I’ve been dodging since the gala, giving him scraps of information when he wants a full meal. And now I have to face him while I’m still reeling from agreeing to be shared by three men.
This should be fun.
I call him back before I can talk myself out of it.
He answers immediately. “Finally. I was about to call the estate directly.”
“Sorry. It’s been busy here.” I move to sit on the bed, trying to sound normal.
“Tell me everything. Who was there? What deals were discussed?” His voice sharpens with interest.
I close my eyes and try to remember. “Um, there were a lot of people. Politicians, business owners, families from all over. Senator Mitchell was there. Some developers from Brazil and Japan.”
“Names, Samantha. I need names.”
“I don’t remember all of them.” It’s not entirely a lie. The evening is a blur of champagne and introductions and Kai’s hands on me in that red room. “Grant introduced me to people, but there were so many?—”
“You need to pay better attention.” Frustration bleeds into his tone. “This is important. These connections are exactly what weneed. What about their business discussions? Did you overhear anything about investments or acquisitions?”
“Some talk about a Denver tech company. And something about Miami expansion.” I’m pulling details from Donovan’s tablet this morning, feeding Robert information that’s probably already public knowledge.
“That’s something. What else?”
“Robert, I’m trying. But I can’t exactly walk around with a notepad at a party?—”
“I’m not asking you to take notes. I’m asking you to be smart.” His voice softens slightly. “You’re doing well, sweetheart. I know this is hard. But remember why you’re there. Remember what they did to your mother.”
The guilt hits like a train crash. I’ve barely thought about her in days, because I’ve been caught up in feeling wanted and desired.
“I remember,” I say quietly.
“Do you? Because it sounds like you’re getting comfortable there and simply making friends.”
“I’m not making friends. I’m getting close to them like you wanted.”
“How close?”
“Close enough,” I say carefully. “They trust me. Grant introduced me at the gala as being under Hale protection. That means something in their world.”
“It does.” I hear papers rustling on his end. “That’s good. Better than I expected. Keep building that trust. The more they let you in, the more access you’ll have to information we need.”
“What kind of information?”
“Anything about their offshore accounts. Business partners they’re working with. Especially anything that seems questionable or illegal.” He pauses. “These men destroyed your mother’s business, Samantha. They’re not good people. Whatever you find will help us make them pay for what they did.”
I want to ask him about that, to demand details about exactly how Grant’s company destroyed Mom’s clothing business. Because the more time I spend here, the less sense it makes.
These men are calculating, yes. Dangerous, absolutely. But they’re not cruel. They’ve shown me more kindness in two weeks than Logan showed in ten months.
“I’ll keep looking,” I promise, hating myself for the lie.
“Good girl.” His approval is warm. “I know this isn’t easy. But your mother would be proud of you. You’re honoring her memory by making sure the people who hurt her face consequences.”
The words would usually steel my resolve.
Instead, they make me feel sick.
“I should go,” I say. “Dinner’s soon.”
