Wishing Well(19)
Her expression was apologetic. “I’m sure housekeeping will be fine for me. I don’t mind vacuuming, emptying trash cans or stripping sheets.”
“Very well. I’ll need some information from you before you can begin work.”
“Such as?”
“Your full name. Your age.”
Pulling the cloth napkin from the table, she settled it over her lap. “Penelope Graham. Nineteen.”
This beautiful girl was fifteen years younger than me. “Why did you tell me your name is Penny?”
Shrugging, she refused to look at me. “It’s short for Penelope, and I prefer it.”
“I prefer Penelope,” I confessed as Matthew approached the table to set our meals in front of us. Once he left, I let the conversation go, watching with interest as she practically devoured the food in front of her. Uncaring that ketchup was slipping down her chin or that grease dribbled down her fingers, Penelope had cleaned her plate before I’d taken three bites of my food. Rather than using her napkin, she licked the grease from her fingers, the sight both disturbing for its lack of etiquette and appealing in a way that only a pervert such as myself could appreciate.
Rather than calling her out on the faux pas, I stared with keen interest. After barely managing to tidy her hands, she looked up, eyed my food and asked, “Are you going to eat that?”
Without answering, I slid my plate across the table, genuinely amused by this child I’d pulled from the streets.
CHAPTER TEN
(Faiville Prison, 11:57 am)
“She wasn’t that bad.”
“She was,” Vincent answered, disregarding the trivial defense Meadow had made for her sister while laughter whispered on his breath. “Had I not already made plans for Penelope, I would have tossed her from the hotel back out into the storm the instant she first demonstrated just how bad she really was. The girl had no manners.” His eyes lifted to pin Meadow. “Is that how the two of you were raised?”
Insulted by the question, she countered, “Because watching a woman get dressed while she has no knowledge of your attention is the best of manners? You don’t have a lot of room to talk, Vincent.”
His grin was malicious, and inviting. A man with no qualms for the pain he caused, for the games he played, for the lives he manipulated, Vincent took pride in his achievements - if they could be called that. Other people would refer to him as a sadist, a plague, a scourge that should be eradicated from the world for having so thoroughly polluted the men and women he ran across, but he was simply a scoundrel, one who could tantalize with a secretive smile, one who knew how to stroke and kiss, to mold and shape those who had the misfortune of knowing him.
Penny had cared for this man...eventually. And now Meadow watched him with critical eyes, looking for any hint of his humanity. She opened her mouth to ask him a question, but before the words could tumble from her lips, the door to the interview room popped open, a female guard walking in, her eyes drifting to Vincent for only a second before locking on Meadow. “It’s noon, which means it’s shift change. You’ll need to leave the room while we secure Mr. Mercier in an alternate location for the next half hour.”
“Am I really that dangerous?” he asked, his voice insidious and flirtatious. “Come now, Lisa, I’ve never done anything for you to worry about my behavior for the next half hour while you all abandon your posts.”
Meadow couldn’t believe it when the guard’s cheeks tinged pink, her eyes softening. Dear God, had this man managed to seduce the very people who were supposed to keep him locked away and imprisoned from the rest of the world?
“You know the rules, Mercier. I’m not willing to lose my job when you’ll be nothing but a memory in three days.”
“That’s not what you said last-“
“Not funny.” Panic edged the guard’s voice, her blue eyes darting between Vincent and Meadow as her lips pulled into a razor sharp line. “I’ll escort you from the room myself...both of you.”
Studying the guard, Meadow took note of her short stature, her figure more akin to a man than a woman, her short hair clipped close to her skull and the lines of age that marred her face. Standing as if to ready herself to leave, Meadow leaned across the table, lowering her voice so that only Vincent could hear, “She’s not your usual type.”
He grinned. “You do what you can with the selection you’re offered.” His gaze slid sideways to trap her in his peripheral vision. “I’ll see you in a half hour, Meadow.”
She chanced another look at the guard to find the woman staring directly at her. Smiling while turning to retrieve her recorder, she was stopped short by the guard. “You can leave your things. We’ll be bringing him back here when we’re done.”
Nodding, Meadow hated having to leave her tapes behind. This was her last opportunity to record his confession, the words he’d already spoken potentially lost if something were to happen to the recordings. Biting her lip, she released a breath, casting one last look in Vincent’s direction to realize he was studying her. Did he know how important these interviews were?
Forcing one foot in front of the other, she passed the guard on her way out of the room, flinched when she heard the door shut behind her, and walked in the direction of the hall she remembered from when she’d been led in.