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“I am no one’slover. I am a professional. A reporter. I went to him for help, and he helped. Why does it have to be a sexual thing? Who do you think I am?”
“I don’t know. I thought you were just some fun podcaster, but it looks like you’ve got yourself mixed up with things you don’t understand. Some reporter you are. Get in the car.”
He made a mental note to call his favorite car dealership. It was time for a change of vehicle, anyway.
SIX
CAROLINE
Caroline still shook with rage an hour later. Ryland had taken her to his penthouse apartment, and she’d sought refuge in one of the spare bedrooms. She needed some space before she let her anger get the better of her.
There was a loud and forceful knock on the door. Ryland peeked his head through the narrow opening. “Can we talk?”
She raised a single brow at him. “Can we? Or are you here to make more accusations?”
“No accusations,” he lifted his hand to his heart as if he were making a promise, but she didn’t believe him. Not at all. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“I will agree that I shouldn’t have gone all caveman on you, but I still don’t understand why my brother is getting involved or why he sent you here.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
Ryland looked at her like she was crazy. As if asking his brother what he wanted was the strangest thing in the world.
“Isn’t Wilder your boss?” she asked, incredulous.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Then why don’t you ask him?”
“Because that’s not really how Wilder does things. He sends us work or errands, and we do them because that’s how things work around here. We’re not supposed to ask questions. Though, that’s probably not something you’d do, given the line of work you’re in.”
“You’d be right.”
“So.” He sighed and sat on the bed. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Everything. The vases, the murders, all of it.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Caroline didn’t want to spend her precious time getting Ryland up to speed. It was clear they would just butt heads.
But she had to be the bigger person, as always.
“Have you ever heard of the Vases of Destiny?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Should I have?”
“Well, they’re pretty famous, but I guess it’s art collectors and history buffs that will know about them.” She took a deep breath and sat in front of him on one of two decorative stools in front of the dresser. “Back in the Roman days, the artist Fabiola created six vases. Each was different, but together, they told the story of how to gain immortality.”
“Immortality?” he laughed. “That’s impossible.”
“Well, duh. You and I know that, but the Romans thought it was very real. She was killed for daring to put such magic in her art, and the vases were separated. Each was given to an important general or statesman. Everyone forgot about them until the Second World War.
“The vases and the myth of immortality were rediscovered. But by that time, only three vases were in existence. The legend of the vases claims that you need all six to become immortal.” She rolled her eyes to show Ryland she didn’t believe in such nonsense. “So much time has passed now since all six vases were seen. No one actually knows what happened to the last three vases. Most people believe they were destroyed or lost. Some people also think that they’re part of some rich guy’s private collection.”
Ryland stiffened at these words, and she noticed.
