Page 37 of Blackmail of a Billionaire

Grant bobbed his head as he focused on the picture of her in the sapphire dress. Could this be a disgruntled business rival? Or whoever was responsible for the unexplained events surrounding Evelyn Carter? “Just figure out who is doing this.”

“We’re on it, sir. We’ll get to the bottom of it.” Max offered him a nod before he strode from the room, tapping his Bluetooth again and speaking into it.

“Things just keep going from bad to worse,” Grant said as Worthington closed the door.

“Would you like something stronger than coffee?”

Grant snapped his gaze to the man, appreciating his ability to anticipate his needs. “Bourbon.”

With a nod, Worthington crossed the room to the drink cart. “Perhaps another phone call to Mrs. Harrington would help.”

Grant stared at the phone, unable to lift it from its spot. He wished the suggestion would work, but he doubted she’d answer.

“Well,” Worthington said when he failed to answer, “let’s hope she’s home safe and sound very soon.”

Grant nodded, but his mind raced through a maze of doubts and fears. The bourbon, usually a solace, seemed like a meager balm for the storm raging inside him.

His eyes focused on the phone as the burn of the alcohol warmed him. He willed it to ring, wanting to see Julia’s name appear on the screen. But the black display never lit, and the phone never rang.

“Why haven’t they found anything on DG Industries?” Grant asked, his voice hollow.

“My understanding is that this is a shell corporation. Designed specifically to hide identities.”

Grant let his head thud against the chair’s high back. “I know that. But we can’t figure out who is doing all of this if we can’t find any information on them. It’s out there. Maybe I need to make a change on my security team.”

“Mr. Sterling came highly recommended,” Worthington answered.

“I don’t care. If he can’t get results, it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re frustrated. Rightfully so. But that does not mean someone else would have solved this.”

Grant slid his eyes closed and shook his head. “You’re annoying when you’re right, Worthington.”

“It’s a shame I tend to be right so often, then.” The man offered Grant a weak smile.

Grant sipped the bourbon, his mind trying to vet through the likely culprits. To pass the time spent waiting for any news, he jotted down a list of people they should look into further. Those business associates who would play by these rules and had dangerous connections.

He watched the time pass by, marked by the slow ticking of the mantel clock, the only sound in the tense room.

Finally, the shrill ring of the phone split the silence. His heart hammered as he stared at the receiver before snatching it. “Yeah?”

“The good news is it appears Mrs. Harrington is on her way back to her car,” Max said.

“And you have the information about where she went?”

“I’m on my way up. I’d prefer to deliver the news in person.”

Grant slammed down the receiver, his fingers curling into fists again. Delivering the news in person meant it wasn’t good. His stomach turned over as he prepared for what he was about to hear. As each second stretched, he filled with more and more dread along with that last gasp of unspoken hope that his fears were unfounded.

Max stepped into the foyer a minute later and strode to the office, closing the doors behind him after he entered. He clutched a folder to his chest as he offered Grant a serious look.

Grant stared at the manila folder, his stomach turning over. “Well?”

Max offered him the folder before he expounded on the contents. “She went to The Regency. As you can see from the photographs, she removed her rings before she entered. She exited shortly after with a man, unknown identity at this time.”

Grant stared down at the pictures of his wife with her arm threaded through another man’s. She grinned up at him as they walked.

“They went to a coffee shop and spent about forty-five minutes there together before they returned to The Regency. She went to his room for about forty minutes, then left.”

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