Page 60 of Unlocked

That was ten years ago. Gramps had been dead for six of them. There was no reason left to stay. Until now, there'd been no particular reason to go either. Recently, she’d decided she would see the Ponzi scheme case through, help the people who'd gotten screwed, and then she was done. Out of New York. There was a big, wide world out there, and she was going to find her place in it. Florence, maybe. She'd minored in art in college and had loved the city since the first time she'd visited. Or Ireland. She'd had her astrocartography chart done once, and it had said Ireland was the ideal place for her. Maybe it was time to let the stars guide her since she didn’t appear to be doing such a great job on her own.

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, and immediately her mind went back to Archer. The way he'd looked at her in the alley outside the club, shaken in a way she'd never seen him before, and then the kiss that had followed and the words that came with it.

She needed to get her head straight. Whatever had happened last night, whatever that was between them, it couldn't change the reality of her situation. She was staying at the Society as a matter of safety, not because she and Archer were anything to each other. Last night had been a collision of adrenaline, fear, and relief. Nothing more.

She almost believed it.

Her cell rang. She glanced at the screen.

Bunny.

She'd been avoiding her mother for over twenty-four hours. Never a good thing. Sighing, she answered. "Mother."

"Tatum. I've been trying to reach you all weekend."

"I know. Josh made that very clear."

Her mother paused as if that wasn't the answer she'd expected. Then she continued, "I need you to come into the office today."

"I’m working on something."

"Tatum, it's very important you come in. Your father and I wish to speak to you."

Tatum's patience snapped. "I'm not coming in so I can get lectured. Forget it. I'm going to pursue the case against Kelly, Lebowitz, and North. People deserve to get their money back if they can, and I'm going to do my best to make that happen. Being lectured to by you and Dad isn't going to change anything."

"That's not what we want to talk to you about, Tatum." Her mother's voice was ice. She was enunciating very clearly, which was never a good sign.

Tatum hesitated. "Then what is it?"

"Come into the office."

Click.

The line went dead. Mother's way or the highway. Always, always her way, at least with Tatum. She stared at the phone. Part of her was tempted to say screw it and skip the whole thing. But her father wanted her there too, and that changed the calculus entirely.

On the outside, Stuart Wellington was an affable man. Everyone loved him. Warm handshake, easy smile, a kind man who remembered your name and your kids' names and what you drank at parties. He was charming and generous and universally well-liked, and he had worked very hard to make sure it stayed that way.

On the inside, Stuart Wellington was something else entirely.

Nobody stepped out of line in Stuart's world. Not if Stuart didn't want them to. Tatum had learned that early. Stepping out of line had consequences. Not physical, never physical. Stuart was far too controlled for anything so obvious. He had other methods, quieter ones, and they were somehow more devious. Commentary delivered in a reasonable voice that made you feel like you were disappearing. A withdrawal of warmth so gradual you almost didn't notice until it was gone. The way he could look at you across a room and make you feel like you'd already lost.

She contemplated skipping the meeting. Her stomach turned at the thought of going. But if she skipped, her father would come after her, and that was worse. It was always easier to just show up.

Truth be told, she was afraid of him. She'd been lucky. He'd never really asked her to do anything too egregious, and he hadn't come down too hard on her for the stupid things she'd done as a teenager. But she'd watched what he'd done to people who refused him. He'd dismantled them systematically, taking their lives apart piece by piece in ways that could never quite be traced back to him. She had no desire to experience that firsthand. Being his daughter wouldn't save her from it. If anything, it would make it more thorough.

Bunny had not been so fortunate as to avoid Stuart's disapproval over the years. Tatum was quite sure it was one of the reasons her mother was so relentlessly hard on her. Bunny had to let the rage out somewhere, and she didn't dare aim it at Stuart.

Tatum sighed. She was going to have to go.

She pulled on a long-sleeved top and made her way out of the Society, pausing for just a moment at the door. She thought about Archer, about whether he was already up and working, about whether last night had shifted anything for him the way it had for her. She pushed the thought away firmly. Focus.

Once she arrived home, she paused at her apartment door. The gratitude hit her the same way it had the first time she'd seen it restored. Everything exactly as it should be, calm and whole and untouched. She really did need to thank Archer properly. Every time she tried to figure out how, her mind went somewhere she wasn't prepared to follow yet.

She grabbed a quick shower, pulled on a navy pantsuit with a silk blouse underneath, and headed to the office.

"Hi, Carol," she said as she strolled past the receptionist’s desk.

"I'll let your parents know you're here," Carol called after her.