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When they arrived at O’Reilly Manor, she was led into Scott’s office where Liam was already seated in one of the two chairs positioned across from the glossy mahogany desk their dad sat behind.
“Sit,” was all Scott had to say to her. There was no grand family reunion and rejoicing she was alive. No emotion was present at all in his voice, just a simple one-word command.
Today was not the day she was going to push buttons, so she went ahead and situated herself in the vacant seat.
He only gave a brief look to his son. “Liam, you can go.”
From the change of Liam’s face, he had expected to be a part of this conversation and wasn’t pleased that he was being excluded. But, like the good little soldier, he up and left, slamming the door shut behind him for extra measure on how he felt about it.
Now that it was just the two of them there in his office, Layne almost wished that Liam had stayed. Almost. The tension and unspoken awkwardness in the air was stifling. Her dad peered at her from across his desk, his hands lightly folded in front of him.
“I thought I lost you like I lost your mother. Do you understand what level of excruciating pain that has been? I don’t know what the hell happened, Layne, but I need to know. And, so help me, if you lie to me about any of it.”
Each time she thought of a way to start off her explanation, it never seemed to be the right thing to say, so she sat there for a solid five minutes under the weight of her dad’s gaze as he waited patiently for her.
“I know I messed up. I met someone, and apparently, he has a history with Franzetti. It was all a series of bad coincidences. Franzetti is going on a bender about some project he’s heard about in the grapevine, and when I didn’t have the answers, he got doubly ticked off.”
Her father leaned forward as this was all news to him. “What project?”
“Some project 227, that’s all I know.” She shook her head.
“227?” He repeated the number back to her.
Layne nodded, affirming he had heard correctly. “He thinks it’s something we’re doing that impacts him, but I have a source saying otherwise.”
“We don’t have anything we are working on with that name, Layne. He’s barking up the wrong tree.”
“I know that, but…” she hesitated to even say anything further given the sensitive nature of it and what her dad’s reaction potentially would be.
“But, what?” Her dad prompted her to continue.
“My source said the project is about me. I mean, it’s not clear how, but that’s all the info I was able to get.”
It was one of the few times she ever saw her dad get taken back in surprise when he wasn’t expecting something.
“Who else here knows about this?”
She shook her head. “Just me.”
“Let’s keep it that way. Where did you get the information from?”
Her teeth lightly bit into her lower lip. “I-I can’t tell you that.”
“You can, and you will, Layne. I’m not going to play games here, not with something like this. If something is going on related to anything or anyone in my organization, there is going to be hell to pay. Especially, if this all turns out to be true, it will make this whole Franzetti situation look as inconsequential as an incorrect weather forecast.”
“He does contract work, and Franzetti was just the last person who hired him.”
“Layne, that doesn’t even make sense. If he works for Mike, then why would Mike be willing to go to these lengths to determine if it has something to do with him?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, that’s why I didn’t say anything because I’m not even sure it’s good intel.”
Scott stood up and circled his desk so he was standing in front of Layne, taking her hands, and easing her up out of her seat. “I will get to the bottom of this. Until I do, this chaotic behavior has to stop. You don’t talk to anyone having anything to do with Franzetti. He’s already going to be livid you made a fool out of him by not actually dying. You got it?”
She nodded in agreement. “Got it.”
“Second, for appearance’s sake, all your jobs are going to be reassigned for now. Once we sort this all out, things will go back to the way they were.”
“And the security detail?” Call it wishful thinking, but she had hoped that she would get a response different than she knew it was likely to be.
