack your stuff,” I say to Vivienne. “You’ll receive pay through the rest of the month. Leave a forwarding address at the front desk and we’ll mail you your items from the cabin back home.”

Vivienne has the gall to appear confused. As if this is all some misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry,” Vivienne says in a soft, innocent tone. “Am I missing something? Did I do something wrong?”

The way she lies so easily and believably makes my skin crawl.

“You’ve been let go,” I state coldly. “Time to leave.”

Vivienne, whose cheek is bright red from Romy’s slap, climbs to her feet, hugging her middle. “But I’m good at my job,” she croaks, eyes pleading. “Please. I need this job. Where else will I go?”

“To Hell,” Romy hisses. “People like you go to Hell.”

A flash of irritation sparks in Vivienne’s eyes, but she quickly hides it away. “I truly am sorry if I did anything to offend you all.”

“You’re lucky all you got was a slap,” Romy says, helping Kaitlyn to her feet. “You deserve a lot worse.”

Romy ushers Kaitlyn out of the room and into the bedroom, then slams the door behind her. Vivienne, a woman at least twenty years my senior, bats her lashes at me and gives me her best pitiful expression. It does nothing for her case.

What I want to know is why Dad recommended her to be Kaitlyn’s nanny? She had a good track record, otherwise he wouldn’t have allowed her into our world. Right? Or maybe there’s something more sinister behind his actions.

As much as I want to dissect all this, now’s not the time.

“You remember Romy?” I ask, voice cold. “How long did it go on for? Have there been more?” I grit my teeth. “Kaitlyn?”

The irony isn’t lost on me that I forced Gareth to get a nanny to avoid what’d happened with Emma, only for the nanny to probably have done the same shit to Kaitlyn.

This woman, well-versed on playing the innocent caretaker, shakes her head in vehemence as if my words are offensive to her.

“W-What? I’ve only just met your girlfriend. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Having been in the business of mind control for over a decade, I know people. I know their tells, their lies, their truths, their attempts at manipulation. I know it all. I can read them easily, like one of my beloved books in my office. This woman thinks she’s slick. Now that I’m looking for it, I can see straight through her. She’s nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A snake in my motherfucking garden.

“If you leave now, you’ll save yourself a lot of unnecessary trouble,” I bite out, pointing at the door. “This act of yours won’t work.”

She remains planted in place, her eyes narrowing as she internally weighs her options. Then her lips curl into a frown. I watch, arms crossed over my chest, as she snatches up her purse by the door.

“My clothes?” she asks, refusing to look at me. “They’re in the room.”

The room she was sharing with my damn niece.

“They’ll be at the front desk. You can collect them in the morning. I don’t care where you go for the night, but make sure it’s not within fifty feet of this building.”

“Wow,” she mutters. “After all I’ve seen and put up with in this family. And I’m discarded like trash?”

Her veiled threat that she’ll reveal any secrets of ours she knows goes ignored. Once I deep dive into this woman’s life and finish picking it apart, she won’t be able to find a job ever again,much less with children. She’s finished as far as I’m concerned. Threatening me will only make things worse on her.

She shoulders the strap of her purse, stalking to the door, but stops abruptly to swivel around to face me. “You know,” she spits out in a nasty, cruel tone, “I’d be careful believing the word of a crazy girl.”

I don’t speak, only lift one eyebrow in question.

She purses her lips and then sighs. “Look. Gareth told me all about the poor girl. About how Romy is psychologically unwell. I was told, under no uncertain circumstances, to ever let her within three feet of his daughter. And now you’re sending me away while that woman keeps her locked in that room with his sweet little girl?”

Her attempts at making me doubt Romy are pathetic.

“You know Romy Langston,” I state, watching every tiny twitch of her muscles or any slightest movement of her eyes. “You knew her until you got caught. They sent you away.”

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