Chapter Ten

I stared at my computer screen in my office, the setting sun beaming into the space around me. Several weeks had passed since I’d eavesdropped on my father’s conversation in a dive bar down the street. Several weeks where I’d used the mediocre investigative skills I possessed to try and figure out which way was up. Several weeks where I was no closer to finding out what happened than I was back in Italy.

A slight knock tore me out of my thoughts. I glanced up to see Blake, the law firm’s investigator, pop his head into my office. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any questions about the report I sent you earlier on the Lawrence fraud case.”

I met his eyes, giving him a smile. He was a younger guy. Most investigators I’d worked with in the past had been cops who retired after twenty years, but still missed the job. Blake was just a few years older than me. He joined the army straight out of high school, eventually becoming a CID special agent before deciding to take the plunge back into civilian life.

“It’s perfect. Everything I could have needed, and then some.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He paused, his green eyes beaming with pride. “Well, I’m off. See you Monday, Elle. Have a great weekend.”

“You, too,” I replied, returning my eyes to my computer as he headed down the hall. “Blake, wait!”

He popped his head back into my office. “Yeah?”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I stared at him, torn. I knew once I put the wheels into motion, there would be no going back, but I’d gotten nowhere trying to get answers on my own. Maybe I needed a fresh set of eyes, an unbiased set of eyes…a highly trained, investigative set of eyes. Yes, Steven was an FBI agent, but that was precisely why I couldn’t involve him in this. I needed someone who could help me discreetly without opening a federal investigation.

“Can you close the door?”

He studied me, but his curiosity eventually got the better of him. He closed the door, then took a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of my desk. “What’s up?”

“There’s been something that’s been bothering me, something I’ve been looking into, but haven’t been able to find out much. I just… I’d like your help, but I need a bit of discretion on your part.”

“Help I can give you, but discretion can only go so far. If I find out information that can prevent the commission of a crime—”

I held up a hand. “I understand completely. But until that point, I’d ask that this conversation, as well as anything you uncover, stay between us.”

After considering my request for a moment, he nodded. “I can do that.”

Taking a deep breath, I opened the top drawer of my desk and pulled out a copy of the file I’d amassed over the past several weeks. “I want you to look into my father.” I pushed the folder across the desk to him.

He lifted a brow. “Your father?”

I’d only been working here a little more than a month, but I’d become somewhat close to Blake, thanks to Quinn’s insistence I go to Happy Hour with the rest of the staff every week. Throughout the course of our conversations, I’d revealed who I was… Eleanor Crenshaw. The one who ditched her politician fiancé at the altar. The one whose father was Francis Crenshaw, a senior member of the Senate. The one whose affair with a famous Italian chef briefly made headlines.

“Yes.” I straightened my spine. “And his connection to a woman named Cynthia Edelman. She supposedly committed suicide back in March, but…” I shrugged.

“But you don’t think that was the case.”

“I don’t know what to think,” I admitted. “I’ve never had the best relationship with my father, with either of my parents, so I think my animosity may be clouding my judgment. I need someone who is completely detached to look into this and see what they can find.”

He opened his mouth, hesitating, and I sensed he was about to refuse to help. He was my last hope at getting answers. I needed him to agree.

“I can pay you,” I blurted out before he could utter a single syllable. “Probably not much, but I’ll—”

“Elle…” He reached out and placed his hand over mine. “I want to help you, but there’s no turning back after this. If I find out something, if I know there’s criminal activity and have the evidence to back it up…”

“I know.” I gave him a small smile.

Why was this so difficult? I wasn’t exactly close to my father. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel about him not being the man I thought he was when I was younger, when I idolized him, when he was my hero. This would eat me up until I could get some concrete answers, regardless of what those answers were.

“I need to know, no matter what.”

He blew out a long breath, pulling his hand away. “Okay.”

“All the information I’ve been able to find out is in that file. There’s a list of drugs I’d like you to see what you can find out about, questionable deaths, stuff like that. I’d also like you to look into any suspicious incidents around the vicinity of Barnes Pharmaceuticals in the weeks leading up to Cynthia Edelman’s death.”

“Why?”

“It might help. That’s all. Then again, it could be nothing, but please, just humor me.”

He nodded and grabbed the file, standing.

“Thank you, Blake,” I said sincerely. “You have my cell number in case anything comes up over the weekend?”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Something like this will probably take some time, especially considering you don’t want to raise any suspicions. Even if I do find anything over the next few days, it can wait until Monday.”

“Probably. But in case it can’t, you know how to reach me.”

“I do.” He paused, his mouth curving into a small smile. “Have a nice weekend.”

“You, too.”

As soon as he disappeared down the hall, I sank back into my chair, blowing out the breath I’d been holding. Would I come to regret involving Blake in this? Probably, but I didn’t know what else to do. This seemed to be my only option.

Returning my attention to my monitor, I eyed the time in the upper right-hand corner, immediately jumping to my feet. I hastily shut down my computer, collected all my papers, and shoved them into my bag. Within a few seconds, I hurried out of the office and was on my way to a bar down the street to meet Mila for a few drinks.

Once I moved out of her house, it had become part of our routine to get together before I headed to my mother’s weekly dinner party. And I still went, if for no other reason than to have a few minutes alone with my father to try and get more answers out of him, to let out a little more rope to see if he hung himself. But, regardless of my prodding, he stuck to his story, not offering so much of a hint as to where Cynthia Edelman could be or this supposed secret she had been blackmailed over.

Rushing through the front doors of the upscale wine bar, I spied Mila sitting on one of the stools, enjoying a glass of what appeared to be a freshly poured red wine.

“Sorry I’m late.” I took the seat beside her. “I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, sipping from her glass. “I just got here myself. Traffic was a bit rough. You’d think it wouldn’t be, considering I was going against rush hour.”

“That’s LA for you.” I raised my hand, flagging down the bartender and placing my order. “There’s no such thing as no traffic.”

“Ain’t that the truth. I’m glad I’m a stay-at-home Mom. I couldn’t imagine sitting in traffic for two hours just to go thirty miles. I’d lose my shit after ten minutes.”

“Audiobooks are a lifesaver,” I offered. “But it’s not so bad now that I live so close to work. I barely spend any time in my car these days.”

“Which is probably a good thing,” Mila joked. “I told you to just keep Steven’s car while you saved money for something better.”

I smiled at the bartender when he placed my wine in front of me. “I know. And I appreciate the offer, but I have a job. I need to start making my own way. And my car isn’t that bad. Is it old? Yes. But I’ve yet to have a single problem with it.” I tapped on the top of the bar. “Knock on wood.”

“Because you barely drive anywhere. Just promise you’ll think about getting something a little better when you have the money.”

I gave her a smile. “Of course.”

“Good.” She took a sip of her drink before straightening her back. “So…” Her voice brightened. “What was today’s love letter?”

My mood immediately lifted. I’d been so preoccupied with my father lately that the only ray of light, the only things that made me smile, were the Instagram posts from Dante. And he still sent at least one a day, no matter where he was or what he was doing.

I grabbed my phone and found his most recent post, handing it to Mila. She studied my phone for several seconds, then read the caption out loud.

“‘We are much fonder of the pictures of those we love when they are at a great distance than when they are near to us.’ —Hèloïse d’Argenteuil, Letters of Abelard and Hèloïse.”

“It’s the grave of Hèloïse and Abelard at Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris,” I explained. “It must be an older photo, since he’s not in Paris right now.” I looked straight ahead, avoiding her eyes.

“Speaking of which—”

“Do you know the story of Hèloïse and Abelard?” I interrupted, not wanting her to ask the next question. I knew all too well what that would be.

She looked at me, subtly shaking her head.

“It was a tragic story, one with no happy ending. It was a forbidden romance before that became the trendy thing. She was estimated to be twenty-two years his junior…and his student. Regardless, that didn’t stop them from falling in love and eventually having a baby, as the legend goes. When Hèloïse’s uncle found out, he wasn’t happy. To keep her safe, Abelard placed her in a convent. Her uncle thought it was Abelard’s way of getting rid of her so he had Abelard castrated. Despite the obstacles, the two sent letters to each other throughout the years.” I sighed, a dreamy expression crossing my face as I allowed myself to be filled with hope, regardless of how ill-placed it was. “Their love never wavered, even until Abelard’s dying day.”

It was silent for a moment as I considered whether that was all I had to look forward to — a daily Instagram post, a distant love that would go on for years.

“That’s beautiful, Ellie,” Mila remarked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I brought my wine to my lips, savoring the spiciness of the pinot, then lowered the glass back to the bar. “Now the letters are nearly as famous as the affair itself. People flock to their grave in Paris, hoping to surround themselves with just a fraction of the love they had.”

“What did you send back to Dante?”

I grabbed my phone again, bringing up the photo I’d found online of a closeup of a coin on the ledge of the Trevi Fountain. It was the only thing that seemed fitting. I always returned to the fountain. I had a feeling I always would. It was where I left my heart.

I passed my cell to Mila and she read the caption out loud.

“‘For not with me was my heart, but with thee. But now, more than ever, if it be not with thee, it is nowhere. For without thee it cannot anywhere exist.’ —Hèloïse d’Argenteuil, Letters of Abelard and Hèloïse.”

She handed my phone back to me, pausing for a moment. “It’s fitting, isn’t it? You two are like a modern day Hèloïse and Abelard. The love letters are just in the form of Instagram posts. It’s one of those stories you’ll be able to tell your kids one day. I bet yours are going be absolutely adorable. Much better than what your kids with Brock would have looked like.” She cringed in playful disgust. “Not because of you. You’re beautiful. And Brock’s a decent-looking guy, but I’m convinced there’s something off about him.”

I swallowed hard, avoiding her eyes. I still hadn’t seen Brock in a while, which had begun to unnerve me, especially since he’d flown halfway around the world to track me down. I couldn’t quite explain it, but something about his lack of contact didn’t sit right with me. I wondered if he knew what I found in his office back in June. More pressing was why he had all that stuff. It looked like he was investigating my father. It was possible, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Brock’s involvement went beyond that. He and my father had routinely worked together to get certain bills passed in both the House and Senate. I wondered if their relationship went beyond the halls of Congress.

“It’s kind of difficult to make babies when we live thousands of miles away from each other.”

Mila opened her mouth to respond, but I quickly cut her off, knowing exactly what she was about to say.

“Maybe we’re just doomed to be apart until we’re old and gray. Then they’ll find our Instagram posts and publish them. They’ll bury our bodies together, and people will flock to our graves, just like Hèloïse and Abelard.”

“I don’t understand why you haven’t gone to him,” she stated in a quiet voice.

I kept my eyes trained forward, trying to pretend I didn’t know what she was referring to as I signaled the bartender for another glass of wine. “I haven’t exactly been able to afford a trip to Rome, Mila. I’m finally making my own way, but after rent, utilities, and chipping away at the credit card balance I racked up during my months of unemployment, not to mention the expense of my previous trip to the Eternal City, there’s not much left over.”

“That’s not what I mean. Even it if were, I told you I’d let you borrow—”

“No,” I shot back immediately, my voice rising in pitch as I glowered at her. Then I softened my expression, bringing my fresh wine to my lips and taking a sip. “I’m sorry. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I truly do. But it’s important that I stand on my own two feet.”

“Which you’ve proven you can do. You have a job. An apartment. A…car, I suppose,” she said, grimacing. “Although car is putting it loosely.”

I laughed politely at her jab. I doubted I’d ever hear the end of it. It wasn’t a bad car, but it certainly wasn’t even close to the luxury vehicles I’d driven since getting my license.

“It’s okay to ask for help when you need it, to accept it when it’s freely given.”

I vehemently shook my head. “No. Not me. I just… I can’t. I need to do this on my own so I can figure out who I am.”

“Says who?” she shot back quickly. “You think you need to suffer and be unhappy just to figure out who you are?”

“Yes!” I insisted, tears welling in my eyes. I drew in a deep breath, meeting her concerned gaze. “That’s got to be what this is all about, why we’re still apart. I thought once I had a job and a place of my own, we’d find each other again. Maybe that’s what fate’s waiting for before we can be together.”

She placed her hand over mine, squeezing. “I love you, Ellie, but you need to stop depriving yourself of being happy because of some idea you have in your head that you don’t know who you are as a person. I’ll tell you a secret. I’m still trying to figure that out for myself. You don’t just wake up one day and miraculously have your shit together. Life doesn’t work that way. Life is a path we take, with ebbs and flows, ups and downs. It’s better when you can take that path with someone who supports you, who loves you, who makes you a better person.”

“It’s not that easy. Not for me.”

“I get it, Ellie. Your mother ingrained this notion into your head that being happy makes you selfish. Well, fuck that and fuck her.” She lowered her voice. “You still love him, so why are you punishing yourself like this? Why are you having a drink with me, then planning to go to your parents’ house when you know damn well you should be somewhere else?”

My eyes narrowed at her, my lips formed into a tight line. “I told you—”

“I know. What’s meant to be will be,” she bit back in a mocking tone. “Did you ever stop to think maybe you’re doing everything in your power to work against fate? Dante is in town for a particular award show this weekend. I know he also has an appearance scheduled at USC tonight. And I know you know that, too.” She raised her glass of wine to her lips, leaning back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her face. “Sometimes, my darling friend, fate needs a little push.”