Page 39 of Perfect Composition
— Viego Martinez, Celebrity Blogger
“So, how was your weekend in Memphis with Mick and Carly? I’m assuming you got back early,” Carys asks.
“Hardly, or I would have killed someone,” I growl. I’m seething with fury as my security team accesses the closet where my internal recording devices are stored. “My place is trashed.”
The “What?” is screeched so loudly in my ear, I have to pull my phone away to preserve my hearing. “Yeah. There’s booze puddling all over my fucking floors. Art is completely ruined. Only thing that’s not destroyed is the music room, but that’s likely because I have the place locked up like Fort Knox.” I make my way over to the master suite. “Fuckers even went at it in my room,” I call out over my shoulder.
“We’re on it, Becks,” Kane calls out.
“I need to find a place to crash tonight and hire someone to completely redo everything tomorrow.” Then a thought occurs to me. I ask suspiciously, “What did you mean you assumed I got back early?”
“Beckett…”
“Carys, tell me.”
“The ‘party’ at your place was all over social media. Cops were called. You’re getting slapped with a disturbing the peace charge.”
“Are you kidding me? I wasn’t even here!” I shout.
“And we’ll be able to defend that once the security team…” But I stop listening to Carys as Kane comes out shaking his head, eyes blazing in anger.
“You’ve got to be fucking joking, Kane. What did they do? Use a kitchen knife to pick the…” My face flushes when he lifts his arm and my broken Grammy is in his hands. Before he can speak, I grind out, “Are you telling me that whomever was in this place used one of the crowning achievements of my career to smash the keypad lock your team installed on the server room holding the data we need to prosecute them?”
“Yes.” On some level, I appreciate his simple, no-nonsense answer. But it doesn’t cause my fury to abate. If anything, it flames it more.
“I suggest you get building security to figure this out before I call Hudson and get all of you fired for oh, say, gross incompetency?”
Kane frowns. “Someone has to stay with you.”
“Someone has to come with me because I’m sure as hell not staying here. One more minute in this place and I’ll be arrested for murder.”
Carys is silent during this exchange. There’s murmuring on her end of the line before, “Do you want to come here?”
My heart swells with warmth despite the cold fury that wants to take over. “No, honey. But thank you. Tell David thank you as well. I’ll go to a hotel.”
“Come for dinner tonight at least. I have some things I want to discuss with you I don’t want to do over the phone,” she urges.
I’m about to board the elevator to take me back down to the lobby. I stop in my tracks, and Kane almost crashes right into me. “Is it going to piss me off? I’m not sure I can handle much more right now, Carrie.”
“Actually, it might calm you down a bit. Be here at six.” Before I can even agree, she disconnects.
I turn to the lead of my security team. “I’ll be finding a suite of rooms to check into, then heading to the Lennans’ for dinner.”
“Understood. And we will figure out who did this, Becks. That’s a promise.”
“It’d better be.” With a final sweeping glance around my trashed home, I step into the elevator and head down.
I choke on the Scotch Carys poured me earlier. “What do you mean LLF is under investigation?”
A smug little smile crosses her face. She nods at David, who has just entered the room from putting their son, Ben, to bed. “You tell him, honey. You’re the one who noticed the emails.”
David perches on the arm of the chair Carys is sitting in. He reaches past her for his own drink. “How often would you estimate people inquire about the validity of the recommendations on our website?”
I scoff at the idea of someone questioning my recommendation. “Um, never?”
David smiles, probably the first true one he’s ever aimed at my direction. “Actually, slightly more frequently than that. A lot of times it has to do with our clients.”
I put it together quickly. “People trying to use you all to get to us.”
