Chapter 3: Daniel Brings The Men
The water kept coming off me in a steady sheeting. It ran from my ponytail down the back of my white shirt and pooled under my shoes on the terrace stone, pink at the edges where it mixed with the blood from my shin. I could feel the tear in my trousers sticking to the cut every time I shifted my weight.
Nobody had come closer. That was the part I remembered most clearly afterward. The guests had made a loose half circle around the fountain, champagne in their hands, and they were watching me the way you watch a performer who has missed a cue. The heiress was still there near the railing in her plum gown, her smile settled now, not broad anymore but composed. The older man in the tuxedo was to her right, his mouth slightly open, his eyes not on her but past me, toward the house.
He lifted his hand, just a small motion, and said it. Not loud. I heard him the second time because the wind had dropped.
"Daniel, bring the men."
My fingers were still curled around the pocket of my vest. My phone was in there, in the waterproof pocket I'd sewn shut with a strip of extra fabric after the second time my manager told me not to bring it onto the floor. It was still there, hard against my hip. I didn't take it out.
Two men in dark suits came from the terrace doors before Daniel did. They moved fast but without running, the way hotel security does when they don't want guests to notice them. Then Daniel followed, maybe late forties, short cropped hair, navy blazer with an earpiece, the kind of guy who worked sheriff's detail and then went private for estates like this. He didn't look at the fountain. He looked at the older man, got a nod, and then turned to me.
He stopped a foot away, hands visible, palms slightly out. His voice was low and even, the practiced calm I'd heard before when a guest had complained about a server.
"Miss, let's get you off the stone here," he said. "For your safety and for the guest experience, we're going to move you inside where it's warm and dry."
One of the suits stepped to my left, the other to my right, not touching me, just closing the space. The guests shifted to let them in, glad to have something official happen.
I tried to keep my breathing even. My shin was throbbing now that the cold water wasn't numbing it. "I was tripped," I said. "Someone put a foot out. I'm bleeding, I need first aid."
Daniel nodded like he'd heard me and kept talking over the end of my sentence. "Absolutely, we have a first aid kit in the back. Let's get you out of the wind. You're soaked and there's glass near the fountain. This isn't safe for you out here."
The heiress took a half step forward then, just enough to be seen. She tilted her head, her diamond earrings catching the torchlight.
"Oh, honey, are you alright?" she said, soft enough that the people nearest her would hear the concern in it. She didn't come any closer. She looked at Daniel. "Please make sure she's taken care of."
The older man didn't speak again. He just watched Daniel, his jaw tight.
I tried again. "I need something for the cut before I walk on it. There's glass in the water. Can someone call—"
"Right this way," Daniel said, a little louder, still polite. He gestured with an open hand toward the service corridor that ran along the east side of the terrace. "We don't want you to get cut worse. The kitchen entrance is heated. We'll have someone look at that leg right away."
It wasn't a request. The two men didn't grab me, they didn't need to. They just waited until I moved, then walked with me, one slightly ahead, one behind, so it looked like an escort instead of a removal. I felt every eye on my back as I stepped out of the pool at the fountain's edge. Water sloshed over the rim of my shoes and left a wet print with every step, then a fainter pink print, then just wet.
The terrace doors were still open and the string quartet inside had started playing again. Someone laughed, a sharp, relieved laugh, as we cleared the circle.
Daniel kept pace beside me, his hand hovering near my elbow without touching it. "You're doing great," he said quietly, for me only. "We'll get you a towel and get this sorted. Just keep moving."
I glanced back once before we turned the corner. The heiress had turned back to her group. She was holding a fresh flute someone had handed her, her shoulders relaxed, her smile back in place. The older man was still watching us go, his hands clasped in front of him.
May you like
The service hallway was concrete and cold after the sunset air, lit with bare bulbs. The door clicked shut behind us and the music cut to a muffle. The warm gala air was gone. I could hear the industrial dishwasher running and my own shoes squeaking, and I could feel the blood starting to soak through to my sock.
Daniel didn't stop walking.
