Read The Dollhouse Society: Margo for Free Online Page B

his computer. I crunched the paper in my fist and gave Adam a steely look. “Tell no one about this.”
    ***
    Later that same day, I caught up with Robert as he was coming back from court and asked if we might make something of a business date of tonight and spend it working on my deposition. The Copyright trial was coming up in just a few weeks, the big one with Disney—one of the biggest trials of my life—and I wanted to bounce some ideas off of him.
    He walked with me to his office and said, “I have some transcriptions from old trials you might find interesting. But it’s a lot of paperwork, and most of its in storage at home. But I’d be happy to bring some of it round to your place tonight.”
    “Why don’t we go to your place tonight?” I sat down on the edge of his desk and crossed my legs. I watched him looking me over while trying to remain a gentleman. “I have this idea, Robert. How would you like to top me tonight?”
    He couldn’t hide his interest as he set his briefcase down on his chair. “I’m not sure if I understand you correctly.”
    I’d given this a lot of thought over the last few hours. I knew it was sneaky, that I was being manipulative, but I had to learn the truth. I had to learn if Robert was involved in this missing funds issue. If he was, I knew I would find evidence of it at his home. “I go home with you tonight and you get to do anything you want to me,” I explained.
    Robert nearly forgot to move his briefcase and almost sat down on top of it, he was so distracted. When he was finally settled behind his desk, I sat down in his lap and slid my hand up his lapel. “Are you serious, Margo?”
    “How do you feel about that?” I asked, whispering the words against his lips. “How would you like to top me? Use me? Tell me the truth, Robert.”
    His hand moved to my thigh, gripping it possessively even as his eyes glided up and down me. He smiled in a hungry way I almost didn’t recognized. “Are you certain about this, Margo? Because I’ve developed a rather fertile imagination of late.”
    ***
    We finished discussing the case over dinner at a new bistro in lower Manhattan that we had both been eager to try out. The food was subpar at best, and I was starting to feel anxious again. My stomach kept cramping up at the idea that Robert might be guilty and I had to all but force myself to eat. If I managed to discover something tonight, something damning, I was going to be faced with an almost impossible dilemma—either confront Robert, or turn him over to the police for questioning. I wanted to do neither. I wanted this whole thing to just go away.
    Already, my mind was racing, reaching for several possibilities. There may have been a good and noble reason he’d taken the money. Maybe Robert was being pressed by mafia connections, maybe he was helping the police or FBI, or maybe he was covering someone else’s bad debt, someone he cared about. I liked that line of reasoning best, the idea of the noble Robert helping out a friend or family member. But even if it was personal, an addiction I didn’t know about ripping his life and company apart, I was willing to help him, to forgive him.
    I knew what Dmitri would say if I could tell him my thoughts. He’d tell me what I already knew to be true: I loved Robert. I was in love with Robert. I had made myself weak and vulnerable to him, something I had promised myself I would never do again.
    The first, second and third time Brent had cheated, I’d forgiven him. I’d even suggested an open marriage, if it would make him happy and settle him down. It was the only time I had ever compromised myself and my own standards for someone else. Was I wrong to compromise myself now?
    I was feeling sick about the whole situation by the time we arrived at Robert’s elegant, seven-story, Beaux-Arts townhouse on Lexington Avenue, and it was obvious he was picking up on my mood. He guided me inside, up the glass elevator, his hand in the