She glances at me from the corner of her eyes, lips pursed as she shakes her head.
“With all due respect, I’d rather not,” she says. “I relive those moments every single day. Besides, everything you need to know should be in the court order. I behaved recklessly a couple of months ago, and it was completely out of character for me. My stepmother’s psychiatrist thinks I’m unstable enough to harm myself. And to damage the future of my estate. So Justice Harcourt ordered that I’m not fit to manage my finances at this time, and now here we are.”
“I’m not interested in what they think.” My statement captures her attention, and her body shifts in line with mine. “I want to know your version of everything. I’m in your corner, Serena. Everything you tell me stays between us. I can’t do my job properly unless I have all the facts.”
Serena is quiet, and I sense contemplation in her bright blues. “All you have to do is manage my estate, counselor. You don’t need facts. You need a budget.”
Before I can offer my rebuttal, she yawns, rises, and pulls her robe tight around her.
“I’m sorry, Derek. I’m exhausted.” Serena forces a polite smile. “I assume you were only wanting to introduce yourself today? Perhaps you can come by another time, and we can have a more in-depth conversation about my finances. In the meantime, let Eudora or Thomas know what you need, and I’ll be sure they pass it along to your office.”
Eudora glides out from around the corner where she’d been lurking and hooks Serena by the elbow to guide her away.
“Come, Ms. Randall. Let’s get you back to bed where you belong.” Eudora whispers but speaks loud enough that I hear her.
A heaviness settles in the pit of my stomach as I watch them leave.
“Serena,” I call out.
She stops, turning toward me. “Yes?”
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Will you be home?”
“Tomorrow’s a Saturday. You work on Saturdays?” Her left brow arches.
“Not generally.”
“I don’t want you billing my trust for frivolous weekend hours.” She stands straight.
“This is on the house,” I say.
Her nose scrunches. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m making you a priority,” I say, glancing at Eudora. “My number one priority.”
Eudora tugs Serena’s arm, and they move a step further.
“I want to make sure you have everything you could possibly need as soon as possible,” I add before she gets too far away.
My gaze moves between her curious stare and Eudora’s disapproving snarl.
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock,” I say.
Our eyes lock in the dark, and I swear I see her lips twitch into a flicker of a half-smile. Or maybe I’m imagining it.
“I’ll be expecting you.”
Chapter 2
Serena
“He was nice to look at, wasn’t he?” I settle into my four-poster bed as Eudora fluffs the pillows behind me. It’s not like I need her to. I’m not helpless. But she likes taking care of me. She always insists. “I mean, he has arrogant lawyer written all over him and I think he’s allergic to smiling, but he was nice enough.”
Eudora’s face is pinched. She’s keeping her opinion from me.
“Come on,” I say, pulling the covers into my lap. I love to tease her because she can be incredibly uptight. “Be honest.”
“There’s no denying he’s a handsome man. But if I’m being honest, I didn’t think too highly of him.” Her words are rushed and her eyes won’t meet mine. She points to the lamp on my bedside table, and I nod. Clicking it off, she glances around the rest of the room.
“Any particular reason?” I bait her.
Eudora stops fussing and flitting about, rests her palms along her sides, and exhales from thin, red lips. Her gray eyes find mine in the darkness, and her round face tilts to the side.
“I’m just protective of you. That’s all.” She clucks her tongue. “Some tall, dark, and handsome lawyer in a fancy suit waltzes in here, and you’re lonely and heartbroken and well-to-do, and to me, that just creates a recipe for the unspeakable. You’re not like other girls, Serena. I’ve been telling you that your entire life. You can’t be too careful. You have to guard yourself against men like him.”
Men like him.
We both know she’s referring to my ex-fiancé. I don’t know Mr. Rosewood yet, but I know enough to assure her he’s nothing like Keir Montgomery.
“You’re sweet to worry like that.” I sink back into the carefully arranged feather pillows behind me. Eudora has been with our family since I was eight, the year my mother passed. “But I was only appreciating his looks, not sizing him up as a potential husband.”
At times, Eudora’s been the closest thing I’ve had to a mother. And that’s why it pains me to look into her eyes and refuse to offer her an ounce of my trust. Veronica has her on speed dial, and I’m absolutely positive Eudora keeps a record of my daily goings-on and reports back. She’s nothing more than an extra set of eyes and ears—a dutiful minion with a paycheck.
But I can’t blame her. She needs this job, and Veronica pays her generously.
My father is approaching his late eighties and losing his mind one marble at a time. The day he married Veronica three years ago, she took over managing his staff and gave them all generous pay raises and additional holidays and vacation allowances.