Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 90(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 90(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
“Et tu, Patti?”
She just shrugged and started typing.
“I’m surrounded by crazy people,” I grumbled with a shake of my head as I brushed past Thatcher into my office. “Enlighten me,” I said to him as I took a seat at my glass desk, my back to the spectacular view of the Upper Bay and the Statue of Liberty.
“You seriously didn’t expect me to put up a fight when you foisted the Benson account on me?”
“Mr. Benson is one of our biggest clients, Thatch”—I leaned back in my chair and looked him straight in the eye—"He needs the best of the best, and that’s you.”
Thatcher’s gray eyes, so much like my own, narrowed. “Don’t bullshit me, bro. You just don’t want to deal with his vapid wife.”
I shrugged and picked up a silver pen from the desktop to fiddle with. “Maybe it’s both.”
“She’s already sent me five texts this morning, called twice, and emailed about setting up a ‘private’ appointment.” He walked to my desk and bent over so our faces were level. “I get why you did it. I know you don’t want her showing up in the lobby and causing drama while Blair is in the building.” I glanced at the open door to my office, then back to Thatcher frowning in warning. My brother and I were only a year apart and had always been close. We were best friends, and he was the only one who knew about my obsession with Blair. I wanted to keep it that way. He nodded in acknowledgment and lowered his voice. “But, pawning that succubus off on me?” Thatcher furrowed his brow and scowled. “You owe me big time, bro.”
“I do,” I agreed. My immediate capitulation seemed to un-bunch his panties, and the tension left his body.
He slumped down into one of the chairs across from me and put his feet up on my desk. “She starts today?”
I nodded, attempting to appear calm and unruffled, but the pen tapping a fast rhythm on the glass betrayed my agitated state.
Thatcher dropped his feet and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers. His expression was dead serious. “You have to stay away,” he said quietly.
Irrational anger streaked through me, but I managed to keep a damper on it. I opened the center drawer and tossed the pen inside with more force than was necessary. “I know.”
* * *
Unable to resist another minute, I picked up my phone and swiped to open it. Then I found the app I was looking for and loaded it.
The daycare had several mounted cameras that allowed me to keep an eye on Blair while she was there. But, I’d worked out a curriculum with the instructor for her practicum that also required her to use a new app that was becoming standard in the industry. It was a real-time app that allowed the teachers to have instant access to medical history and other notes, as well as reminders and notifications from the parents. Parents could receive screenshots and video throughout the day, even using the app to request a photo or video update.
Blair had been given a phone—one I’d provided that allowed me to keep track of her location. Theoretically, so that I would worry less about her safety. However, while it helped a little, I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until I was personally seeing to her safety.
The app was another tool to help me keep from doing something stupid. I’d made sure it came already installed and set up on her phone. Blair was instructed to use it throughout the day to keep a sort of video diary, especially while she was working in the daycare. I was sure she assumed the information was going to her professor, but I was the only one who had access to her app.
I was excited to see that she’d already uploaded a couple of videos, some notes, and screenshots. I went through them over and over until I had them memorized.
When my alarm went off at six, I closed the app and woke up the screen on my computer. After a few clicks, I was staring at the series of camera feeds in the daycare. They closed at six, so the last of the parents would be picking up their children.
Blair was standing by a window cradling a baby boy, no more than six months old, and swaying from side to side. She was cuddling him, once again reminding me of a sweet little bunny. She looked so natural and at ease. The expression on her face was practically blissful. I imagined it was a hint of the way she would look when I made her come.
A woman walked into the room and called to Blair, who turned around and smiled. If it were anyone but me, they might not have noticed that her smile was off. I leaned in and studied her more intently, anxious to know what was upsetting my girl.