“He was definitely on a high when I left him,” I mutter sarcastically. “Maybe he’ll forget.” I’m furious with him for lying to my face.
And disgusted that he would use Celine like that.
And hurt, which is pathetic, given how casual our “relationship” was.
“Don’t count on him forgetting that. Not when he was trying to cover up the truth. But is he doing it out of pride, or respect for her, or because he’s hiding something else?”
Neither of us have come right out and said it yet. “Do you think he could have had something to do with her death?” Could Grady actually be capable of that?
Doug raps his fingers against the steering wheel in thought. “I’ve learned never to underestimate anyone and you shouldn’t either. And if there are potentially millions of dollars involved . . .”
“But this is Grady! He assumed everything she had was old crap. There’s no reason he’d think that vase was valuable.”
“Unless she told him it was.”
“He said he hated money . . . ,” I murmur, more to myself.
“Who did? Grady?” Doug lets out a derisive snort, but then he frowns. “When did he say that? How often do you two talk?”
“Not often. I don’t know how it came up. So, what now?” The last thing I want Doug finding out is that I’ve been sleeping with a suspect. Possibly our prime suspect.
“Stay away from him. Zac’s going to look for any connections between him and Chinese art. And first thing tomorrow, you’re going to go down to that firm and find out exactly what Celine told Jace about Grady. Word for word.”
I groan at the idea of seeing Jace again, now that I know I might have drugged and stolen from an innocent man. Well, “innocent” is a stretch after what I saw on that jump drive. But innocent of murder, most likely. “He wants me charged and put behind bars. He’s not going to tell me anything.”
“I’m guessing he’d rather have you focused on someone other than him,” Doug counters.
He’s probably right.
“You know what he’s going to want in return though, right?”
“Yeah.”
Doug reaches into his console and pulls out a small black kit. “Ready?”
CHAPTER 33
Maggie
“What exactly did she tell you about Grady?”
Jace looks up from his computer, his phone pressed against his ear, the skyline of midtown Manhattan looming behind him, the sky filled with drifting snowflakes. It’s much like the first time I stormed into his office, only now I finally have some answers.
But I also have far more questions.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Everett. She must have snuck past the main desk. She pushed me out of the way!” Natasha says from behind me. “Can I please call Security?”
“I’ll call you back,” Jace says and hangs up. “Yes, Miss Sparkes is willing to do just about anything to get what she wants.” He’s much calmer than when I saw him last night at the gala. Amused, in fact. “No need for Security. Maybe an apology?”
“Sorry, Natasha.” I don’t even try to make it sound sincere. Jace wouldn’t answer any of my calls this morning, and when I called her and asked her to patch me through, she refused.
He nods toward the door. A dismissal.
“So?” I take a seat without being offered.
“Didn’t feel like wearing one of Celine’s dresses today?” He scans my sweater and leggings. “Yes, I recognized them.” He refocuses on his paperwork. “They looked better on her.”
I let the dig roll off my back. I don’t care about impressing Jace, and he’s obviously not a big fan of mine anymore, now that I’ve accused him of theft and murder. “What exactly did she tell you about Grady?”
“I can’t seem to remember . . .”
“And what will help you remember?”
He leans over his desk. “You know exactly what will help me remember, so quit playing games. I don’t have time for this. Some of us actually earn our money.”
I grit my teeth and count to five slowly. Pretending to stall. Finally, I pull the jump drive out of my purse and toss it onto the desk. “What did she tell you?”
He slides it over, rolling it in his fingers several times, and then tucks it into his coat pocket. “What did she tell me . . . what did she . . . oh, right. It was that night in her apartment, when I confronted her about being a whore.” Standing up, he strolls around his desk, the scent of his cologne competing for my attention with his overbearing confidence. “You remember . . . Right before I nailed her on her couch. And on that big trunk that you like to set your dainty teacup on.”
I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me. “What exactly did she say about him?” I ask calmly.
He stares down at me for a long moment, with arms folded over his chest. “That he was paying her to fuck him and only him.”
“Bullshit.” I can hear Ruby’s voice in the back of my head, can see her face squished up with incredulity. Grady can’t afford that.
“I’m just relaying what she told me.” Jace is acting indifferent to the entire situation, but a vein in his neck is pulsating. Something’s definitely got him agitated. “When I confronted her about the old man I saw her with at the hotel, she told me everything and swore she was trying to get out of the business. She said that was a one-off—that the man was a longtime regular who offered to pay her enough to cover a month of rent—and that she was only sleeping with one client. Her super.”
“That’s a lie.” I still can’t wrap my head around this.
He shrugs. “Don’t believe me then. I don’t care.”
“Did she say anything else?”
He twists his lips, as if he’s deciding whether he wants to help me anymore.
CHAPTER 34
Celine
August 4, 2015
I pace around my living room, chewing my thumbnail and then scolding myself for doing it. First the oven, now my fridge? Within a week of each other? The oven isn’t a big deal—I don’t bake. But my fridge has to stay cold or I’ll lose a week’s worth of groceries.
So this time I didn’t have a choice.
I had to text him for help.
I’ve avoided running into Grady—or “Jay”—for three weeks, afraid it’s going to be painfully awkward to face him in normal life.