Page 30 of The Scarab's Game
“You interrupted my meeting for that?”
“I was looking over some operational details this morning and noticed the change in the hotel rooms. Not just a change”—she took a deep, intentional breath, designed to convey how angry she was—“but the addition of a whole new suite.”
Were there cameras in this room? Recording devices? It would make sense from a security standpoint to ensure no one walked off with anything. But it wouldn’t make sense from a customer service standpoint. Which one was more important?
Jean-Philippe allowed me to stay in the room by myself, so I expected there was some sort of monitoring device.
I had to keep my cool and not reveal anything. “He insisted.”
“I don’t like this, Em.” Of course, she didn’t. Rav had warned me Scarlett would be pissed. At least she hadn’t flown to Monaco to deliver that message.
I strolled across the room, toward a four-foot-tall Impressionist painting. Boats on the water at sunset. The painting was so serene—I had to absorb some of that quality. “We had to do something.”
“Somethingwould have been putting her up with Jayce.”
“She tried, and it was a no-go.”
Scarlett was quiet for a moment, no doubt scrunching her toes in her shoes to discharge her pent-up emotions. She’d likely said all the same things to Rav. To keep the peace—the big man was always trying to do that—he probably also explained why, tactically, it was a better choice for Jenn to stay with me.
“You may not have cared, but you really screwed her over when we were kids. Don’t you dare pull that shit again.”
I threw my head back as if I could find more serenity written on the ceiling than in the painting. I’d never told anyone what really happened with Jenn’s dad.
Scarlett had thrown her anger at me back then, and I’d taken it. What other choice was there? Repeat Mr. Thatcher’s words? Tell my sister I wasn’t good enough? Tell her thatshewasn’t good enough to be Jenn’s friend? Blame our father for everything? He’d been in prison for five years already when Jenn and I…
Deep breath.
My sister had always treated me like an irresponsible child, even after I grew out of it—or most of it. The rest of the team appreciated that I stood up to her behind closed doors when she was being unreasonable, but none of them realized how much I kept bottled up.
What was the last thing she said to me before I flew to New York and was kidnapped?
Right.
She’d said,‘Don’t get arrested.’
“Eloise,” I drawled, using her cover name, which she’d used for the call display. “You’re overreacting. I have an excellent team backing me up, and we have everything well in hand.”
“Two. Separate. Rooms.”
I meandered along the wall to the next painting. Similar to the first, but with grass and people standing about. “I wouldn’t take advantage. You don’t need to worry.”
We didn’t have conversations like normal siblings. She knew where I was and what I was doing. Knew I had to keep my words measured in case someone was nearby. She knew I’d be smiling while seething underneath. While I knew she was in her office because she wouldn’t let anyone hear the hint of anger and disappointment in her voice.
“Emmett.”
“Eloise?”
She let out another slow breath. “Brie can’t find any record of the scarab in the inventory.”
If they’d sold it, there’d be a paper trail. “None? Not even a sales history?”
“No. And Jayce and Drew came up empty at Massimo’s.”
“Our buyer could be mistaken?” I suggested.
Scarlett and I had argued about this trip to Monte Carlo almost daily since she confessed her conniving ex was the one who gave her the tip. Rav and Malcolm—Scarlett’s boyfriend—both suspected it was a trap. They thought Noah was luring her to town so he could grab her.
Otherwise, she and Mal would have joined us.