Chapter Eight
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Grant was on his way back to Boston when he saw he had a voicemail from Viviana. Not calling her for two weeks had never been his plan. When he’d first gotten to Aruba he’d told himself he’d call her as soon as he made some progress. After he’d located Stiles, he’d told himself he would call her once he solved the mystery of what had happened to his brother.
If his brother’s death had been due to negligence, Grant would be heading to Viviana’s straight from the airport. But there is no good way for this to play out.
He listened to her voice message several times and had to remind himself that he barely knew her. Was it possible to miss someone when your time with them had been so brief?
She sounded upset, and it tore at him that he was the reason. In his public as well as his private life, he had a solid reputation for being responsible. He wasn’t the love ’em and leave ’em type. Just because something didn’t morph into a long-term relationship didn’t mean it couldn’t end on a good note.
He knew he needed to call her back, but his head was still spinning from what Stiles had told him. He was confused, angry, and deeply saddened by the situation . . . all to a degree that was foreign to him. He strove to remove his emotions from the equation so he could better decide what do, but it was proving impossible.
Grant was used to being prepared for nearly every outcome. He hadn’t prepared for this. He hated feeling out of control.
Everything Stiles said matches the tone of Patrice Standfield’s journal. She was jealous of my mother, jealous of her happy marriage. Would that have driven a woman like her to kill, though?
The phone numbers and lists of names in her journal might have been a hit list. Some of the deaths had been attributed to natural causes or accidents, but after what Stiles had said it was pretty obvious what had happened.
A cover-up of that magnitude would have taken not only a significant amount of money but also powerful connections—all of which Patrice would have had. Can I say with one hundred percent certainty that Stiles’s version is true?
No.
So, do I tell my family what I learned? It might destroy the progress they’ve made.
I could lie. I’ve gotten good at it, but the idea of more sickens me.
Viviana, I wish I had met you a year ago.
Or a year from now.
I can’t start a relationship in this headspace.
He dropped his phone into the breast pocket of his jacket. I will call you. Just not yet. Not while this storm rocks my family.
When this is over, if you’re angry, I’ll woo your forgiveness with a shower of flowers and gifts.
If you’re sad, I’ll do whatever it takes to return a smile to your face.
Just not today.
And, unfortunately, not tomorrow either.
A week later, Viviana was sipping bottled water instead of her normal afternoon coffee when the woman at the desk next to her fanned her face and said, “Why were there no single men like that in Boston when I was single? I wonder if my husband would consider an annulment.”
Stella was one of the few reasons Viviana would miss Boston. She was a constant source of hilarious outbursts. One more week, I might as well ask. “Who are you in love with now?”
Stella waved her over. “Look at this video. Seriously, I wouldn’t kick any of the Barringtons out of my bed, but most of them are married. Grant isn’t, though. Take a close look and you tell me if you wouldn’t agree to just about anything with him.”
Grant? Must be something about that name because I’ve already done just about everything with one of those.
There was no way it could be the same one. She took Stella’s phone and swayed on her feet when she saw that it was indeed the man she’d spent three weeks trying to forget. The video was a clip from the news. The announcer was speaking, “. . . along with the normally reclusive billionaire Grant Barrington, CEO of Barrington Financial, who also made a substantial donation to the foundation.”
“Grant Barrington,” Viviana said aloud.
“Gorgeous, right? You’re single. You should try to snag a guy like that.”
“How do you know he’s not married?”
Stella laughed, took her phone back, and smiled down at the video. “I shamelessly stalk them on social media. I can’t help it. The Barringtons are kind of a big deal in Boston. I love to live vicariously through them. Can you imagine being that rich?”
“No.” Viviana shook her head and returned to her seat on shaky legs. “I wonder what that does to a person.”
“Oh, I’m sure they’re all stuck-up assholes, but since I’ll never meet them I like to imagine they’re not. Sometimes I daydream about having them over for a backyard barbeque just to blow my neighbors’ minds. I find shit like that funny. People would want to know how and why, and I’d just shrug and say why not.”
“Yeah, why not?” Was that why he chose me? He thought it would be different . . . funny? Of course he did. Why else would he pretend to be broke?
Oh, my God, tell me I wasn’t a joke to him. It was easier imagining him married.
Her hand went protectively to her stomach. I’m not a joke, nor are you.
“Are you okay?” Stella asked. “You look a little green.”
Viviana grabbed her purse and stood up. “I’m not feeling well. Could you tell Dave I went home?” What’s he going to do? Fire me?
“Sure.”
Viviana was out on the street in a blink of an eye and in the back of a taxi a moment later.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Viviana did a quick search on the Internet for Barrington Financial then she read off the address. On the way, she called her best friend. “Audrey, I can’t meet you for our run. I not only know his last name, but also where he works.”
“Holy shit. Do you want me to come with you?”
Viviana loved her more for asking, but she said, “No, but I need you to give me another one of your mom talks because I’m so angry I might slug him. He’s rich, Audrey. Do you know what that means? Everything he said to me was a lie. None of it was real. He’s probably been laughing about it since. I bet he thought it was hilarious that I had no idea who he was.”
“Calm down, Viv. You don’t know that.”
“I’m going to confront him, Audrey, but I’ll tell you right now that if he is as big of a dick as I think he is, I’m not going to tell him about this baby. I’ll give him one chance to sound like a human being and not some egomaniac. That’s it. If he’s not a good person I’m not letting him near my child. This baby will never feel like it’s not good enough. Never.”
“You need to calm down, Viv. You can’t go to see him like this.”
“It didn’t work, Audrey. I still want to punch him.”
“Should I start looking for bail money?”
“Maybe . . . No. I’m going to be a mother soon. I can’t have a record or they’ll never let me volunteer in a school. But he needs to see how much he hurt me. He needs to know that the way he treated me wasn’t right. I’m not a joke. I’m a person and I don’t care if we did have sex before we should have, he should have had the decency to return my call.”
“Be careful, Viv.”
No, not this time. This time I’m going to say exactly how I feel and let the chips fall as they will.