But these doors were so thick, very solid, and made of real wood.
Biting my lip, I turned the knob. I would have to risk it.
A husky laugh made me freeze.
Crap.
“Well, ain’t that like a catfish in a bathtub,” I grumbled.
But as I leaned against the door, heart pounding and feeling stuck, the voices seemed to be coming from insidethisroom.
I frowned and turned.
Definitely not in the hall. They were right there.
I should have escaped, should have slipped out the door while the coast was clear. Instead, I backtracked, following the male conversation.
Crouching under the side table, the one that held an ugly, oversized vase with fake stocks of feathery grains, I pressed my ear against the wall. Nothing. I could have sworn….
“This is stupid.” I fisted my hands at my side. “Get out of this room, before you’re caught and get in trouble.”
The husky voice murmured again.
“Well, shit.” I crawled on my hands and knees until I reached a covered outlet. It was just a nondescript piece of plastic where a normal wall outlet should have been. I dug my nail behind the covering. The screws, which were loose, popped out.
Stifling my gasp, I couldn’t help but smile when the voices came through clearer. This part of the house was the new addition, and it seemed the electrician hadn’t connected the wiring through here.
“Have you got a bride picked out for Marcellius?”
The voice came through clear as day.
Peering through the hole, I saw a grate on the other side. Maybe it was supposed to be part of the HVAC system, or just a connection through the walls. Either way, I leaned forward to snoop, fear of detection forgotten.
“Several of my capos have daughters. I’ll pick a nice, quiet girl who won’t give him too much grief,” Mr. Grimaldi announced.
“Is there such a girl?”
“Someone who won’t mind his unacceptable tendencies?” Mr. Grimaldi harumphed. “So long as he keeps his preference for his partners quiet, there’s no need to bring his choices to light.”
“This is the twenty-first century, Francesco. Be careful who you talk like that to,” the other voice warned.
“Jacque, I run a multi-billion-dollar empire. Insulting a group of people is the least of my concerns,” the boss sneered.
“Let me explain how this works.” Jacque cleared his throat. “You insult your grandson’s choice in sexual partners. Some of your people will probably applaud. They’re strict, old fashioned, and believe in traditional marriages. You think it’s fine. That you’re winning brownie points with them. But when word gets out—and with technology, that’s a probability—you become the face of homophobia. ‘The rich businessman against the sweet, gay grandson.’ With all the press will come the digging. And when the public digs, they find things. Then I have to work double time to clear up our end and make sure nothing slips into the public eye about yourotherbusinesses.”
“If my legal matters aren’t airtight, what am I paying you for?” Mr. Grimaldi snapped.
“You’re paying for my advice,” Jacque countered. “And it’s this: Let Marcellius’s wife be a girl who’s open to sharing him. He can keep his lifestyle, you can keep out of the public’s eye, and everyone wins.”
There was a long pause, then the boss muttered, “You’re right. But he needs to be settled. Already there are too many rumors.”
“Will he marry the girl you choose?” the lawyer prodded.
“Of course he will. They all do as they’re told.”
My gut twisted with a sickening feeling. Placing the cover back over the hole, I used the corner of my thumbnail to secure the screws enough so they wouldn’t fall out. Later, I would have to come back with something stronger to secure them.
“That old bastard,” I seethed.
