More Than Love Read online

  “You’re not sixteen, so, yeah. There’s no reason to be afraid. You can do this.”

  Viviana nodded. “I can.” She sat back again. “How long should I wait before I tell my family?”

  Audrey made a pained face. “My opinion? Reconnect with them first. They don’t understand why you left or why you’ve avoided them.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Audrey looked away then back. “I check in with your dad once a week. He worries.”

  Another tear fell. “He doesn’t call me.”

  “He doesn’t want to pressure you. All he and your brothers want is for you to be happy. They don’t know how they let you down, but they’re hoping you forgive them and go home soon. Things aren’t the same without you. Their words, not mine.”

  Viviana wiped away tears that, once they started to flow, just kept pouring out. She took out her phone and said, “There’s nothing to forgive. Except maybe on my part. I needed this time away. For me. How do I explain that?”

  “You won’t have to. I think they’ll be happy if you call and say you love them. And maybe, promise to make Dylan shepherd’s pie soon. He’s mentioned missing it at least three times since you’ve been here.”

  Viviana laughed. “It’s his favorite.”

  “I guessed that.”

  No longer crying, Viviana picked up the phone. “I’ve missed Cairo. I’ve loved being here with you, but Boston is too big for me. Maybe it’s time I think about going back—but this time getting my own place.” An idea came to her and she said, “Since I work for a fertility clinic, do you think they’d believe I did this on purpose? Single women use the service all the time.”

  “That baby has a father; they may notice that small detail.”

  “It doesn’t. I’m writing Grant off as a sperm donor.”

  Audrey shook her head. “You can’t do that and you know it.”

  “You think I want—?”

  “This isn’t about what you want. Once you decide to keep that baby, what you want comes second to what is best for it. Like it or not, that baby has a father, and one day it will ask you about him.”

  “Grant is probably married. He doesn’t want this baby.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “What if he’s not at all the man I thought he was? What if he’s someone awful?”

  “You can’t use that as an excuse to take the easy way out.”

  Viviana sighed. “You don’t cut me any slack, you know that?”

  “I channel my mother when I think you need it,” Audrey smiled.

  “When is she coming for a visit? I miss her.”

  “She and Harry are summering in Venice. It’s still weird to think of her with a boyfriend, but she’s happy.”

  Viviana looked down at her phone. She had two calls to make—which should she make first?

  She scrolled through her contacts and found Grant’s number. “Leave a message,” his voice said as the call went directly to his voicemail. She almost didn’t leave a message, then said abruptly, “It’s Viviana, call me when you have a chance.” And hung up.

  “He’ll call,” Audrey said.

  “Why now? For two weeks you’ve been convinced he wouldn’t.”

  “You didn’t hear your tone. I’d call if I got that message even if I didn’t want to see the person again.”

  Even if I didn’t want to see the person again. Audrey’s words repeated in Viviana’s head. Is that how he feels toward me?

  How do I tell a man like that that I’m pregnant with his child?

  Maybe I don’t if he never calls me back.

  She scrolled through her contacts again and chose another number. It picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, baby. How are you?”

  Viviana blinked back tears. “Good. I miss you. Boston has been fun, but I’m thinking about getting my own place in Cairo and coming back to work for you if there’s still an opening.”

  “There is always an opening for you. You don’t need to rent a place; your room is just as you left it.”

  “I do, Dad. That’s part of why I needed to leave to figure it out. I need a space of my own.”

  “Then we’ll find you one.” There was chatter in the background and her father said, “I’m not asking her that. Sorry, your brothers are here.”

  “Tell Dylan yes, I will make it for him when I come back.”

  Her father laughed. “She knows you too well, and she said yes, now can I finish my conversation?”

  Viviana laughed, too. When she’d first started her journey to find herself, she’d thought she needed to leave this part of her life behind. She was beginning to see that she could have both—she could be herself and be with her family. “I love you, Dad.”

  He cleared his throat. “I love you, too, baby.” Then he growled. “I have to go, Viv. Your brothers are laughing at me, and I may have to beat them. When will we see you?”

  Viviana smiled because the worst her father had ever done to any of them was yell. “I could come home for the weekend. I want to give my job two weeks’ notice.”

  “You never did tell us what you do out there.”

  Yeah, and I’m probably going to keep that one to myself. “I’ll text you with the info about when I’m coming.”

  Chapter Eight

  ‡

  Grant was on his way back to Boston when he saw he had a voicemail from Viviana. Not calling her for two weeks had never been his plan. When he’d first gotten to Aruba he’d told himself he’d call her as soon as he made some progress. After he’d located Stiles, he’d told himself he would call her once he solved the mystery of what had happened to his brother.

  If his brother’s death had been due to negligence, Grant would be heading to Viviana’s straight from the airport. But there is no good way for this to play out.

  He listened to her voice message several times and had to remind himself that he barely knew her. Was it possible to miss someone when your time with them had been so brief?

  She sounded upset, and it tore at him that he was the reason. In his public as well as his private life, he had a solid reputation for being responsible. He wasn’t the love ’em and leave ’em type. Just because something didn’t morph into a long-term relationship didn’t mean it couldn’t end on a good note.

  He knew he needed to call her back, but his head was still spinning from what Stiles had told him. He was confused, angry, and deeply saddened by the situation . . . all to a degree that was foreign to him. He strove to remove his emotions from the equation so he could better decide what do, but it was proving impossible.

  Grant was used to being prepared for nearly every outcome. He hadn’t prepared for this. He hated feeling out of control.

  Everything Stiles said matches the tone of Patrice Standfield’s journal. She was jealous of my mother, jealous of her happy marriage. Would that have driven a woman like her to kill, though?

  The phone numbers and lists of names in her journal might have been a hit list. Some of the deaths had been attributed to natural causes or accidents, but after what Stiles had said it was pretty obvious what had happened.

  A cover-up of that magnitude would have taken not only a significant amount of money but also powerful connections—all of which Patrice would have had. Can I say with one hundred percent certainty that Stiles’s version is true?

  No.

  So, do I tell my family what I learned? It might destroy the progress they’ve made.

  I could lie. I’ve gotten good at it, but the idea of more sickens me.

  Viviana, I wish I had met you a year ago.

  Or a year from now.

  I can’t start a relationship in this headspace.

  He dropped his phone into the breast pocket of his jacket. I will call you. Just not yet. Not while this storm rocks my family.

  When this is over, if you’re angry, I’ll woo your forgiveness with a shower of flowers and gifts.

  If you’re sad,
I’ll do whatever it takes to return a smile to your face.

  Just not today.

  And, unfortunately, not tomorrow either.

  A week later, Viviana was sipping bottled water instead of her normal afternoon coffee when the woman at the desk next to her fanned her face and said, “Why were there no single men like that in Boston when I was single? I wonder if my husband would consider an annulment.”

  Stella was one of the few reasons Viviana would miss Boston. She was a constant source of hilarious outbursts. One more week, I might as well ask. “Who are you in love with now?”

  Stella waved her over. “Look at this video. Seriously, I wouldn’t kick any of the Barringtons out of my bed, but most of them are married. Grant isn’t, though. Take a close look and you tell me if you wouldn’t agree to just about anything with him.”

  Grant? Must be something about that name because I’ve already done just about everything with one of those.

  There was no way it could be the same one. She took Stella’s phone and swayed on her feet when she saw that it was indeed the man she’d spent three weeks trying to forget. The video was a clip from the news. The announcer was speaking, “. . . along with the normally reclusive billionaire Grant Barrington, CEO of Barrington Financial, who also made a substantial donation to the foundation.”

  “Grant Barrington,” Viviana said aloud.

  “Gorgeous, right? You’re single. You should try to snag a guy like that.”

  “How do you know he’s not married?”

  Stella laughed, took her phone back, and smiled down at the video. “I shamelessly stalk them on social media. I can’t help it. The Barringtons are kind of a big deal in Boston. I love to live vicariously through them. Can you imagine being that rich?”

  “No.” Viviana shook her head and returned to her seat on shaky legs. “I wonder what that does to a person.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’re all stuck-up assholes, but since I’ll never meet them I like to imagine they’re not. Sometimes I daydream about having them over for a backyard barbeque just to blow my neighbors’ minds. I find shit like that funny. People would want to know how and why, and I’d just shrug and say why not.”

  “Yeah, why not?” Was that why he chose me? He thought it would be different . . . funny? Of course he did. Why else would he pretend to be broke?

  Oh, my God, tell me I wasn’t a joke to him. It was easier imagining him married.

  Her hand went protectively to her stomach. I’m not a joke, nor are you.

  “Are you okay?” Stella asked. “You look a little green.”

  Viviana grabbed her purse and stood up. “I’m not feeling well. Could you tell Dave I went home?” What’s he going to do? Fire me?

  “Sure.”

  Viviana was out on the street in a blink of an eye and in the back of a taxi a moment later.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  Viviana did a quick search on the Internet for Barrington Financial then she read off the address. On the way, she called her best friend. “Audrey, I can’t meet you for our run. I not only know his last name, but also where he works.”

  “Holy shit. Do you want me to come with you?”

  Viviana loved her more for asking, but she said, “No, but I need you to give me another one of your mom talks because I’m so angry I might slug him. He’s rich, Audrey. Do you know what that means? Everything he said to me was a lie. None of it was real. He’s probably been laughing about it since. I bet he thought it was hilarious that I had no idea who he was.”

  “Calm down, Viv. You don’t know that.”

  “I’m going to confront him, Audrey, but I’ll tell you right now that if he is as big of a dick as I think he is, I’m not going to tell him about this baby. I’ll give him one chance to sound like a human being and not some egomaniac. That’s it. If he’s not a good person I’m not letting him near my child. This baby will never feel like it’s not good enough. Never.”

  “You need to calm down, Viv. You can’t go to see him like this.”

  “It didn’t work, Audrey. I still want to punch him.”

  “Should I start looking for bail money?”

  “Maybe . . . No. I’m going to be a mother soon. I can’t have a record or they’ll never let me volunteer in a school. But he needs to see how much he hurt me. He needs to know that the way he treated me wasn’t right. I’m not a joke. I’m a person and I don’t care if we did have sex before we should have, he should have had the decency to return my call.”

  “Be careful, Viv.”

  No, not this time. This time I’m going to say exactly how I feel and let the chips fall as they will.

  Chapter Nine

  ‡

  In his office, Grant leapt to his feet, nearly dropping his cell phone as he did. “What do you mean Asher found Stiles?”

  Lance’s voice rose, revealing how worried he was. “I mean he tracked him to a town in Canada. I didn’t even know he was looking for him. All I know is Emily called me up in a panic this morning because Asher asked Andrew to go on a trip with him but wouldn’t tell her to where. The last thing Andrew needs is to have to pick between Asher and Helene’s uncle. I don’t know what Asher was thinking.”

  Fuck. This is my fault for stalling on telling them. “Where is Asher now?”

  “When I spoke to them they were heading for the airport.”

  “Shit. Okay, call Ian and tell him we might need him. We either have to stop Asher from going or get to Stiles first.”

  “I know. I told him not to go, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He’ll listen to you, Grant. I mean, we all want to find out what Stiles knows, but not like this.”

  No, not this way. It’s time for me to tell them what I know.

  “I’ll stop Asher, then we need to have a family meeting—without Mom and Dad. Are you free?”

  “I can be. Willa will want to be there, too.”

  Grant almost said that wouldn’t be a good idea, but she was family. They would all find out eventually. “Fine. Call Kenzi and Dax, also. I have to go now or I won’t catch Asher before he flies off.” He hung up before Lance had a chance to respond.

  Following his gut, he called Marc Stone. “Marc, I need a specific private plane to immediately discover it has mechanical difficulties. Asher’s. He located Stiles. He has Andrew with him. After I hang up with you I’m going to try to reason with him, but in case that fails I want him stuck on the ground.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Marc said.

  “No, make it happen.” Grant hung up abruptly again and dialed Asher’s number. When Asher didn’t pick up, he called Andrew. “Andrew, it’s Grant.”

  “Grant, I’m with Asher. We found Stiles.”

  “I know. Put him on the phone.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “I need to talk to Asher.”

  “If you know something about Stiles I have every bit, if not more, of a right to know. Helene needs answers as much as we do.”

  Grant sucked in a deep, calming breath. “Then put me on speakerphone.”

  “Fine. We can both hear you now.”

  “We’ll fill you in when we get back, Grant, but we found Stiles. Andrew and I are heading up there to get some answers out of him,” Asher said in a hardheaded, overconfident tone.

  “Are you at the airport yet?”

  “We’re pulling in now,” Andrew answered.

  Come on. Come on. Just then a text arrived from Marc confirming landing gear issues had been discovered on Asher’s private plane. Plan B was a go. Now back to plan A. “Turn around and come to my office instead. I’m calling an emergency family meeting.”

  “A what?” Asher barked.

  “We need to talk. All of us without Mom and Dad. There is something I need to tell everyone.”

  “No way. I’m not giving Stiles another chance to run,” Asher answered.

  “He can’t run. I have people making sure he stays put.”

  “How? We�
��ve only known his location for hours,” Andrew asked.

  “I’ve known for a week,” Grant admitted.

  “You knew where Stiles was and didn’t tell us?” Grant could picture Asher’s face flushing with anger. “What else are you not telling us? Probably not much or you would have said something. He wouldn’t talk to you, would he? Well, he’ll talk to me.”

  “Don’t go see Stiles until after we talk.”

  Asher made a frustrated sound. “Sorry, Grant. We’re going. If you want we can compare stories when we return.”

  “Andrew, I want to speak to Asher privately. Could you take me off speakerphone please?”

  Andrew started to say, “I don’t see—”

  “I know, but do it,” Grant interrupted.

  “Okay,” Andrew said in a tone full of both respect and trust. “Here’s Asher.”

  “Asher?” Grant asked.

  “Yes,” Asher answered impatiently.

  “Wake the fuck up and listen to me. You’re scaring the shit out your wife, and you’re about to put Andrew, who we just got back from a dark place, into a very bad situation. You have too much to lose to continue to let your temper control you. You’re a father now. Your place is with your wife and son. Andrew’s place is with Helene. I said I would handle finding Stiles and I have. Come to my office now, and I’ll tell all of you what I know.”

  A much more humble Asher asked, “Why would Emily be scared?”

  Grant sighed. “Because she loves you but also knows you’re a hothead with things like this. You have a good woman, Asher, but you’ll lose her if you don’t start thinking like a team with her.”

  “Emily knows—”

  “She called Lance because she was so upset.”

  Asher was quiet for a long moment. “I hate that this has hung over our family as long as it has. I just want us to be free of it.”

  “I feel the same way,” Grant said calmly. Unfortunately, things would likely get worse before they got better, especially when everyone heard Stiles’s version of Kent’s death. “But you need to go home, apologize to your wife, hug her if she’ll let you, then come to my office.”