“You’ve been watching him, haven’t you? Does he know that you’ve been spying on him?”
“I’m a billionaire, my dear. And I have enemies.”
“How long have you been watching over him?”
“Years. But he doesn’t need to know that.”
Again, I have the sense of being forced into the middle of a conflict between them. If I don’t say anything, it feels like I’m deliberately deceiving Tank. But what would telling him accomplish? It’ll only make him angry and he’s already so angry.
I don’t want to make any promises that I can’t keep so I lean down to grab my bag. “I need to get back.”
“Thank you, Emma.”
It shouldn’t make me feel guilty but it does. Why is he thanking me? I’m essentially telling him that he’s on his own now.
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
He gives me a sad smile. “Yes, you did. Sometimes the choices we don’t make are even more important than the ones we do.”
Before I have a chance to question that strange statement, he wheels himself to the desk against the wall. “Will you read some documents for me before you go? My eyesight isn’t what it once was.”
This I can handle. Despite knowing that his desertion devastated his family, I can’t help my soft spot for him. I want to believe that he’s as nice as he’s always seemed but it’s not my place to decide if he’s really sorry or if he’s really changed his ways. He’ll have to earn his family’s forgiveness, little by little.
“Yes. Of course.”
He withdraws a sheaf of paper from the top drawer. “These. Can you read the name on each account please?”
“The Marshall Title Fund I and the other account is the Pacific Falls Investments. The first request is to add Damien Marshall. The second request is to add …” I stop when I see the name on the second form.
“Jonathan Boyd.”
He doesn’t seem surprised. “That’s what I thought. I never authorized the second request. I was looking for something else in the files and found this. It’s difficult to know who you can trust as you get older. There’s a point where everyone around you is only there for what they can get from you.”
His hand is shaking as he accepts the papers back. My own hands don’t feel quite so steady either. The implications of this are worrying. Jon is stealing from him. I wonder if Ivy knows?
“Does he know that you suspect him? I don’t want to leave you here alone if he’s coming back.”
He taps a button on his wheelchair. Instantly, the door opens and two large men come in. Max nods at them. “My security team is here. Don’t worry about me at all.”
But even as he says it, he doesn’t look comforted at all.
The trip home seems to take forever. My mind is on my meeting with Max and the papers he showed me. From the very beginning, I’ve been operating without all the pieces of the puzzle. All of Jon’s snide comments make sense now. He’s a thief so of course he can’t understand why I’d be hanging out with Mr. Marshall so much. To someone like Jon, there’s always an angle. He was probably worried that I’d see something I shouldn’t while I was there.
Which turns out to have been a valid fear on his part.
As I turn down my street, my heart speeds up. I scrutinize all the cars parked near our house. Ivy’s car is sitting in the driveway but Jon’s car is gone. I let out a sigh of relief. He isn’t here. I skip up the steps and open the door with my key.
“Ivy? Where are you? We need to talk.” A door closes down the hall and I turn toward the sound. She must be in her room.
“I just got back from seeing Mr. Marshall. There’s something I need to tell you.” I rush into my room and grab my favorite pair of sweatpants and a handful of clean underwear. Bringing a suitcase would probably scare the hell out of Tank so I briefly contemplate doing it just for the entertainment value. Most single guys break out in hives at the thought of a woman taking over their space. So I just grab several skirts and blouses so I won’t have to keep coming back for work clothes. I roll them to minimize the wrinkling and then tuck them into my messenger bag. If Tank needs me to stay with him, I’ll be prepared.
I loop the strap of my bag over my head and walk back out into the hall. Jon stands in the doorway to Ivy’s room. He’s obviously just been asleep because his hair is rumpled and his eyes look bleary.
“Where’s Ivy?”
He shrugs. “She needed something from the store. What were you yelling about? Something about Mr. Marshall.”
“Oh, is her car having trouble or something?” I ignore his question and focus on a spot about a foot over his shoulder.
His eyes narrow. “Were you hoping I wasn’t here?”
“Of course not. I was just wondering.” My heart racing, I turn back and walk into the kitchen. I’m glad I didn’t walk into the house and announce the news. Does he know, I wonder? Or suspect?
“What were you doing at Mr. Marshall’s?”
“Just visiting.” I open the refrigerator and pull out a bottled water. As I take a sip, his eyes follow the movement. I have to concentrate to swallow the mouthful without spilling any. His gaze is so smarmy. I feel like I need a bath just being in his presence.
“You seem to do a lot of visiting lately. A lot of talking. What do you talk about?”