The undercurrents had Nate’s nerves on alert, and he declined to shake Dorothy’s hand. She’d spoken three meaningless words so far, and already Nate didn’t like her. In his mind, he heard Nadia’s rebuke about how unfairly he’d treated Agnes, whom admittedly he’d never tried to get to know, but this wasn’t the same kind of snap judgment. He’d disliked Agnes from the start because of what she stood for, because of the harm she was going to do to his life and Nadia’s. He still had no idea who Dorothy was, so there was no practical reason that explained his reaction to her.
“Dorothy who?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded cold rather than shaken.
Her smile brightened, and he was sure that gleam in her eyes held a tinge of predatory glee. “Why, Dorothy Hayes, of course.”
Nate blinked and shook his head. Had his father remarried? Without telling anyone? And to a complete stranger, only days after his wife had died? Nate had a few cousins scattered about on his father’s side, but Dorothy wasn’t one of them.
Maybe the Hayes name was merely a coincidence. There were unrelated people who had the same surname within Paxco, and there were certainly more of them in the rest of the Corporate States.
“I’m so glad to finally have the chance to meet you,” Dorothy continued, but Nate ignored her, turning to the Chairman.
“What the hell, Dad?” He couldn’t remember the last time he had addressed his father as Dad, but somehow it had just slipped out.
The Chairman cleared his throat and shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Dorothy is…” He cleared his throat again.
Dorothy looked at the Chairman expectantly. What was wrong with him? He never showed hesitation or uncertainty in front of people, considered it a dangerous sign of weakness. But for this one brief, unguarded moment, he looked like he’d been backed into some kind of corner. Then he sealed up his defenses, becoming once again the coldly confident father Nate had always known. And he finally finished his sentence.
“She’s my daughter, Nate.”
From the moment her limo turned a corner and the Preston Sanctuary came into view, Nadia knew the place was more than just a more remote version of Tranquility. Situated on the crest of a hill, the Sanctuary loomed over the surrounding countryside like a brooding, forbidding fortress, and it gave Nadia a chill just looking at it.
It didn’t help that instead of her family coming to Tranquility to pick her up so they could all ride to the funeral together, they’d merely sent a driver. As if the thought of arriving at the funeral with her in their midst was embarrassing. Although maybe she was reading things into it that she shouldn’t. Maybe her parents and Gerri had driven up the night before and stayed the night in a local hotel. But if so, it would have been nice if they’d taken Nadia with them, especially since she hadn’t been able to meet up with Dante last night. A fierce storm had rolled in shortly before the time Nadia planned to leave the dorm to go meet him. She thought that if any of the staff were keeping a special eye on her, they might be able to understand if she went walking at midnight and got caught in the rain, but plunging out into a torrential downpour would be far too suspicious. Not to mention that visiting with Dante in those conditions wouldn’t be a whole lot of fun for either of them. She hoped he hadn’t waited for her in the rain for too long.
With no company other than the taciturn driver, the ride upstate seemed interminable. The only bright spot Nadia could find was that for the first time in more than a week she was not wearing a retreat uniform. The driver had brought her a package from her mother, and Nadia had been allowed to change into the simple black sheath dress and the shiny black patent leather pumps before leaving the retreat. There was also a black pillbox hat with a dotted veil that would cover her entire face. It was old-fashioned and not even remotely stylish, and Nadia didn’t want to wear it. But her mother had put it in the box for a reason, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was annoy her mother. With a sigh, she’d pinned the hat carefully into her hair, but she’d drawn the line at covering her face with the veil, so she had it flipped up over the back of her head instead.
It was hardly a flattering outfit, and Nadia had no jewelry to give it any spark, but she supposed that was appropriate for a funeral, especially one from which the press was barred and at which there would therefore be no photo ops.
The closer the limo got to the Preston Sanctuary, the more obvious were its differences from Tranquility. Tranquility was surrounded by a tall iron fence; so was the Sanctuary, but its fence had high-voltage warnings posted on it. Tranquility had a guard post at the main entrance; so did the Sanctuary, except the guard post included a tower with a lookout, and she could see more towers in the distance. She’d felt like she was entering a prison when she’d arrived at Tranquility, but the Preston Sanctuary felt about a thousand times worse.
How could Nate’s mother have chosen to live out her whole life at a place like this? Nadia didn’t care what kind of falling out Ellie Hayes had had with the Chairman; nothing was worth the kind of existence the Preston Sanctuary offered.
Once the limo had passed through the gates, the place became marginally less oppressive. As at Tranquility, the grounds were nicely groomed, although there were fewer flower beds and more expanses of plain green lawn. There were walking trails, but they were shorter and more self-contained than the ones at Tranquility, and there were no hedges or rosebushes or gazebos to block the view anywhere. The on-again, off-again drizzle must have been keeping everyone inside, because even with her unobstructed view, Nadia saw not a soul taking advantage of any of those walking paths. She glanced over her shoulder at the perimeter, taking in the guard towers, and wondered if it was even possible to relax when you were out walking here. She knew she would feel like she was constantly being watched, even though the guard posts were there to stop people—especially the press—from sneaking in. But at a place like this, there would be no chance to sneak out for a quick rendezvous with Dante, even if he were close enough to get here.
Nadia hoped and prayed that a place like the Preston Sanctuary was not in her future.
The limo pulled up to the front of the main building, where a bunch of servants in the Chairman’s livery lingered to greet guests and guide them to the location of the service. One of them hurried over to open Nadia’s door for her. He held off the drizzle with an umbrella as she got out of the car.
“If you would just come with me, miss,” he said, still holding the umbrella above her head. The shoulders of his coat were noticeably wet from using the umbrella to keep other people dry.
The servant led her into the imposing building, which had neither the eye-catching modern design of Tranquility nor the welcoming niches for flower beds. The facade was of dark gray stone, with small, leaded-glass windows set at regular intervals on each floor. It was too elegant to be prison-like, especially with the leaded glass, but it wasn’t exactly homey, either. The interior wasn’t much better, the decor all staid and somber, and the small windows not letting in much light on this cloudy day. Nadia was glad when the servant led her all the way to the other side of the building and out onto a covered porch.
Black-clad Executives stood in intimate little clumps all around the porch. An awning stretched over a path of black cloth that led to a huge tent pitched on the lawn. Rows of wooden folding chairs were set up in front of a pulpit under that tent, and some of the more elderly of the Executives were taking advantage of the seating to plot and gossip in comfort.