“What the fuck?” Gabrielle’s voice is a shriek that I’m surprised doesn’t shatter the glass on this side of the building.
“Language, young lady.” My grandmother’s tone has switched to that of a schoolmistress from a century ago. I almost expect her to assign Gabrielle detention, or whatever it is they did in those days.
Landon and I exchange looks; then I cautiously peer through the window.
My grandmother and Gabrielle are in an office with a bar on the wall opposite the grand oak desk. And from the looks of it, red wine is dripping down Gabrielle’s face and has stained her white sundress. My grandmother is holding an empty wineglass in her hand.
No one else is in the room.
Why the heck is Granny drinking wine?
Gabrielle wipes the wine out of her eyes. “What the fuck did you do that for?”
“You honestly didn’t believe I would ask for a glass of wine to celebrate you kidnapping me, did you?”
Gabrielle appears taken aback by the question—like that’s exactly what she thought.
“I didn’t kidnap you. You came willingly with Bernard.”
“When your ex-boyfriend tells you that he’s going to kill your granddaughter unless you go with him, I’d hardly call that ‘willingly.’ Would you, Miss Mendes?”
Gabrielle appears not to have an answer for that.
“So what do you get out of all this?” Granny asks her.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Sure, it is. When it comes to my life, it’s very much my business. Besides, what else will we talk about until those not-so-charming men return?”
I want to update the rest of the team on what’s going on, but we can’t risk Gabrielle overhearing us. And given Liam’s team’s radio silence, they might be in the same position we’re in—unable to communicate without the risk of being discovered.
Even Jayden and Connor are silent, awaiting our reports.
“Are you doing this for love or for money?” Granny asks.
Gabrielle doesn’t answer, but whatever is on her face is the only answer Granny needs.
“Please don’t tell me you’re in love with Bernard. Because, darling, you can do so much better than that old man.”
Gabrielle snorts a laugh. “Thatold man is the same age as you.”
“I never claimed to be a spring chickadee,” my grandmother says with an indignant huff I know to be faked. She’s a brilliant actress, but I know her too well. “But you are in love, no?”
Again, Gabrielle doesn’t answer.
“It’s not that boorish lawyer, is it? Tyler whatshisname?”
Gabrielle makes anas-ifsound.
“Is he at least young and handsome?” Granny presses. “Oh, you simply have to tell me. I’m not getting out of this alive, so you might as well entertain me before I die.”
“You won’t die…not unless you don’t cooperate.”
Granny raises her chin slightly. “Maybe I don’t want to cooperate. Maybe I’m happy to go down in history after dying in this great adventure. People are more likely to remember my name if I die at the hands of the mafia than if I die from a stroke. One will make me legendary, the other will leave me no different than any other star who died of old age.”
She provides a dramatic pause before adding, “So tell me all about this love of your life. We have no idea how long we’re going to be waiting, and I’m an old lady who has to live vicariously through others. Especially since it’s been a long time since my dear sweet Philip died.”
Philip? Grandad’s name was Patrick.
