Page 12 of Stripped

She looked away as she sat back down, trying to hide her face and the look of horror she knew must be on it. "Why should I believe you? If that were the case, the police would have been able to determine that also."

"I was right about your director."

"Just because he's out sick, doesn't mean he put something in my drink." She bit her lip as the doubt she felt grew. He'd never missed a day of work.

"I called around. He went to A&E last night. He wasn't released until this morning. They pumped his stomach."

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. Appalled, was the simplest way to describe how she felt, add to that shocked, disgusted and shaken. Peter was more than her boss. The company was her family, especially now with the death of her grandfather. There was more than just her career on the line. She wasn't sure what to say. She used the silence to hide her growing unease as she studied the man before her for the first time. Had her grandfather really hired him, she wondered. His short brown hair was perfectly groomed along with his close-clipped beard, not much more than a shadow on his strong jaw. A straight nose and green eyes finished out a handsome face. It was obvious he worked out, and the tailored black suit he wore still managed to look crisp, even though he'd slept in it. He had money. The waiter came back with their food, setting their plates in front of them. She was glad for the reprieve, for she found Robert Wraith to be a tad intimidating.

She picked up her knife and fork, stabbing into the runny yolk of her egg as it burst forth onto her plate. It looked like a duck. It was a game she used to play with her father when she was young. He told her every egg contained its own pattern, you just had to look for it. She swirled it around on her plate, no longer hungry. Wraith, on the other hand, ate with vigor as he cut into a sausage, finishing it in two bites. She set down her cutlery. "How do you think I can help you?"

He wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Your grandfather thought the threat was coming from his inner circle, a business associate perhaps.

"So, I don't know any of them."

"Yes, but this would have been someone he knew personally, someone close. Someone who will be at his funeral or the reading of his will."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I need a way in."

"A way in? You fucking want to use me as your way in while I'm trying to deal with all of this?" She set her napkin down. "Hell no."

"Primrose, I don't want to use you. I want to work with you, and I want to protect you. It's what your grandfather wanted."

"It's Pim. No one calls me Primrose." She shook her head. "And I don't need your protection. My grandfather is dead, and as far as I'm concerned, your services are no longer needed. If it's money you're looking for, I'll make sure his solicitor compensates you for anything you're owed."

"This isn't about money," he said. "Let me go with you this afternoon to the viewing. If anyone asks, we can say we're dating, that we met through the ballet and orchestra."

Now she really laughed. "Fuck no." She didn't want to think of her dead grandfather anymore. What she wanted, was for this nightmare to be over. She wanted to be in rehearsal, where she could go numb and forget this weekend ever happened. She wanted a director who wouldn't drug her so he could sleep with her. She wanted to be dancing her role with her partner Paul, not Catriona. She wanted a mother who would fly out and help her. But she had none of those things. Instead, she was all alone. "What do I get out of all of this?"

"You seem like the type of girl who would want to know the truth."

"You don't know what type of girl I am."

"I know you're strong," he said, his green eyes unwavering.

Her bottom lip began to tremble. She wasn't strong. She'd just built her wall so high, few people ever saw over it. "I'll need more than an empty platitude."

He pushed his empty plate to the side and leaned forward. "I know you didn't cause Irina's accident."

She shook her head, drained. "There's no proof. People are going to believe what they want to believe. Anyway, what if it was my grandfather?"

"I was watching your grandfather the night before and the next day. He didn't go near the studios."

"Watching?" she questioned.

"Guarding. Protecting. Whatever you want to call it."

"He could have paid someone to do it?"

"He didn't. I've looked at the CCTV film. No one came or left the building except for company members."

"That doesn't clear my name."

"No, but you were late that day. You wouldn't have had time."

A small bit of relief washed over her, knowing her grandfather wasn't involved. It wasn't that she believed the rumors, but doubt had a way of sneaking in and festering. She knew her grandfather had a reputation and she had been careful not to listen to the negative biases of those who spoke against him, only focusing on the good. If he was murdered, then whoever did it deserved to be brought to justice. "Fine," she said quickly, not wanting to cry in front of him. She didn't need him chipping away at her fortress anymore.

"Good girl."

The waiter brought their check. Wraith pulled his American Express black card out of his wallet and handed it to the young man. "Let's come up with a plan."

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