Page 157 of Slumming It
"Come from money?" He gave another shrug. "Call it good P.R."
"As in public relations?" It was all too crazy to contemplate. "So you made it up?"
"Me? No." He smirked. "That wasn'tmybrain-child. But hey, it's a good story, right?"
Judging from his expression, he didn't find the story good at all, and I had the distinct impression that those rumors bothered him more than he was letting on.
As I tried to process everything I'd just learned, snippets of earlier conversations drifted through my mind. But it was one particular conversation that had me rethinking everything.
I searched his face. "A few weeks ago, you told me that you came here to see friends."
"No," he said in that overly patient voice that I absolutely loathed. "I told you that Ihadno friends, not inthistown."
And just like that, everything clicked. "You were talking about my family, weren't you?" When he answered with only a shrug, I refused to let it drop. My voice trembled with righteous indignation. "You told me your former friends were dead."
"No. I said they were gone – which they are."
Vivian's warnings echoed in my mind.He's trying to isolate you.I heard myself say, "And they're gone because of you."
"Is that a question?"
"Yeah, I guess it is. Wereyouthe one who hired them for that painting job?" It was the only explanation that made sense. The job had come up suddenly just after Reese had rolled into town. And thanks to Vivian, I already knew that Reese's company owned that particular hotel. "Youdidhire them, didn't you?"
"Directly? No."
"But you made it happen."
When Reese didn't deny it, I said, "I don't get it. Why would you hire them at all?" Desperately, I tried to think of a motive that wouldn't make him a cold, calculating bastard. "Were you trying to do them a favor or something?"
This made him chuckle and not in a jolly way.
With growing dread, I asked, "What's so funny?"
"You," he said. "Still thinking I'm a nice guy."
"Well, itwasnice." I bit my lip. "Wasn't it?"
"Hell, yeah," he said. "It was nice to have them out of town."
Once again, I searched for a kinder explanation. My family was having a terrific time, so his motives couldn’t becompletelyterrible. I asked, "But…why?"
"You can't guess?"
I could. I just didn't want to."Actually, I'm not sure I want to hear it."
"You don't want to hear what?" he said with a cold laugh. "That I thought it would be a boatload of fun to torment the precious daughter theysaidI assaulted?"
Even from a few feet away, I could practically feel his anger, seeping into the air like noxious poison. "Sothat'swhy you came here? To torment me?"
"No, you were just a bonus."
I'd been called a lot of things in my life, but neverthat. "A bonus?"
"Sure. An add-on to my original plans."
I wasn't sure what was worse – being called a bonus or an add-on. "So whydidyou come here?"
"At first? To check out the hotel."
