“How old are you, Clio?” Claude asked.
She hadn’t trusted him. Trust hadn’t been necessary. Leonard had saved her. Since the day they met, he had denied her nothing. He gave her his fortune, his time, and his heart. Leonard fell asleep every night with his arms wrapped around her. He woke up early each morning to make her coffee. If he went away for more than a day, he always brought something back for her. He had a knack for choosing just what she’d want.
Everything she had, Claude realized, Leonard had given her. Happiness, freedom, respect. She’d rebuilt her whole world on the foundation he’d offered. Now that ground was heaving beneath her. She felt fissures forming and concrete cracking. A yawning abyss opened up in front of her, and she teetered, her toes over the edge.
Claude grabbed a croquet ball off the grass as she made her way from the pool to the house. Her mascara was running and her vision was blurred when she threw the ball at Leonard’s head. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have missed.
“What the hell?” he asked, captivated by the hole the croquet ball had left in the wall.
“I met Clio,” she snarled.
That scared him. Leonard held up his hands. “Claude—”
“I’m calling the police, you fucking monster. That girl is sixteen years old.” She never would have guessed he’d be one of those men. Not in a million years.
“Sixteen is the age of consent in many states.”
“Not here.”
Leonard nodded. He kept his cool. “If you think you should call the police, you should do it,” he said. “But it will be the end of your career.”
“Are you threatening me?” Claude shrieked.
“No, no,” Leonard assured her. “I would never do that. I swear, whatever you decide, I’ll accept it. I won’t take any action against you. But everyone you work with has something to hide. I’m not the only man with a taste for young women. They’ll all praise you for your bravery, but they’ll never invite you into their homes again. You’ll be right back where you were after your father died.”
That hadn’t occurred to her. “I don’t care. I can’t let you victimize little girls.”
“Victimize?” Leonard scoffed. “Did Clio seem unhappy to you? The money I give her keeps her off the street. Hell, Clio’s mother pays one of our cleaning staff to tell her when I’m coming to town. Then she drops her daughter off at my house. Everyone’s getting what they want right now. Do you have any idea what could happen to that girl if you go to the cops?”
What would happen? Clio would be stuck with a mother who wasn’t going to win any awards for her parenting. Leonard would hire the best lawyers and get off with a slap on the wrist at most. Clio would be broke, and so would Claude. Whatever justice they received would come at a hefty price.
“This is how things work, Claude. That girl is lucky. There are far worse men in the world than me.”
“Like who?” she wanted to know.
“You really want me to tell you?”
“Yes, I do. But first, write me a check,” Claude ordered.
“For how much?” Leonard asked, as if it were nothing to him.
“Enough money so Clio never has to come back here.”
“Sure,” Leonard said with a shrug. It made no difference to him.
“And then sit down and make me a list.”
“A list of what?” he asked.
“All the men you know who are worse than you.”
Leonard swore he’d never lie again. He promised complete transparency. He bought her father’s mansion on the Brittany coast and secretly had it reassembled, stone by stone, on land he’d purchased off the coast of New York, on a peninsula that jutted out into the sea. It was such a beautiful present. Maybe, Claude thought, they could make it all work.