His Saint (Forever Wilde 5)

“How do you know all this?”

“I had Landen look into it.”

“Why?”

This was the tough part.

“I was worried after everything that’s been happening to you. Thought maybe it was due to your family name or some of the controversial issues the foundation supports. When I asked Rex to look into it, he and an associate of ours discovered this anomaly in the foundation’s beneficiaries.”

“But what does this have to do with me? With my great-aunt’s writing slope? It doesn’t make sense.”

I sat up and faced him so I could tick off points on my fingers as I explained. “So, right now, there is a strip of buildings surrounding your shop. The vacant place between you and the pub is owned by Stiel Corp. Then your building is owned by your grandfather.”

“Wait. What?”

“You know that, right?”

“No. I pay rent to a company called Cross County Leasing,” Augie explained. “My shop doesn’t have anything to do with my family.”

I stared at him. “But Cross County Leasing is just the management company. The building is owned by Jonathan Stiel.”

Augie’s face went pale. “That can’t be right. When I chose the location, I met the owner. His name is John Gravely.”

I knew John was a local man who, like my grandfathers, had invested plenty of money in Hobie property to help keep Hobie’s charm from being washed away by big commercial developers.

“Your grandfather purchased the property about ten months ago. I didn’t realize Mr. Gravely owned it before that, but he’s the type of man who would have made a fair deal as long as your grandfather reassured him it would be well cared for.”

“Grandfather would have told me if he bought the property my shop is on. I think? Why would he have bought it in the first place?”

“To contribute to your future security?” I asked. “Maybe he thought he was looking out for you.”

“He doesn’t make financial decisions based on sentiment,” Augie said with a tight jaw. “He makes them based on profit and returns.”

“Regardless, it doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t have told you.”

“So, wait a minute,” Augie said, turning to face me and drawing his legs up to hug his knees around the thick blankets. “If the family business owns the vacant shop, and Grandfather owns my shop… what does that have to do with this CSP company you’re talking about?”

“CSP owns the building on the other side of you. Jen’s shop.”

“Apple Dots,” Augie added under his breath. “It’s the furthest thing from low-income housing you can get.”

“Right.”

“So, three historic buildings on the edge of the Hobie square all basically owned by my family or associates of my family. And all three entities are into commercial real estate development.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, each of us pondering the long game of this setup.

“Do you think your grandfather or CSP has plans to bundle all three properties and sell to a developer?” I asked.

He seemed to think about it. “My grandfather is cold and old-fashioned in many ways, but I can’t really picture him deliberately targeting my business like that. He wasn’t the best father figure while I was growing up, but I’ve always felt like he loves me in his own way. Granted, his way is hands-off and distant, but it’s there. He was the one who encouraged me to spend time with Melody. And he was the one who suggested I pursue a graduate degree in art history if I wanted to go into the appraisal business. If it had been up to him, I would have joined the family company as an attorney or accountant. But when I clearly didn’t want to do that, he supported my crazy choice to work with antiques.”

“Any idea what the connection could be to the writing slope? Could there be property deeds or schematics inside the box that have something to do with this? Didn’t you say your grandfather gave you the box after Melody passed?”

“Yes, but it’s just love letters. I’ve looked at them since then.”

“Let’s look again now that we know there might be something to look for,” I suggested.

Augie nodded and moved off the bed. As he made his way toward his closet door, I watched the pale, slender expanse of his back and ass in the faded sunlight streaming from a nearby window. He moved with a quiet elegance, which only added to the allure of his beautiful body.

“I can feel your eyeballs on my butt,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s making me self-conscious.”

“You have a stunning butt,” I assured him. “In case I haven’t made that clear.”

“It’s too skinny.”

“It’s perfect.”

“I have toothpick legs and razor-blade hips,” he griped.

“Then you won’t mind if I sink my teeth into your legs and rub my face across your hips.”

He turned to face me. “What are you even talking about right now?”