Page 76 of The Making of Marnie Jones

Olivia met her eyes, and the two of them held hands as they mutely walked into the dining room with all the enthusiasm of women off to the gallows.

Dinner was uncomfortable, yet not unbearable. Mr. Derks peppered the two women with inconsequential questions, and both answered as best they were able. After the meal, he retired to his den.

The women returned to the kitchen where Mrs. Grant waited for them.

“I fielded several calls from different news agencies as well as a call from Jake McGrath. He’s your uncle, right, Olivia?”

“He is.” Olivia’s expression was strangely blank, as if unsure how to react to this news.

Mrs. Grant’s eyebrow arched. “I liked the young man when I met him, although he didn’t tell me he was a reporter.” She met Marnie’s gaze. “I’d never have given him your location.”

“He’d have found me anyway.” Marnie tightened her ponytail. “It’s all water under the bridge, so to speak.”

Nothing to be done about it now.

The housekeeper frowned. “Well, he’s sitting in a car by the guard's house.”

“What if we don't want to see him?”

Olivia's question surprised Marnie. Braced for Olivia's allegiance to Jake, she was caught off guard.

Mrs. Grant didn’t bat an eyelash. “He seemed prepared for that. He says he has suitcases for each of you, should you choose to stay here. I’ll tell Carl to send him on his way.”

“Wait.” Marnie closed her eyes, making a split-second decision she hoped she wouldn’t come to regret. “I'll talk to him.” She looked at Olivia. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get into bed? Mrs. Grant will have your bag sent up.” She met Mrs. Grant’s unsympathetic expression. “Tell Carl to send him in. I'll see him in the library.”

With no more than a raised brow, Mrs. Grant made the call and then gave Olivia directions to the guest bedroom. The housekeeper answered the front door.

Marnie made her way to the library. She stood behind the desk when Mrs. Grant ushered Jake into the room. Nerves barely had a chance to set in before the man himself stepped to the desk as Mrs. Grant silently closed the door, leaving the two of them alone in a closed room for the first time in days.

He was different. Gone was the man confident in his ability to influence the events around him. In his place, a man stressed and harried. Likely running his hands through it repeatedly had mussed his hair.

He advanced toward her, and then froze. “I can explain.” He was a man coming, cap in hand, prostrating himself on the mercy of the court.

She felt no sympathy. “I'm sure you can.”Steady.“I bet you’ve got all kinds of pretty tales and lies planned out.”

“I had to do it.”

She shook her head.Of all the bullshit...“You most certainly did nothaveto do it. No one was holding a gun to your head.”

His face drained of color, and he swayed alarmingly.

She was about to come around the desk when he spoke in broken, halting sentences.

“But they were. When I came into work this morning, and my editor called me into her office and…” He swallowed hard, and despite his obvious distress, held her gaze. “Phil was there. He’d dug up details on Lydia's arrest and Olivia's overdose.”

“Oh my God.” The picture cleared instantly, and her gut clenched. The idea of Olivia’s overdose making the news was too horrible to contemplate.

“I had to make a deal. I let them report on Lydia's arrest, and they promised to keep Olivia's overdose under wraps.”

“They blackmailed you.”

He shrugged, but his demeanor was anything but diffident. “They gave me few choices.”

“But how did they find us at the theater?” The question had niggled her since Phil accosted them.

“One of Phil's lackeys hacked my personal email and found the confirmation for the purchase of the tickets. Phil put two and two together.”

She arched an eyebrow. “That might explain how he found Olivia, but how did he find me?

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