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“Is Olivia still at her house?” he asked as he walked in.
Grayson looked up. “No. She was gone when Nash and I got back from our run this morning. She left the garage door open again.”
Deacon couldn’t help smiling. “She does that often.”
“That’s why Nash stayed there today. He has some plan to put sensors throughout her house and then connect them to an app on her cell phone so she’ll get an alert if something is left open or on.” Grayson shook his head. “I guess our brother is smarter than he looks. So did you meet with Francesca?”
Deacon nodded. “And the woman is as crazy as a shithouse mouse. I gather she was in cahoots with Anastasia to sell the company to Avery.”
Grayson continued to draw as if Deacon hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb. “That doesn’t surprise me. The woman has always been crazy, Deke. You were just too money-hungry to see it.” Since there was more than a little truth to that, Deacon couldn’t argue the point. “So what about her son?” Grayson asked. “Do you believe he’s Michael’s?”
“He could be, but I think it’s more likely that this is all some grand scheme that Francesca cooked up to get back at Michael.”
Grayson stopped sketching and looked up. “Isn’t that what you wanted, Deke? Didn’t you always want to get back at Uncle Michael? And not just for the way he treated us when Donny took us there to beg for money. But even before that, you seemed resentful of him for making millions when Dad couldn’t seem to make a dime.”
Grayson was right. Deacon had wanted revenge. Revenge for Michael ignoring him and his mother when she was dying. And revenge on Olivia for making him feel like a beggar. But not anymore. Now he wanted to save French Kiss and Olivia. Or maybe he wanted French Kiss and Olivia to save him. “Okay, so maybe I was consumed with Michael. But he could’ve helped us, especially when Mom was so sick.”
Grayson stared at him. “Michael couldn’t have kept Mom from dying, Deke. Her cancer was too advanced for his money to have made a difference.” He set the sketchpad down on the table. The top drawing was of a stern businessman in an expensive suit—his eyes intent, his mouth unsmiling. It took a full minute before Deacon realized it was a drawing of him. Was that how Grayson perceived him? Or was that how he really looked?
“Nash thinks that you’re using Olivia to get back at Michael,” Grayson said. “Using her just like you used Francesca to get money for the condos. Is it true—?” His gaze swept to the doorway, and his eyes registered regret.
Deacon turned to see Olivia standing there. She was dressed casually, her sweatshirt faded, her jeans holey, and her flip-flops inexpensive. With her golden hair falling out of its ponytail and her face completely devoid of makeup, she looked young, fresh, and wholesome. Just seeing her filled him with an uncontainable joy. In two strides he had her in his arms and was breathing in all that wholesome goodness. It took a moment before he realized that she wasn’t hugging back. In fact her body was stiff and unresponsive.
Deacon pulled away and noticed what he hadn’t noticed before.
Her normally warm green eyes were cold. The kind of cold that froze a man’s heart.
