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“You’re a good grandma.”
“Grandma…I guess I am. I like the way that sounds.” She knocked on the office door before she opened it.
“It suits you.”
Crow looked up from his desk, wearing a suit and tie. He usually wore jeans and a t-shirt, but he must have more professional business to take care of. I’d never seen him in a suit before, and it was amazing how much more intimidating he seemed.
I hated to wear suits.
“Griffin.” He rose from behind his desk and walked around to give me a hug. “Glad you’re here. We’ve got lots to do today.”
“Should I change?” I asked, looking down at his slacks.
“No, you’re fine,” he said. “I have a meeting with some vendors. I want you to sit in and just watch. Observe and learn.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
Pearl moved into her husband and kissed him on the mouth. “I’ll see you later.”
“Alright, Button.” He gave her ass a gentle spank as she walked away.
She shut the door and left us.
Crow grabbed a folder off his desk. “We’re moving to the conference room. Save your questions for later.” Like the leader he was, he immediately issued orders.
I didn’t respond to people telling me what to do, but this time, it didn’t bother me. Reminded me of Vanessa, actually.
“I’m guessing Vanessa was happy when you told her?”
I nodded. “Very.”
“I wasn’t sure how she would feel about you being gone all day.”
Even her own family underestimated her. “Vanessa doesn’t need me. She has her own passions and her own responsibilities that don’t involve me. She needs her own space and her own ambitions. It’s a part of her life I have nothing to do with, and I should have nothing to do with. She needs me the way a woman needs a man, but that’s it. The rest of the time, she doesn’t need me for a damn thing.”
Crow looked at me, a slight smile on his lips. “Well said, Griffin.”
Thirteen
Vanessa
A part of me missed having Griffin right upstairs. When I took my lunch, I could spend it with him, eating and screwing on the dining table. Or if the gallery was slow, I could close early and spend the afternoon with him. But having him work directly with my father every single day was a dream come true.
It was all I ever wanted.
I’d dreamed of having a husband my father would embrace like a son. Now they were friends, two men who respected each other. They had their own relationship, commonalities that had nothing to do with me.
It was perfect.
Spending my day painting in the gallery and running the business was the best utilization of my time. The day passed quickly, and I enjoyed every second of my line of work. When I painted in the gallery, customers walked inside to see my brushwork with their own eyes. They were usually impressed by the images I could create from memory, and after conversation back and forth, they usually took home one of my pieces.
It was a dream job.
A dream that only happened because Bones believed in me. He told me to drop out of school and bought me this gallery. He believed in me more than anyone else, even my parents. His faith was probably based on a mixture of love and obsession, but that didn’t change anything.
I sat at my desk and looked out the window, seeing the empty sidewalk at the hottest time of the day. It was humid in Florence, so most of the tourists were in the museums or eating gelato.
I noticed the blacked-out car across the street, with completely tinted windows and unusual rims. It wasn’t a small car that usually traveled down these narrow streets. Bones’s truck stuck out like a sore thumb because those kinds of vehicles weren’t common in the city. The fact that the windows were completely blacked out was disconcerting as well. A dread grew inside of my heart, and that sensation immediately reminded me of Knuckles, the man who broke in to my apartment and kidnapped me.
Or was I just being paranoid?
I didn’t consider myself to be a paranoid person. I only worried about things when danger was looking me straight in the face. I turned back to my computer, not trying to make it obvious that I was suspicious.
A few minutes passed, and another car just like it parked on the side of the road.
There was no way that was a coincidence.
My heart started to race in my chest. My palms grew damp with sweat. The adrenaline associated with fear spiked in my blood. There were no guns in the gallery. All I had were random objects and my fists.
The front door on the first black car opened, and a man dressed completely in black stepped out. In a black leather jacket and with a terrifying demeanor, he looked like bad news. Other men got out as well.
