What Sam really wanted to know was how much of Vivianne’s fear was paranoia, and how much was real, substantial enough that Sam needed to be alert to the dangers.
The matriarch huffed, her puffy sweater squishing around her neck and making her aged face rounder than before. Sam detected the lines and spots of advanced years. While she knew Vivianne was close to sixty, some women—be it with good genetics, money, or both—hid it well. But when that woman was beaten down? Afraid? Espousing motherly concern for her child’s well-being? Sam saw the genuine worry crowning Vivianne’s flawless face. It aged her at least twenty years.
“I am not comfortable getting into the details. Not now.” Vivianne’s hand trembled slightly as she took a sip of her wine. “But I understand the position you’re in, Ms. Reddy. What I’m about to tell you is just between us… as in, you cannot tell my daughters, especially not Bianca. Don’t even tell those nice young men who have been following the rest of the family around.”
“Of course not. If you want to tell me something, confidence is guaranteed. Anything that helps me do my job is welcomed.”
Vivianne sighed, deflating into her sweater. “There’s someone. Someone who is out to destroy our family. Who is obsessed with… us.”
“A stalker?”
Vivianne’s shoulders tensed. “I’m hesitant to call them that. All you need to know is that this person has money and power of their own. The things they are capable of…”
A shudder rolled through her. She fortified herself with more wine.
“This person holds a grudge against us,” she continued. “While my husband has left the family’s security to me so he can focus on his work, he cares about the safety of our daughters as well. They are not mere assets to us, Ms. Reddy. I don’t know what any of my daughters may have told you, but I do love them, deeply. I would be absolutely… if something happened to them… I can’t even say it. I’m sure you’re aware of what constitutes a parent’s greatest nightmare, even if you’re not a mother yourself. It runs deeper than fear for myself and my husband. I would give up my life in a minute to save any of my daughters. Even Parker.”
Her lips trembled, but she remained strong. If this was an act, it was a very good one. And not just because if it was an act, Vivianne would have had the presence of mind to not disparage her middle child like that.
Still, Sam couldn’t help but feel like Vivianne was hiding something. Something important.
“I hope you now understand my concerns,” Vivianne said. “Perhaps I’m being paranoid. I’m sure my daughters have suggested it, but they don’t know the truth. When I say there’s a credible threat, please believe me. I’m hoping it will blow over soon—that I will find a way to deal with it myself and put this all behind us. In the meantime, swear to me that you will take care of my daughter as if she were your own. I love all of my daughters, but Bianca has… special concerns. She is the least capable of taking care of herself out of all three of them, and it’s not only because of her youth. Even at that age, Scarlett would have known who to call, and Parker would… I don’t know. Run them over with one of her blasted cars!”
Sam nodded, maintaining her carefully composed demeanor. “I understand. Regardless of the threat or who I’m protecting, I treat every job as if it’s of the utmost importance.”
Her mind wandered to her last solo job. The diplomat’s daughter. Rosalie…
That frightened face flashed before her eyes. Two seconds later, it was Bianca’s face instead.
“There is something you should know, Mrs. Black. Something that I’ve already brought to the attention of my team.”
Vivianne stiffened. “What’s happened? Tell me.”
“A couple of days ago, I was driving Bianca home from the mall. She wanted to go shopping.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“I noticed a car that appeared to be following us. I took the long route home to ensure we were in fact being followed, and not once did the car let up. Not until I enacted some maneuvers to lose them before we returned to the parking garage downstairs. I’m convinced that I didn’t imagine things.”
“What was the make and model of this car?”
Vivianne’s quick interrogation inspired Sam to take the situation even more seriously. Clearly, the woman knew more than she was letting on. “A silver Subaru. Sedan. Something that usually stays under the radar around here, but the driver was wearing baggy dark clothes and sunglasses. I couldn’t make out if they were male or female. Like I said, I’ve informed security to be on the lookout.”
Vivianne nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Does that description sound familiar to you at all?”
Vivianne didn’t answer directly. “You did the right thing.” She was in her own world, calculating risk assessments in the same way Sam would. “Please continue to treat such incidents as credible threats. This gives me more confidence in your company’s work.”
“I’m glad to hear it. If you can think of anything that I should know, absolutely do not hesitate, Mrs. Black. There is no such thing as too much information.”
Sam nodded. Vivianne rose from her seat. Taking the cue that the meeting was over, Sam said goodbye and showed herself out of the room.
However, as she approached the front foyer of the penthouse, she heard Vivianne’s voice floating from behind her.
“And remember, Ms. Reddy. I’m the one writing your checks. Not Bianca.”
Sam pretended she hadn’t heard a thing as she continued to the door. She was not playing Vivianne Black’s power games. Not because she’d lose. But because her rule of not letting her emotions get in the way of her job also applied to clients who rubbed her wrong.