The Temptation (Filthy Rich Americans 5)

I perked up. “Handling it? How?”

“I asked, but she wouldn’t elaborate.”

“But it seemed like she had a plan?”

Sadness clouded his eyes. “Yeah.”

I frowned and dropped my gaze to the tabletop. “Maybe this is part of it.”

He asked it hesitantly, like he was cautious to put the idea out in the world. “You think she faked her death?”

“I don’t know.” It was better than the alternative. I returned my attention to him, and the rest of the restaurant faded away. “I told her to break up with Ansel, too, but I didn’t stop there. I encouraged her to get out and start a new life, free from her father’s control. I said, ‘Show everyone you can do it on your own.’”

His broad chest expanded with his deep breath and perhaps a little hope too. “So, she took whatever was in that safe and used it to run?”

I shook my head. “Again, I don’t know. It didn’t seem like she brought anything out with her after she finished with the safe, but she was in there a long time. And when she came out, she seemed anxious.”

Alarm widened his eyes. “Like she was scared?”

Jillian had come flying out of her father’s bedroom with determination etched on her face, not fear. “It was more like whatever she discovered, she wanted to act on it right away.”

“But no clue about what was inside?”

“No.” I lifted my shoulders in a hopeless shrug to disguise my crushing disappointment. “It could be anything.”

Because Wayne Lambert lived to hoard secrets and apply them at the right time to get whatever he wanted.

The conversation lulled, and as if he’d sensed it, the waiter appeared with our lunch order. I stared blankly at my salad, waiting for the man to move on so I’d be alone with Vance and could speak freely.

Except Vance beat me to it when the waiter was gone. “If she did plan it,” he said, “then she had help.”

I’d had the same thought, and up until today, Vance had been my biggest suspect. “But who? Tiffany?”

He considered it. “Maybe, but she couldn’t do it alone. She doesn’t know how to sail.”

“A lot of Jillian’s friends do, though. Her friends . . . and your friends.”

He cut into his salmon and took a bite, but he seemed too lost in thought to enjoy his food. Was he running through a list of possible suspects?

“I can ask around.” He paused abruptly. “Should we tell the police?”

Was he kidding? “Tell them what, exactly? That I broke into her father’s safe?” I scowled. “Look, if Jillian went to such extreme measures and didn’t tell us, then I have to think she doesn’t want to be found.”

His eyebrows tugged together. “I’m not sure what to do with that information.”

“I am,” I said. “I want to know what’s inside Lambert’s safe.”

His blue eyes were clear and sharp as he evaluated me. It was obvious he was curious, but he was also cautious and smart, and maybe just as calculating as I’d been warned. Rumor had it the Hales didn’t do anything unless it directly benefited them.

Vance didn’t need money. The only thing I had to offer him of value was my expertise.

Or your body.

I crossed my arms, leaned them on the table, and turned to give him a sultry look. “Don’t you want to know?”

Rather than lean toward me, he straightened. “No, I don’t.” That was surprising, and whatever look was on my face, it forced him to elaborate. “Emery, this town is full of secrets, and I don’t want to dig any of them up. Sometimes,” he searched for the right way to express himself, “it’s best if they stay in the dark where they belong.”

Instinctively, my fingers curled into fists. He had no fucking idea what he was talking about. Secrets had taken everything from me, and now I demanded justice.

Or revenge.

At this point, I couldn’t tell the difference.

“So, that’s it?” My tone was pointed. “You don’t care to know what happened?”

He scowled. “I’m not saying that.”

“Right. Well, good news. Looks like you’re off the hook with your little bet with Jillian.”

He looked weirdly pained, and it gave me pause.

“Interesting,” I said finally, but there was no warmth in my voice. “Still going through with it because you care that much about a stupid race?” Especially when he couldn’t be bothered to learn what happened to his friend?

Darkness filled his expression, and it made my body go still. He was the picture-perfect playboy heir on the surface, but a wolf lingered beneath his façade. One with sharp teeth and a desire to eat his enemies.

“I don’t care about her boat or winning a fucking race,” his tone was resolute, “even though I probably will. I don’t care about beating Jillian at our bet, or winning at all, for once in my damn life. What I do care about is that I made a promise to my friend—possibly the last one I’ll ever get to make.” His intensity sucked me in until I was drowning in his striking eyes and powerful voice. “I will keep it.”