He threw one of his icy smiles toward the toilets. “Your protégé seems to have scored, wouldn’t you say?” He was trying to sound ironic, but it fell flat.
“Why do you say things like that?”
“No reason.”
Gallagher gave her cheek a slight pinch and went back to the buffet. What an unpleasant man! Amelia wiped her cheek as if it was dirty, but soon resumed her role of carefree young genius—Culhane was coming back, his hands laden with petit fours.
“Everything okay?”
“Of course.”
But she was tired of being polite. Things weren’t okay. They weren’t okay at all.
Not so far away, forced back against the wall of the cubicle, Melanie was holding her breath.
“What do you want? Leave me alone.”
Osborne had her by the armpits, to stop her falling. She was drunk, but there was real distress deep in her eyes. That didn’t make things any easier.
“Why doesn’t your father want you questioned?” he said, crushing her evening dress.
“How should I know? Why don’t you just mind your own business?”
In his hands, her body weighed nothing.
“Does he have something to hide?”
She rolled her eyes and clung to him, like a wet rag. Her cleavage gaped. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Like it? Want some, do you?” She was raving now.
“You were perfectly OK this morning,” he said. “It was your father who made you stay in your room. Why?”
“What’s it to you?”
Melanie tried to push him away, but literally collapsed on top of him. She laughed.
“Do you know who stole the hatchet?”
“No idea,” she said, sinking into his arms. “Not a clue.”
“You’re lying.”
“Noooooo . . . ”
Melanie closed her eyes. Osborne felt the pressure of her belly against his leg. She arched her crotch, laughed as if in a dream, let her head fall on his shoulder, and continued rubbing herself against him.
“Fuck me,” she breathed. “Fuck me.”
Crazy. The girl was crazy. At that moment, a fist pounded on the floor of the cubicle.
“Melanie!” a harsh voice called out. “Melanie, I know you’re in there. Open this door now!”
Melanie eyes’ opened wide with terror.
Nick Melrose knocked louder. “Melanie, come out of there!”
She bit her lip and clung to Osborne.
On the other side of the door, Melrose was hammering. “Come out of there at once!”
Osborne freed himself from her embrace and pulled the latch. Seeing them emerge from the cubicle, Melrose’s face turned hospital white. His daughter’s dress was in a mess and her cheeks suspiciously red.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed through bared teeth.
Without waiting for a reply, he swept down on Melanie, who retreated in panic, crying, “Leave me alone!”
Almost slipping on the tiled floor in her high heels, she caught hold of Osborne’s arm.
Melrose glared at him. “You’ve made her drunk.”
Osborne shrugged.
“Is that your only answer?”
“It isn’t you I want to talk to, it’s your daughter.”
