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“Miss Ryan.”
“Daphne,” I corrected. “Where’s my car?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Where’s my car?”
“In the garage, where else would it be?”
“I’d like my fob back and to be shown where the garage is.”
“You can have both of these by calling Stevenson. He’ll have Sam or Jack show you.”
In other words, Why are you bothering me with this?
“We need to talk,” I told him, coming farther into the room.
Inexplicably, he appeared panicked for a moment, before he schooled his features and queried, “And why would we need to do that?”
“Because I’m concerned about your son’s intentions, and his true affections, and I have control of my sister’s money. I figure you know this, but I’ll tell you anyway. My father didn’t come from money. He turned a dying local hardware store into a multinational company, and he didn’t do it by being an idiot.”
“No one said he did.”
“And so,” I carried on like he hadn’t spoken, “when he carved his fortune up to give to the three women he loved in his life, he did it carefully, with forethought and planning.”
Richard’s eyes flicked behind me in a manner I twisted at the waist to look that way.
Ian was lounging in the doorjamb.
He looked good enough to eat.
Eat.
“Touché,” I said.
He grinned at our inside joke about me eavesdropping last night, and him sneaking into this conversation now.
“Good morning,” he replied.
It would be when I had coffee.
“Don’t mind me,” he prompted.
I returned my attention to Richard.
“I can’t, for undue reasons, withhold Portia’s money,” I informed him. “Though, for due reasons…”
I let that lie.
“And what would those due reasons be in regard to my son?” Richard asked between gritted teeth.
“Well, I did mention not too long ago my concerns about his intentions and affections,” I reminded him.
“Daniel is besotted with Portia,” Richard declared.
Besotted.
I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and started tapping on it.
