Page 89 of Wretched Soul
“I don’t have much recollection of what happened, but I’m guessing I owe you a debt of gratitude. And Simon too.”
Calder’s face breaks into a grin. “As I understand it, Simon has received more than his fair share of gratitude.”
I will my cheeks not flush. I know he’s referring to Kaitlyn, who has gone out of her way to express how grateful she is to the doorman, but I’m not about to divulge any of her bedroom secrets to Simon’s boss.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I say, swiftly changing the subject.
Calder eyes me over his glass as he sips his drink. “I expected you to ask me for a character reference.”
My heart drums against my chest so fast that my throat tickles with nervous energy. “And if I did?”
“He’s a good man with a hard shell that most people, including me, could never hope to crack,” Calder says with all sincerity. I don’t think he’s going to say more until his eyes lock onto mine. “But somebody did, and I hope she knows to tread carefully. There are a lot of people who care about him.”
I want to tell Calder that one of those people is me, and I don’t just care about him. “Does he know I’m here?”
“You’d have to ask him that. You have his number,” he says. The casual comment is loaded, but before I can respond, he’s standing up. “And I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve just arrived back from New York, and I have work to catch up on.” He starts to drain his glass.
“I’m sorry for taking up your time. Should I send you my resume?” I ask, only just remembering why I said I wanted to meet him.
Calder almost chokes on the last of his whiskey. “I have your details,” he says. He smiles to himself when he adds, “And the final decision won’t be mine, I should imagine. It was nice meeting you, Lily. I hope I’ll see you at the club, but don’t take it personally if your name gets removed from the approved list.”
“And why would my name be removed?”
“Again, that’s not going to be my decision. But it might have something to do with yours.”
He’s stepping away, but as he passes the bartender, he points back to me.
“Could you get this lady an unopened bottle of one of the Griffin whiskeys. I think she’d appreciate it,” he says, turning to give me a final wink before he leaves.
As I wait for my gifted bottle of whiskey, I do a quick search online. My current knowledge of Shade might be limited, but I do know two of his brothers’ names. Reid is the youngest, but I type in the name of the older brother who’d shown up at my apartment. If I’m right about the whiskey label, an Ash Griffin should exist. And what do you know. He does.
I go straight to images, but there aren’t many results that show an actual photo. Most of the historical images are of the whiskey branding, or people associated with Griffin Corps. The fact that Ash Griffin’s privacy is tightly controlled is furtherconfirmation that I’m on the right track. It must run in the family.
The photos I do find are from multiple news agencies reporting on a memorial service for an Alice Emerson just a few hours ago. There’s a photo of four men in dark woolen coats leaving the church. One has a beard and looks remarkably like the man who delivered food to my apartment. Of the other three, I focus on the one wearing sunglasses with his head down. I want to say it’s Shade, but he’s being camera shy.
I click on the image, hoping to zoom in for a better look, but the link must be broken because it comes back as page not found. I return to my search, but now I can’t find the thumbnail photo either. It’s as if it’s being erased from existence in front of my eyes. And if that isn’t very Shade, I don’t know what is. But I’m not giving up.
Wikipedia is surprisingly short on detail considering the Griffins’ net worth, but my accounting experience does come in useful sometimes. I log into federal and state databases until I find a listing of Griffin Corps and its executives. Four names. Four brothers. I discount Reid and Asher, which leaves me with a choice of two. Hunter or Mason.
“Fuck,” I say out loud, but I want to laugh as I recall tracing the tattoos on Shade’s shoulder blades. A griffin and a mace. “You sneaky bastard.”
As I leave the bar and pass through the hotel lobby, I scan my surroundings. I wouldn’t be surprised if Shade was watching me. If Calder has returned from New York wearing a black tie, he was probably attending the same memorial. They could have travelled back together. It might explain how Calder knew all about the call Shade is waiting for. Only now I don’t need to make that call, or ask the question. I already know Shade’s name. The game is back on.
“I’m coming for you, Mace Griffin,” I say under my breath.
Chapter 31
Lily
Lily: Happy Thanksgiving to you and Dad! Sorry I can’t call. Having a lovely time with Kaitlyn. Will catch up tomorrow xx
Mom: I hope you are having fun. Miss you as always xx
Ifrown at my cell, ignoring the chatter around me. Am I just imagining the inflection in Mom’s text? It’s as if it should read,I hope you’re not lying to me, Lily Kendrick. This is why I avoided talking to her for so long. Mom always could tell when Luke and I were hiding something.
After sending a similar message to Kaitlyn, but suggesting I’m with Mom and Dad, I wrap my hands around my steaming mug of coffee and return to staring out the window. The coffee shop is across the street from a sleek and modern apartment block. Black granite steps lead up to a grand foyer where a concierge stands behind a reception desk in a fancy uniform. Mace Griffin’s residence has all the hallmarks of a billionaire’s bachelor pad. I knew I was dealing with someone with powerand influence, but the Griffins are something else, and I’m trying not to let that frighten me off.
It had been surprisingly easy to find out where Shade lives, despite his efforts to erase any trace of himself from the internet. It’s possible he’s removed his existence from Google just to stop me finding him, but I think this is just Shade all over. He hides. Just not well enough.
