I opened the door into the hidden underground passageway and stepped inside.
...
"Asher," Jeremy said while driving to Landseer Tower. "Do you ever think something's up? Maybe something's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" Asher asked.
"You know, like with Beatrice? She's always gone. She's not very friendly with anyone. I mean, she's a little more friendly with you, but not by much..."
"I don't know." Asher sighed. "I thought maybe it was how everything happened at first. Maybe she didn't expect it to turn out this way. I know I didn't, but it's not all bad, right? I try to give her space and I thought she'd come around, but it never happened. I don't really know what to think now. I'm still trying, though."
"Yeah, but why? I'm not saying you should divorce her or anything, but why not talk to her? Like, maybe divorce would be a good option, even. If you're both not getting what you expected out of a marriage, then it's not a terrible thing to cut your losses and go your own way with no hard feelings."
"It's not that simple," Asher said. "There's a lot at stake here. It's not just the marriage, but the company, too. Beatrice is a major shareholder and even if she's not involved in day-to-day business, she has benefactors working on her behalf. If we separated and she left the company entirely, the divorce proceedings could get out of hand. I know that it might be easier for both of us in regards to happiness, but then what? I'm heavily invested into Landseer Enterprises and she isn't. This is a purely business standpoint, but she could potentially set the company back by decades if she wanted to be vindictive."
"Yeah," Jeremy said. "I can understand that. It's as good a reason as any. Seems like a terrible reason to stay with her, though. Isn't marriage about love and happiness and all that? Saying that you need her to keep your corporation afloat is sort of the opposite of that. I'm not going to say you should just up and get rid of everything and be poor, but there's got to be some way that everything can work out in the end."
"I... I try. I really do. We're just two very different people. I still try, and I think Beatrice is trying, too. She's accepting this surrogacy situation very well, all things considered. Beatrice isn't very open-minded about much and she doesn't enjoy obtuse, creative solutions, so..."
"What about Jessika?" Jeremy asked.
"Jessika's wonderful," Asher said. "She's been really accepting during all of this. I enjoy her company a lot, too. Maybe Beatrice and her can spend more time together, too. Maybe... maybe it'll help? I don't know."
"You're thinking from a business point of view again, Asher. To use your own words, that's an obtuse creative solution. Except, you know, sometimes it's better to keep it simple. You don't always need to do something the hard way just because you can."
Asher frowned. He didn't know what he should do, or how he should do it. During important business meetings he could always come up with a plan, and if he didn't know what to do it only took him a little while to concoct a call to action. Business was easy that way. He understood the rules and he knew how to use them to his advantage.
This, though, it wasn't that. Jeremy was right. Jessika wasn't some rule to be understood, a piece of a puzzle that he needed to set into place. Jessika was so much more than that. And, truthfully, Beatrice was, too. It was just so difficult. What should he do and why should he do it? He didn't have a plan and there was no call to action. It was him, alone, a corporation of one, needing to decide the future for himself.
He needed to figure things out fast.
...
The inside of the passageway was easy to traverse. Whoever had built it made it more simplistic than otherwise, with emergency-style maps placed at even intervals along the hallways. It didn't split off into different routes often, and when it did there were easy-to-read signs explaining which way was which. Very logical and nice and it helped me a lot in figuring out where I was going.
Apparently, as far as I could tell, the passageways went to every major point in the Landseer main house. I checked a map to make sure and saw exits at all the rooms I knew. The dining hall, the front foyer, Asher's bedroom, even Jeremy's room. And then, of course, Beatrice's bedroom. Down the hall from Asher's, clearly indicated on the map and easy to find.
I walked there while the dim light from emergency floodlights glared onto me, illuminating the pathways and leaving a large shadow behind me. It felt like I was somewhere in a horror movie, almost, escaping the zombie plague. Not the best of thoughts to have while on a mission like this, but the idea stuck.
Once I arrived at the doorway to Beatrice Landseer's room, I paused. Did it open as easily on the inside as it did when I entered the tunnels from the guest home? And where exactly would I come into her room? What if someone was there cleaning the room and I burst inside? If they saw me, if...
I glanced at a console in the walls. "No motion detected," it said.
Oh, well, that was easy. I tried the handle of the door and it opened just like that. On the other side was a panel that slid away when I touched it. I knew Asher liked this kind of thing, the whole high tech science fiction fantasy feel, but it just seemed so strange. Was I stepping onto a spaceship somewhere or was it Beatrice's room?
It was Beatrice's room. Her walk-in closet to be specific. The panel moved out of place at the back of her closet beside a huge rack of shoes and shelves full of folded towels. I snuck through the closet—the massive closet that was about as long as two of my bathrooms combined—and made my way to the door. I opened it an inch and peeked outside, listening for anyone on the other end, but there was no one.
So, now what?
I stepped into the room and looked around. It was extravagant and excessive, but I expected that. Beatrice owned an old-fashioned four-poster bed that stood high off the ground on stilted legs. The bed had a curtain around it with a canopy above it, and a mirror built into the top so anyone laying on it could look at themselves by looking up. Then she had a private bathroom, currently darkened but with more than a hint of a myriad of feminine luxuries peeking through. A double sink and wall-sized mirror with counters covered in premium skincare products.
The desk with her laptop laying on it was near to the window. Dressers and bureaus sat against one wall, with a sofa against the opposite one, and a wall-mounted TV situated so that she could watch it from the bed or the sofa. Beatrice's room alone was about twice the size of my entire apartment, give or take a regular sized closet or two.
I stopped gaping and convinced myself to check out the laptop. This was probably my best option, right? Except I wasn't some kind of genius computer hacker. I knew spreadsheets and word processing programs and email and the internet, but...
Oh well, I didn't come here for nothing. I lifted the screen and pressed the power button. The laptop wasn't fully shut off, just in sleep mode, and it powered up fast. No password protection, either, just straight to the main screen. Beatrice had left a website up with a description of a hotel in California: the Solage Calistoga.
Adara King studio, I read. She'd selected a twelve day block for her vacation, and then clicked off every single enhancement available. Some of them looked really nice, actually. But, honestly, a prelude to romance on every day? That was nine-hundred dollars extra! Also, I wasn't entirely convinced about the necessity of both chocolate chip sandwiches and a chocolate fondue included in the room.
Six-thousand-six-hundred-and-thirty-two dollars.
I stared at the number. I think I made that much in five months after taxes if I was lucky. Beatrice wanted to spend that much in twelve days. I kind of would have loved to spend that much in twelve days, too, except, well...
Snap out of it, Jessika! I mentally reprimanded myself and forced myself to look away for a second. When I turned back, I minimized the web browser and scanned through the laptop's desktop icons. Beatrice was a minimalist, it seemed, and she had little more than the necessary programs. Not that this meant too much, since maybe she kept everything hidden in folders?
I clicked through My Computer, the Local C: Drive, Users, Beatrice's folder, and then to her documents.
There wasn't much there. She had basic files, but little else. The only thing of some interest was logs of her AOL Instant Messenger conversations, but even that was so wildly random and confusing that I couldn't make much sense of it. I clicked one to check it out, just in case, and saw mostly business-like conversations. Besides having no idea who these people were from their screen names, it didn't look very useful anyways.
I closed that and went back to the Local Drive to see if there was something I'd missed. No sooner than I did, I heard someone at the door. The voice was muffled and it sounded like they were talking on the phone. Passing by, I hoped? Or...
The doorknob wiggled.
"Hold on a moment. I have a lot of bags from shopping. Let me put you down so I can open my door. Just give me a second."
It was Beatrice. I stood in her room, at her desk, spying on her computer right before she was about to walk in.
To the closet! Right. Except, no, it was too far away. I wouldn't make it in time before she walked into the room. The bathroom seemed like an equally bad choice because I had nowhere to hide in there. And what if she wanted to use it? Well, she'd see me, obviously.
In a fit of complete nonsense and randomness, I bolted for the bed, crouched down low just as Beatrice opened the door, and rolled underneath it. Thank God she didn't keep anything under there. That was probably beneath her, I assumed. Only normal people stowed totes of their belongings under their beds, and Beatrice wouldn't stoop to their standards.
I saw her high heels and the lower half of her calves walk into the room. She hurried, placing her bags by her desk. I realized belatedly that I hadn't closed her laptop. She walked over to it, paused for a second, and I was positive she'd realize something was up and start scanning the room for an intruder.
"Yes, I left it up. I wanted to make reservations soon. Solomon, I love this place. We can get the prelude to romance package for every single day of our stay! Isn't that wonderful? There's fresh rose petals scattered throughout the room, with lavender massage oil and an aromatherapy candle. We'll have massages during the day, too, but I think we can find some use for the massage oil and candles after dark, don't you?"
Well, this wasn't what I had in mind, but it worked out somewhat. Here I was, in Beatrice Landseer's room, while she talked on the phone about her future sexcapades with Solomon Royce. Unfortunately I didn't have my phone, or I could have tried recording some of this. Still, maybe she'd mention something better? I had no idea what, but I held out hope.
"I ordered the chocolate fondue, too. I'd rather use it for unconventional purposes, though. Do you think you can handle it, Solomon?" Beatrice clicked her laptop shut and sauntered over to the bed. "I want to melt it and drizzle it all over you."
She sat on the edge of the bed, then lifted her legs up and rolled onto it. I lay hidden beneath her, feeling the weight of her body pushing down slightly against me.
"Are you alone in your office? Yes? Good. Lock your door. I don't want any interruptions."
Beatrice presumably waited until he did that. The sexy talk kind of squicked me out, and I didn't quite feel comfortable with it, but there wasn't much I could do, now was there?