The Mechanic - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,60

nonsense!” Trudy’s voice calls out from the gathering.

George’s eyes bulge. “I am talking about them. Everyone knows the rich are the favorite puppets of the Illuminati.”

“For God’s sake. Stand aside, you idiot!” Trudy marches to the bench. When he refuses to get down, she whacks him in the backs of his knees with her walking stick. There’s a commotion as George falls, and Gage rushes into the crowd to help him to his feet and keep him from lunging at the old woman.

She rolls her eyes at the struggling man. “Right. Let’s talk about what we can do. Does anyone know any lawyers?”

With Gage distracted, I take my opportunity to slip through. I wish someone would notice the plan in my heart and drag me back. There’s no way I won’t do this, not with everyone’s livelihoods at stake. I force myself not to look for Gage, because if I do I’ll lose my nerve.

It’s only minutes until I’m face to face with that gargantuan colonial mansion that seems so out of place here. Amazingly, there’s no eviction notice on the white door. Was this the only building that managed to pass their seal of approval, or was it because they needed a place to stay?

I don’t want to do this.

Bodyguards flanking the premises accost me before I can walk up the long driveway. Gritting my teeth, I turn to one of them. “I’m here to see Mrs. Cranbury.”

“She’s out,” he says, the sun gleaming on his bald head.

“Tell Mark that Olivia is here.”

He nods, murmuring something in his walkie-talkie before I’m waved through. Nausea whirls inside me as I climb the steps, determined to find a way out of this. There has to be a way to save the town and stay with Gage. My traitorous body wants me to flee as I lift my hand to the door and knock.

You can still leave.

Before I make a decision, a white-gloved butler waves me into the giant foyer. A butler. Really? I almost forgot Mark’s tendency for excess. Mark always had people to do every minor inconvenient task for him. There was a guy who doubled as a bodyguard and door opener, there was a guy to push his luggage, a girl to run errands like picking up toothpaste at Walgreens, someone to clean his apartment, oh, and cook for him, and there were assistants for his assistants. And this was all because Mark was far too busy to do anything on his own. He was helping manage an empire. He literally had no time to fold his clothes and wash his dishes. So all those tasks fell to me or the Help.

Mark walks down the sweeping staircase in a dramatic descent, wearing the smuggest grin I’ve ever seen. The fact that he’s dressed in a brown plaid suit momentarily robs me of breath. A forest-green shirt peeks out from his collar.

“You look ridiculous. Are you going to an ugly suit convention?”

He sweeps his sleek hair to the side, the grin never fading. “You didn't have a problem with how I dressed before.”

“We’re in the middle of a forest and you’re wearing that. In July.”

A callous gaze flicks down and up my outfit of knee-length shorts, plastic flip-flops, and a t-shirt. “Speak for yourself. Letting ourselves go, are we? That’s not going to do at all when we’re back together.”

I suck in my bottom lip. “I’m not getting back together with you.”

“Oh, you didn’t come here to stop me from annexing this village into the next Cranbury resort?” He smiles knowingly. “Then you’ll have to start by submitting to a paternity test—now. Step two and three will be moving in with me and drawing up divorce papers with my lawyer.”

No.

“You can’t be this petty.”

He purses his lips. “I call it protecting what’s mine.”

“At the expense of hundreds of people’s jobs and homes? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He approaches me, and I take a step back out of sheer disgust. “Your relationship with Mr. Carter ends today. You’ll move in with me, and then I’ll call the doctor to do the paternity test. It’s really simple, Olivia. If you want to stop me from reducing this entire town into a heap, you’ll do what I want.”

He’ll do it. I just have to look into his worthless eyes to see the truth blazing out at me. “What happens when the results come back weeks later, and the baby isn’t yours?”

“Then you’ll give the baby up for adoption,” he grinds out.

Is

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