“And was he still with Nathaniel when you made your grand exit?”
She ground her teeth. Mosely’s lips twitched with amusement, and Nadia hated that she’d given him the satisfaction.
“Yes. Yes, he was. And you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Mosely smiled benignly, and once again Nadia was tempted to do something imprudent.
“If you knew he was there, then you know that someone saw Nate alive after I left. Why are you questioning me instead of Bishop?” Not that she’d wish Mosely on Bishop, of course.
Mosely’s smile hardened. “Because Kurt Bishop is missing. Evidence suggests he stabbed Nathaniel to death and then fled the scene. I am trying to ascertain whether you might have been Mr. Bishop’s accomplice.”
Nadia’s mouth dropped open in shock. She was hardly Bishop’s biggest fan. As far as she was concerned, he was a bad influence on Nate, and there was a hard, bitter edge to him that made him difficult to like. But he would never hurt Nate.
“You’re way off target, Mr. Mosely,” she said. “I had nothing to do with Nate’s death, and I’m sure Bishop didn’t either.”
Mosely rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’ve already heard about Mr. Bishop’s saintly innocence. The fact remains he is the prime suspect, and his refusal to turn himself in and account for his actions is most suspicious.”
Nadia didn’t find it suspicious at all. Mosely had already threatened to detain her, the daughter of a president and the presumed fiancée to the Chairman Heir. If he dared issue such a threat to someone of her station, God only knew what he would do to a nobody like Kurt Bishop. She refrained, however, from sharing that opinion with Mosely.
“Why would you suspect me of conspiring with Nate’s valet?” she asked instead. “What could I possibly stand to gain from Nate’s death? For that matter, what would Bishop have to gain?” Especially when they both knew Nate’s death would be temporary, thanks to the Replica technology.
“One assumes it was a crime of passion of some sort. Perhaps Nathaniel threatened to dismiss him and Mr. Bishop reacted violently to the news.”
Nadia shook her head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Nathaniel’s Replica shares your conviction in Mr. Bishop’s innocence,” Mosely said. “I believe he will make his own attempt to locate Mr. Bishop, with the intention of helping him escape justice.”
If Nate’s Replica was just like the real Nate, then yes, he probably would. There was no way he’d believe Bishop was guilty, and he would do everything in his power to protect his boyfriend. Including reckless, dangerous things that could get him killed again.
“You are Nathaniel’s confidant,” Mosely continued, and Nadia shivered in premonition. “If you would agree to share with me whatever you might learn about his efforts to locate Mr. Bishop—or about any contact he might have with Mr. Bishop—then I would be inclined to release you into the custody of your parents.”
The blood drained from Nadia’s face as she absorbed the implications of Mosely’s words. “You want me to spy on him. To betray him.”
“He is a young and foolish boy, blinded by idealism. Bishop is a murderer, and he must be brought to justice, despite the stars in Nathaniel’s eyes. You wouldn’t be betraying him—you’d be doing him a favor. And he would never have to know.”
She shook her head. Even if she believed Bishop were the killer, she couldn’t betray Nate like that. The Nate she’d grown up with might be dead, but if she helped Mosely locate Bishop, she’d be betraying his memory. Not to mention his Replica, whom she’d one day find herself married to.
“I won’t do it,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t do it. Nate would never forgive me.”
Mosely folded his hands on the table and leaned forward, pinning her with his stare. “Let me make the situation perfectly clear. You will do this. You will learn Nathaniel’s every plan, and you will share them with me. For Nathaniel’s own good. If you refuse, you will spend at least a week at the detention center, where you will be questioned more rigorously about your involvement with the murder.”
“You can’t do that,” Nadia said in a horrified whisper. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Oh, I assure you, I can. The assassination of the Chairman Heir is an act of treason, and where cases of treason are involved, my department has the latitude to detain and question anyone we deem necessary. In truth, I am doing you a favor by allowing you to prove your loyalty to your state by helping us capture the killer.”
Nadia’s eyes filled with tears of hopelessness. “Please don’t make me do this,” she begged as those tears spilled over, though she knew better than to expect mercy from a man like Dirk Mosely. She couldn’t bear the thought of betraying Nate, but she was going to end up betraying him one way or another. She had no illusions that she could withstand a week of “rigorous questioning” without spilling everything she knew about last night’s events, including Nate’s true sexual preferences. Whatever she did, she would damn Bishop, and Nate would hate her for it.
Mosely stood up, still staring at her with baleful eyes. “If I walk out that door without your agreement, you will be transferred to the detention center within the hour.”
Mosely turned on his heel, striding purposefully toward the door.
Maybe he’s bluffing, Nadia thought desperately. But she knew he wasn’t. And if he sent her to the detention center, it would ruin not just her own life, but Nate’s and her entire family’s as well. A taint of that magnitude could never be overcome.
Mosely grabbed the knob and pulled the door open.
“Wait!” she cried, just before he stepped out of the room. “I’ll do it.” She felt like a pathetic coward for giving in, but she just couldn’t face the consequences of refusing.
Mosely turned back to her with a vicious smile. “You’ve made the right decision,” he said, then took his seat across from her again.
Nadia wished she could believe him.
CHAPTER THREE
After the unpleasant meeting with his father and Mosely, Nate hoped to go home and get his thoughts lined up, but of course things were never so easy when you were the Chairman Heir of a powerful corporate state. So instead of having time to rest and recuperate, he found himself running a gauntlet of press conferences, interviews, and debriefings.
The press asked the most intrusive and obnoxious questions, of course, focusing on the lurid details and constantly asking him how he felt about everything. He’d been Chairman Heir all his life, so Nate was used to the media circus. That didn’t mean he liked it, and as the day wore on, his responses grew rather more abrupt than was politically wise. When he got asked for what felt like the thousandth time how he felt about having been murdered and brought back to life as a Replica, he snapped.
“How the fuck do you think I feel?” he snarled, then batted the microphone out of his way, fighting the temptation to shove it down the reporter’s throat.
Nate’s press secretary gave him a dark look as his security detail tried to confiscate all the cameras that had caught his little indiscretion for posterity. Nate put the odds at fifty-fifty that the film would wind up on the net anyway.
Screw it. He might be a Replica, but he wasn’t a machine, and there was only so much shit he was prepared to swallow.
He left the press conference only to find a cluster of demonstrators waiting for him at the Fortress’s front entrance. The entrance was sealed off with a double set of gates, and the security forces were keeping the protesters well away from the gates and the street, but that didn’t stop Nate from seeing the signs being waved as his limo pulled out.