Chapter 86: Personal Assistant

Adrian dropped a sealed box onto Dorian’s desk that afternoon. "This came in for you from a retired detective."

Dorian barely looked up from the document in front of him. "Yes, thank you."

Adrian didn’t move. Dorian could feel him standing there. He continued reading. Then Adrian spoke again. "You personally ordered for them."

"Yes."

Another pause. Dorian finally looked up. Adrian pointed at himself.

"Without my help?"

"Are you jealous?" Dorian asked.

"A little. You’re working on a case without telling me."

"Hmmmm hmmmmm... it’s personal."

"Sir, I handled all of your divorce proceedings, including two very messy ones. You weren’t even at the signing of the third one. I drafted the contract for your fourth marriage." He placed a hand against his chest. "I believe my right is literally in my name. Personal assistant?"

Dorian gave him a dry look. "That is not what personal assistant means."

"It should."

"Just leave this one alone, please."

"Is this why you’ve been staying late?"

"Adrian..."

"Because you’ve been here later than usual, you’ve been distracted, and now mysterious packages are arriving at the office."

"Adrian, I’m no fool. Don’t cross-examine me for information."

Adrian sighed. "Fine. I got that stuff you asked for and now my car stinks."

Dorian looked up immediately. "How old is it?"

A grin slowly spread across Adrian’s face.

"Oh, you’re gonna love me."

"I assure you, no."

"This will get you a blockbuster Saturday!"

"Adrian!"

"What? I know what Saturdays mean now."

"You were never supposed to know what Saturdays mean."

"And yet here we are."

Dorian pointed at him. "Age."

Adrian’s grin widened. "Thirty-seven years old."

"What? What the hell did you buy?"

"I got it from a family bakery business. Apparently, the sourdough starter has been handed down through the family."

Dorian looked disturbed. "Wow. We eat that?!"

Adrian chuckled. "I hear it makes the best bread."

Dorian sat back and tried to process the fact that people were willingly eating something that had been alive that long.

Naomi was going to love it. That alone made the ridiculous search worth it. Especially if it restored Saturday.

"Please take it to the house, label it Gertrude 2.0 and put it in the refrigerator. I’m not getting that thing in my car."

"What happened to Gertrude 1.0?"

"I killed it." Dorian immediately frowned. "I mean her. I mean it!" he snapped and dragged a hand down his face. "Ah, for fuck’s sake! The woman is messing up my brain."

Adrian laughed. "I can imagine." He turned toward the door, then stopped as though something had only just occurred to him. "Oh, yes... I forgot. Completely forgot." His tone said he absolutely had not forgotten.

Dorian looked up suspiciously. "What?"

"Mrs Heathcliffe Number Three is waiting in reception."

"For how long?"

Adrian checked his watch even though he clearly knew the answer. "An hour now."

"I like it when you are mean. Send her up."

"Yes, sir." Adrian walked out looking far too pleased with himself.

Dorian shook his head and turned his attention back to the sealed box on his desk. He picked up the box and crossed the office to a small lockable compartment he’d had installed recently. It had been an emergency decision, one he hadn’t bothered explaining to anyone, especially Adrian.

He opened it and placed the box inside. Everything connected to Marianne Bennett’s case was already there.

Anything he’d managed to get his hands on without creating a trail. He locked the compartment again.

This had become his work-after-work thing. Once everyone else left the office and the calls finally stopped, Dorian stayed behind and went through Marianne’s case piece by piece.

He had read some pages so many times he practically knew them by heart. There had to be something.

Some detail everyone had ignored because Marianne herself had done everything possible to make sure nobody fought for her.

Tonight, though, he couldn’t stay late. He had somewhere to be. After enough digging, Dorian had finally tracked down one of Marianne’s old friends, a woman who had lived across the street from the Bennetts back then.

Court records could tell him what Marianne had admitted to. Police reports could tell him what investigators had documented.

But neighbors knew different things. They saw fights through windows. Heard shouting through walls.

Dorian needed someone who could tell him exactly what kind of man Naomi’s father had been before he died.

Because if the man had been an all-around asshole, Dorian could work with that. More importantly, if there had been a pattern of violence that existed outside Marianne’s deliberately ruined defense, there might still be something buried in the past that could be useful now.

Something that didn’t require putting Naomi’s name into the system. That was the line he refused to cross.

Dorian was just returning to his desk when the door opened. Camille walked in. She looked expensive, irritated and completely comfortable acting as though his office still belonged partly to her. "Camille."

She didn’t return the greeting. "Why do you keep this Adrian guy?" she complained. "I have been waiting for the past hour."

"I was busy, Camille."

Her lips tightened. "You couldn’t make time out for me?"

Dorian slipped both hands into his pockets. "Why are you here?"

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"It’s quite interesting, Camille. You are my first ex-wife who keeps thinking about coming back. I must have done something right with you."

"Dorian..." She stepped closer.

Dorian immediately took a significant step back. That was how lawsuits began.

Proximity.

And with Camille, who spent roughly ninety percent of her life on the internet, he wasn’t taking any chances. One badly angled photo and suddenly the headlines would read Dorian Heathcliffe Caught in Intimate Moment With Ex-Wife.

No, thank you.

"Oh, for God’s sake. I’m not going to attack you."

"I value my personal space."

Camille rolled her eyes. Dorian waited. She had come here for something, and the sooner she said it, the sooner Adrian could escort her back into the internet where she belonged. She adjusted her bag. "The Blackstone Leadership Forum is sponsoring one of my shows, and they want you as a guest speaker."