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“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to eat Pad Thai in the United States again,” Oriana complained. “It was transcendent.”
After dinner, Nora and Alan returned home, Alexa and Reese cleaned up the plates, Alexa put Benny to bed, and Reese headed to his office for some late-night work. This left Oriana, Brea, and Grant at the table with a bottle of wine, Oriana’s head whirring with fear, and her ears perked to hear a knock at the door. Since Grant’s appearance, she’d felt that the blackmailer wasn’t far behind. She couldn’t shake it.
“I’ve never made it to Thailand,” Grant said, swirling his wine in his glass. “How long were you there, Brea?”
“Years,” Brea answered solemnly.
“Wow!” Grant said.
“And she hasn’t been back to the States since 2000,” Oriana said, which was a fact she still couldn’t fully master.
Grant’s jaw hung open with shock. Slowly, he raised his wine glass to Brea and said, “To your first day back home, Brea.”
Brea raised her glass and clinked it against his and Oriana’s. “It’s been an emotional day.”
“I have so many questions,” Grant said, palming the back of his neck. “You left when you were a very young woman. But why? Did you hate the United States? Did you just want to go on an adventure?”
Brea’s eyes flickered toward Oriana’s. Something strange and cold dropped into the base of her gut.
“My husband died,” Brea explained. “And my career had fallen off the rails. I didn’t know where to go or what to do, so I left.”
“That must have been very hard,” Grant said.
Suddenly, Oriana was struck with the realization that although they were still relative strangers, Grant was her older brother, a man who would want to protect her in any other reality. The fact that he wasn’t Reese was a blessing, in a way. Oriana had technically lied to Reese all these years about her past, but Grant hadn’t known anything about it.Which meant Grant wouldn’t judge her as harshly. She hoped.
So, Oriana heard herself say, “We’ve gotten ourselves involved in a terrible situation, Grant.” Her tone was very stern and dark.
Brea gave her a look of shock.
“We need advice,” Oriana breathed. “I don’t know who else to talk to. And the end of September is right around the corner.”
Brea shrugged and dropped her chin, clearly at a loss.
Grant studied Oriana curiously. “I have a hunch this has nothing to do with art dealing.”
“It’s art dealing adjacent,” Oriana said, her shoulders sagging forward. “And I don’t want to be too explicit. But Brea and I are responsible for something that happened back in 1998. We didn’t think anyone else knew about it but us. That is until the beginning of September, when I began receiving messages from a stranger. They’ve threatened that they know what we’ve done and are demanding an obscene amount of money to keep quiet.”
Grant crossed his arms over his chest. His face was stoic yet not judgmental. Oriana had a strange hunch he’d been blackmailed before in his own business dealings, but she wasn’t sure why.
“I imagine that whatever this person knows wouldn’t be good for either of your careers.” Grant arched his eyebrows, catching on quickly.
“Not in the slightest,” Oriana answered.
Grant sighed deeply. “I suppose this is the reason for your reunion?”
Oriana and Brea nodded.
“Right. Well. I'm sure this is a particularly anxious time for you both.”
Oriana felt as though she hung onto his every word. Relief flooded through her chest, and she breathed easier, her lungs filling.
“Let me put you in contact with a private investigator,” Grant began. “Roland and I have used him extensively over the years, and he always comes back with answers. Always. I mean, he will do anything.”
Oriana stuttered. “I already have a great private investigator. She found Brea for me.”
Grant tilted his head. “I see. Well. Just in case your investigator is no longer available, or you’d like to try our guy out, I’ll leave his name and number here for you. It’s up to you.”
Grant reached for a clean napkin and wrote out the private investigator’s name and number, which he’d apparently memorized long ago.
