Focus.
Deacon resumed pacing. “I see you decided to abide by our agreement.”
“I don’t see how I had any choice?”
“Everybody has choices—”
“Not in this case.”
“And you were able to find someone to check in on your father?” He didn’t know why he’d asked except that when he’d first made this proposal, Gabrielle had been quite hesitant to leave her father.
“I have a friend staying with him. Newton just moved back to the area and my father had a spare room. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“I take it you’ve since changed your mind about this Newton.”
Gabrielle hesitated. “Let’s just say I’ve gotten to know him better and he’s not the same as I remembered.”
“I see.” Deacon’s curiosity spiked, but he forced himself to drop the Newton subject. “At least you won’t have to worry about your father.”
Deacon was impressed by her allegiance to her father, but that wouldn’t be enough to sway him to concede. Her father had cost him more than just bad press, a mess in his yard and upset employees—her father had stirred up the paparazzi. Once again, there were news reports on television and the internet. His phone—with its private number—was now receiving calls from journalists wanting “the truth.”
The little sleep he did get was once again riddled with nightmares—fiery, jagged dreams. But when he woke up, the images blurred and the memories receded to the back of his mind. With each dream, he hoped he’d be able to latch on to the elusive truth of what happened on that deadly night. But try as he might, his memory had holes the size of craters and images blurred as if in a dense fog.
The doctors had warned him that the memories might never come back to him. That was not the answer he’d wanted to hear. He needed the truth—even if it meant he was responsible for taking another person’s life. Trying to live with the unknown was a torture that had him k
notted up inside.
“If you would just tell me where to meet you, we can sit down and go over what is expected of me.” Gabrielle’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Of course it is.”
He could hear the confusion in her voice. She wasn’t the first assistant that had been uncomfortable with his distant style of management, but it was the way it had to be. He didn’t need anyone eyeing him with pity. He didn’t deserve anyone feeling sorry for him. It was best for him to keep to the shadows. The accident had left permanent scars on him both inside and out. His career as an actor was over. And he was now struggling to find a new position for himself in the background of Hollywood.
He cleared his throat. “All of your instructions are on your computer. The password is capital B-e-a-c-h.”
“Will you be stopping by the office later?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand—”
“We will conduct our business via the phone or preferably by email.”
“But what if I have papers for you to sign? Or mail. I’m assuming that I’ll be receiving your business correspondence.”
“You will. And if you check next to the interior door, there is a mail slot. Drop whatever correspondence needs my attention in there and I’ll get to it.”
“But that doesn’t seem very efficient. I don’t mind bringing it to you—”
“No!” His voice vibrated with emotion. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. He didn’t want to have to explain himself. After all, he was the boss. In a calmer voice, he said, “This is the arrangement. If you don’t like it, you are free to leave. Our deal will be null and void.”
“And my father?”
“He will face the judge and pay for the trouble he caused.”
“No. I can do this.” Her words were right, but her voice lacked conviction.