Page 16 of It Starts With A No

Clary forced a smile, then got up from the bed and grabbed the bag on the nightstand. “Goodnight, Mr. Anderson.” She strode toward the bathroom without another glance his way.

He blinked. Her abrupt dismissal created a sudden void.

Seth wasn’t done with the conversation. He wanted to observe her as he asked her again. He wanted to find her tell and prove he was right about her—that she was the one patronizing him.

The click of the lock as she shut the bathroom door snapped him out of his thoughts.

He headed out of the room. His phone rang as he was closing the door. Zane. His eldest brother. He sighed and answered the call.

“Elton said you were held at gunpoint, and you’re involved with the Eolenfelds.”

That snitch. “She’s not an Eolenfeld. Not that she’s any better.” He twisted his jaw to the side. “I think she was one of those social workers we’ve seen.” Why did it feel so uncomfortable to say that?

“Social worker?”

“Safe Homes,” Seth sneered. He’d always found the names of such social enterprises a joke, because foster homes were rarely ever safe.

“Safe Homes? That’s actually one that does what its name says.”

Seth’s brows rose.

“What’s her name?”

“Clary Fiore.”

Seth waited for Zane to say something awful about Clary, because she must be awful. She was, after all, linked to the Eolenfeld.

Clary Fiore was nothing like he imagined. He’d expected a gorgeous, but materialistic and scheming woman. How else could one get the shrewd Edward Eolenfeld to hand over his banking empire?

She was gorgeous. Her black hair was so thick and lush, and her eyes … I can’t just let you go with him.

“Never heard of her,” Zane said and paused as another voice in the background started speaking.

Seth curled his hand into a fist and pounded it against his forehead, distracting himself from what Clary had said.

“Elton said you weren’t hurt,” Zane continued.

“And you don’t believe him?”

“I’m just making sure.”

“I’m fine.”

“All right. Call if you need anything. I have to go.”

Seth peered back at the closed door. I’m just here to get the loan, he told himself before striding away. I want justice for my sister. You killed her.

He ran his hand through his hair.

The loan might turn out to be the least of his problems.

Chapter 4

Clary checked her phone as she jogged down the stairs. She’d requested to be discharged first thing in the morning. Since there was nothing to pay, she was on her way home in under fifteen minutes.

She’d taken a quick shower and had gotten dressed when she heard the doorbell.

She assumed it was another of Grandma Moretti’s food packages. It was kind of early, but she wasn’t expecting anything else.

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