Billy & The Beast (Ever After, New York #3) - Eli Easton Page 0,18
was silent. After a moment, he said. “I’ll discuss it with him. Make sure he understands.”
The stranger’s tone softened. “Seb, I’m sorry if I’m coming across as overbearing. I’m just worried about you—as always. And this took me by surprise. You won’t even see a physical therapist in person, and now you have a complete stranger roaming around the property?”
“He doesn’t care about how I look!” Aaron snapped.
There was silence for a moment. I heard shame in Aaron’s words, and the fact that he even felt he had to say such a thing made me ache.
“Well. I suppose the mask helps,” the strange man said at last. “And being paid. How much are you paying him?”
“Not enough to concern you. Or my accountant, for that matter,” Aaron said coolly. “An estate like this takes labor. Do you really think it’s wise to let it fall into complete ruin?”
“Of course not! I offered to hire help for you when you first moved out here,” the man said. “And I’ll handle it now, if you let me. But you need someone trustworthy. Someone discreet.”
“I wasn’t ready then. And I don’t need anyone else right now.”
“Come on, Seb! You need someone older, someone experienced, who understands the importance of discretion. I can have someone we’ve vetted here by Monday.”
My heart sank. He was going to replace me.
“No,” Aaron said stiffly. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ve gotten used to having Billy here. He’s quiet enough that he doesn’t bother me. I don’t want to have to get used to someone new. And he’s doing a good job. Excellent, in fact. Perhaps you noticed that the paint on your car didn’t get scratched trying to make it down the driveway?”
“For God’s sake, Seb! It’s not just about the work. It’s about trust. I can’t trust this random kid.”
“I trust him,” Aaron said, loudly and angrily. “Isn’t that what matters, since I’m the one alone here all the time? Is that even really your issue, Emmanuel? Or is your problem that I did something on my own for once?”
There was a loaded silence. I shifted from one foot to the other, my arms folded defensively against my chest. If this Emmanuel guy had his way I’d be fired, probably today. But Aaron was defending me, and I was grateful for that.
When the stranger—Emmanuel—spoke, his tone was conciliatory. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m thrilled that you’re feeling better enough to be concerned about Malfleur. Of course I am.”
“Then let me make my own decisions about who is on this property with me.”
“Of course. Of course! It’s just . . . you know we can’t afford to have stories about you, photos, getting leaked to the press. It’s not just a matter of your privacy. The only reason you’ve escaped charges is that everyone believes that you’re . . .”
“Half-alive? On life support? A drooling vegetable?” Aaron’s words were bitter.
“Unfortunately, yes. That’s the truth, Seb. And we need to remember that.”
“For God’s sake, I’m not having wild parties. I hired a local gardener.”
“It only takes one slipup, no matter how ignorant the source.” Maybe there was something on Aaron’s face, because Emmanuel continued in a rushed tone. “It’s fine! It’s fine. I can see this is what you want, so we’ll make it work. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Good. That’s even better.” Emmanuel said smoothly. “Though we need a signed NDA. I’ll get you one. Anyway, enough of this topic. I came to see you. How are you feeling, Aaron? You do look better. There’s more color in your face.”
Aaron’s voice softened. “I am feeling better.”
“Mmm. What’s Dr. Winston say?”
“Nothing new. He seems pleased with my progress. Slow as it is.”
“And you’ve been keeping up with your PT?”
“I know you get the reports, Emmanuel.”
There was a chuckle. “Along with a thousand other emails a day, yes.”
“Sorry. I know you’re busy. Yes, I’m keeping up with PT. My limp is improved. It’s probably as good as it’s going to get, Dr. Winston says. Too many bones were broken to avoid it.”
“Well. I suppose limping around doesn’t matter since you’re living out here now.” Emmanuel’s tone sounded patronizing to my ears. “How’s the pain?”
It took a moment for Aaron to answer. “Tolerable. I try not to take the Vicodin. I’m down to once a week or so.”
“Seb, if you need painkillers, take them. Don’t try to be brave.”
Aaron didn’t answer.
“What about your memory? Have you had anything come back at all? From around the