Enamoured (Escape Fantasy Romance) (3 page)

She tightened her lips. She’d told him repeatedly not to call her that annoying pet name.

“Rumpelstiltskin will be your backup on this case.” Matilda held up a hand to forestall Esmerelda’s objections. “He is on work release, Esmerelda. He has to learn to help the humans, instead of…well, instead of what he did last time. He’s already established a cover with the princess, so he can get you in. Now, off you go.” Matilda waved them toward the door.

Esmerelda turned and stalked out of the G.F.C. office.

Fungus.

Melanie swept into the real estate office, removing her sunglasses so that she could see inside the darkened interior. She quickly scanned the office. Her boss must be out to lunch. She frowned. It wasn’t normally like him to leave the office unattended.

She hurried over to her desk and sat down. She was up to date with her work, and she only had a couple of letters to type before the end of the day. She had time to check what was on the flash drive. Her mobile phone rang inside her purse, and she glanced at the screen. She didn’t recognise the number, so she ignored it. Just in case it was The Village People calling.

She pulled the flash drive out of the side pocket of her bag and shoved the handbag under her desk. Keeping an eye on the front door, she pulled the lid off the drive, but halted short of inserting it into the computer. She looked at the empty space there and frowned. Where was it? She twisted the base of the container. Nothing came out.

She looked inside. It was—empty. What the hell? Her eyes widened, and she twisted the container again, hoping the plug would mysteriously appear. Only it didn’t. Melanie’s breath whistled through her lips. Oh, God, she was going to puke.

She turned the container upside down and shook it. That didn’t work either.

Perspiration dotted her lip. Where was it? Oh, God, had it fallen out at the site? She wrapped her arms around her midriff. Oh, hell. She’d lost it. She rocked in her chair. Damn it. All that effort, Lionel touching her… She stood up and paced away from her desk. Oh, hell, oh, hell. She searched her pockets, then her handbag, dumping everything on to her desk and fumbling through the contents. Nothing.

She’d lost the drive.

Hands on her hips, she turned and walked away, then back to her desk. Stopped. No, it can’t be. She couldn’t be that unlucky. She thought about having Lionel as a stepfather. Okay, that was unlucky, but—come on! She needed a break. She went back to pacing.

What was she going to do? She returned to her computer, opened up a word processing document, and started typing what she could remember of the addresses. She grimaced. She’d only glanced at them quickly, and Fairy Meadow wasn’t an area she was familiar with. What was Lionel planning to do down there?

She knew her stepfather, probably a lot better than he thought she did. She knew he was as crooked as a corkscrew. If she could find the proof, though, she could confront him, make him go away. Hopefully far, far away. Or, if not, then at least she’d be able to get her poor mother away from his influence.

She leaned back in her chair. Okay, so she’d lost the drive. She’d gotten the information once, she could do it again. Her stomach heaved at the thought of putting herself in Lionel’s reach.

Since he’d met her mother, he’d always stared at her. He’d hugged her at every opportunity. She’d tried to run away when she’d heard they were getting married. Unfortunately, at fourteen, she’d run to a friend’s place, whose mother had called her mother. She still remembered the talk with her mum, the tears, the promises to never run away again. She also remembered the talk with Lionel, that night in her room, after her mother had taken her ‘medicine’ and fallen asleep.

He’d threatened to hurt her mother if she ever tried any of that shit again. She was his kid, now, and she had to learn to behave. And if she resisted, he was more than willing to discipline her. She shuddered at the memory. Lionel was clever, though. He always stopped a fraction shy of what others would consider inappropriate. But Melanie was now twenty-six, and not so easily threatened. She still lived at home, although she hated it. Her fear, though, was what Lionel would do to her mother if she moved out. She wasn’t stupid, she knew Lionel knew, and he was manipulating her, but she wasn’t ready to leave her mother alone with Lionel.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away. She squared her shoulders. She was a Rhys, not a Lowry. She would ultimately win. She could take care of herself, she’d made sure of that. Lionel didn’t know of the self-defence lessons she’d taken over the years. If push came to shove, she could shove back. Hard. But she wasn’t the one in immediate danger.

If she could find information on Lionel, something that proved he was the toad she knew him to be, she could convince her mother to leave Lionel, so that her mother could finally find her independence. She’d help her kick her addiction to the painkillers, the ones that sapped her energy, her will—her sense. And then they could live in peace, without fear.

She just needed a break. She’d go search his office again. She’d search at home. She would keep searching until she found something that she could use against her stepfather. And hopefully she’d find it before he figured out what she was doing.

The door to the office opened, and Randall Stilson, her employer, shuffled in. He was nearly seventy-two years old, and not ready to retire. Melanie couldn’t quite understand how he managed to still run his own business, but, well, he did.

A woman, seemingly close to his age, followed behind him, and Melanie rose from her desk, a genuine smile on her face.

“Hi, Randall.”

Randall waved, taking small steps to turn around and close the door after the woman. “Hello, Melanie. I had to duck out and meet my wife at the bank. I hope I wasn’t gone too long.” He had a slight accent that she still wasn’t quite able to place.

“But I—no, everything is fine.” He had been in the office when she’d left. She’d explained that she was popping out for lunch, and was going to take pictures of a new property on their books—but he must have forgotten, the dear.

“I want to introduce you to my wife,” he said, and put his arm around the woman’s waist, hustling her forward. The woman twittered behind her hand, shaking off his arm before meeting Melanie’s gaze. “This is Esme, my other half.”

“Your better half, dear,” Esme said as she extended her hand to Melanie. “I’m pleased to meet you, Melanie. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Melanie shook her hand politely, finding the old-fashioned greeting charming. “I’m so pleased to meet you, too. Can I get you something to drink? A coffee?”

Esme shook her head. “Oh, no thanks. I don’t touch that stuff.” She crossed over to one of the waiting chairs and sat down, pulling some knitting from her tote bag.

Randall muttered something about dandelion wine as he shuffled into the kitchen at the rear of the office. “Esme will be joining us in the office this afternoon. She’s…at a loose end. Did you take the photos, Melanie?”

“Uh, yes, I did.” She’d pulled in very quickly, taken a few snaps, then hopped back into the car to get to work—and to see what she’d saved onto the drive. Damn it. “I’m just about to do up the sales flyers. What is the advertised price you want to put on it?”

Randall stuck his head out of the kitchen, and blinked owlishly at her. The man had brown eyes that, despite his age, still seemed as vibrant and mischievous as ever. “What do you think is a good price?”

Melanie sat down at her desk. “You know I can’t do that Randall. You’re the agent, you have to set the price.”

“Okay, maybe eight hundred.”

Melanie glanced over her shoulder. “It’s on Marine Parade, Randall.”

Randall nodded. “Okay, maybe seven hundred.”

Melanie shook her head.

“Nine hundred?”

Melanie frowned.

Randall beamed at her, and wagged his finger. “A-ha, I told you Esme, this is a bright girl, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did, Randall,” Esme said, not lifting her gaze from her knitting.

“See, she is so good when I test her. You know I’m testing you, right?”

Melanie arched an eyebrow.

“See, I’m testing you, because the right answer would be….?”

“One point three million,” Melanie supplied. She wasn’t supposed to do this, but Randall was lovely, sweet, and she found she pushed the boundaries of her role to help her old employer out.

Randall clapped his hands. “Exactly. That’s our price.” He turned back to the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want some coffee, Esme? You never know, it might give you a bit of a spark.”

Melanie smiled as Randall cackled away to himself in the kitchen, and Esme harrumphed in her seat. They seemed like such a sweet couple.

A few hours later, Melanie reluctantly shut down the computer at her employer’s urging.

“Go home, Melanie. You’re young. You shouldn’t work so hard.”

Melanie smiled as she leaned over to grab her bag. Sometimes her boss conveniently forgot that he was the one who assigned her that work. She was taking on more responsibilities in the office. She was handling all of the cash that came in from the tenants, all of the accounting for suppliers and landlords, and handling all complaints and queries. Now she was taking photos and inspecting properties. She should sit down and talk with her boss about retirement, but she wasn’t quite ready to lose this job. It paid very well, and she was saving as much as she could. Soon she would have enough for a down payment on a place for her and her mother. Just a couple more months. Then she’d talk to her boss.

“Yes, Melanie, you should be going out to dinner, to parties,” Esme said as she gently rolled up the gorgeous shawl she was knitting. Melanie had admired it during the afternoon, the almost iridescent effect of the shimmering wool was mesmerising. She hadn’t seen anything like it.

Melanie paused as she donned her jacket. The party. Ah, hell. She had to go to that awful fundraising party Lionel had organised at the Kogarah Bay Yacht Club.

“Actually, I’m going to a party tonight,” Melanie admitted. She was going to make an appearance, then leave.

“Oh, I do so love parties,” Esme sighed, clutching her hands together. She turned to Randall. “Let’s go out tonight, too, Randall. Take me to a fancy restaurant.”

Randall shrugged. “Meh. Fancy-schmancy. Nothing beats your home cooking, Esme.”

Esme pouted. “Oh, come on, please? We don’t get to go out much, now.”

“Where are we going to go? We need to make reservations, make calls, then there is parking, you know you have to pay through the nose for some wine.” Randall waved his hand. “No, I think we stay in.”

Melanie looked between the two of them. She knew that Randall was very frugal. He only spent money on something for the business if he absolutely, positively, had to. The coffee mugs looked like something from another century. They rarely got properties for sale, and she wondered just how well he was doing financially.

“You could…come to this party, if you like?” She wasn’t sure why she made the offer. She never socialised with her boss, but his wife looked like she’d really like a night out, and Lionel was footing the bill for the event.

“Oh, really?” Esme breathed, her expression hopeful.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Randall said, blinking at her.

“No, it will be fine. It’s just a fundraising event my stepfather is organising. Free food and drinks, and you don’t have to contribute. Actually, I’d be offended if you felt you had to donate anything, so don’t,” she said as an afterthought. Less money in Lionel’s pockets could only be a good thing, right?

“Hm, it’s such short notice,” Randall said slowly, although he was watching his wife’s face.

“Oh, come on, Randall, let’s go,” she pleaded.

“There’s also free parking,” Melanie said as she buttoned her jacket.

Randall nodded. “Okay, but I don’t want to embarrass you,” he said.

Melanie smiled as she left the office. “You won’t.”

Randall and Esme watched as Melanie crossed the road to her car.

“Very well played, Essie, dear.”

“Thank you. Now, I’m going to pay our frog a visit. See you at the party. Oh, and Rump?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me Essie.”

Melanie handed her purse and shawl to the coat check clerk and headed toward the Captain Cook room, where the function was being held. Go in, get out. That was the aim for tonight.

She smiled at familiar faces, all prominent business people, local politicians, and the odd celebrity here and there. She scanned the crowd and finally spotted her mother. Greeting folks as she went, she made her way over to the still lovely, yet tired-looking Deborah Lowry.

“Hi, Mum,” Melanie said, as she hugged her.

“Oh, there you are darling. I’m glad you made it. Lionel will be, too.” Deborah said, then hissed at her daughter’s gentle squeeze.

Melanie froze. “What’s the matter?” She slowly let go of her mother.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” her mum said. “Just my back. You know, the usual.”

Melanie’s mother had been injured in the car crash that had stolen her father’s life. Since then, the woman had undergone intense physical therapy, but still seemed to suffer twinges of pain, or so she said to justify her constant supply of painkillers.

Melanie eyed her closely as her mother clutched her glass of champagne. Her mother looked…beautiful, almost ethereal, in her long silk gown with flowing sleeves. Melanie frowned. It was a balmy twenty-eight degrees outside, too warm for the long-sleeved dress.

“What did he do?”

Deborah darted a look around the crowd, her smile brittle. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. So, tell me, how was your day? Lionel said you dropped in at his office?”

Melanie’s shoulders sagged. Oh, hell. “What did he do, Mum?” Her whisper was fierce.

Deborah tucked a strand of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear, shaking her head. “Nothing. So, how was work?”

Melanie ignored her, instead focusing on the mark on her mother’s wrist.

Stepping closer, she took hold of her mother’s hand, and Deborah shook her head.

“Don’t,” her mother whispered.