No. He’d been an entitled prick who’d had everything handed to him on a silver platter, but even as he’d partied and gambled and gone jet-setting around the world, he’d been generous to a fault.
Blakely had also discovered that while he’d been blowing millions on random and pointless things, he’d also established a foundation to assist underprivileged children with college scholarships. He’d been involved in a local fine-arts program, paying to keep art and music in schools that no longer had funding. He’d donated millions to drug-rehabilitation programs and randomly provided money to just about every charitable organization that approached him for a donation.
The information had been brought up in court, which was how she’d discovered the truth. But the prosecutor had implied it was easy to write a check, especially when one needed the tax write-off.
Blakely couldn’t dispute that, but something told her the donations had been more than some accountant telling him it was a good money move. The amount he’d donated in the three years leading up to the embezzlement had been significant. In fact, it had been almost half of what he’d been accused of stealing.
Which made no sense. Why would he steal money only to donate it?
He wouldn’t. Which had been his argument all along. He didn’t need the twenty million. The prosecution had argued need wasn’t the only motivation to explain his actions. But Gray hardly struck her as the kind of person who would steal simply to prove he could.
The attorneys also detailed a contentious relationship with his father. Several Lockwood employees testified to arguments and tension between the two in the office. Gray’s father was fed up with his irresponsible ways and wanted him to take on more responsibility within the company. Their implied motive for the theft was revenge against his father, but Blakely couldn’t see how stealing twenty million from Lockwood had harmed Gray’s father. Certainly, the company had struggled for several months, but they’d pulled through just fine.
It all circled back to the fact that Gray hardly needed the money. Which was honestly how she found herself sitting in the seat beside him.
She was starting to like him. Starting to realize the man she’d forced into a round hole was really more complicated than she’d given him credit for.
She’d misjudged him, then and now.
The question was, what was she going to do about it?
“Where are we going?” Blakely finally asked, filling the charged silence stretching between them.
“A little place I know.”
That really didn’t answer her question. “Where?”
Gray swiveled his head, studying her instead of the road for several seconds. Normally, especially at this speed, that would have made her nervous, but she had no doubt Gray had complete control of his car.
“Do you trust me?”
What a loaded question. Did she? No, but then she didn’t really trust anyone. And while she was beginning to think she’d misjudged Gray, that didn’t mean she was ready to place her life in his hands.
However, that wasn’t necessarily what he was asking.
“To pick a good place to get food? Yes.”
Gray’s mouth tipped up into a lopsided, knowing grin. He understood precisely what she was saying.
“Excellent. We gotta start somewhere.”
Did they?
Blakely’s stomach flipped at the idea. She wanted to, that was clear. Even sitting this close to him was doing crazy and unexplainable things to her body. Her skin tingled and heat settled deep in her belly. Her panties were damp and he hadn’t even touched her.
He drove her out to a little place near Rainbow Row. It was quaint and small, not exactly what she’d expected him to pick. But even more surprising, she hadn’t heard of it.
“I’ve never been here,” she said, staring up at the front as she climbed from the car. Better that than stare at him as he held open her door. Or get tangled up in thinking how easy it would be to lean into the hard planes of his body, press her lips to his and drown in another mind-bending kiss.
Was it her imagination, or did he linger a little longer than necessary before moving out of her way?
“I’m not surprised. It’s fairly new, but the food is amazing.”
“I guess I’ll find out.”
It was past the normal lunch rush, but there were still a handful of occupied tables. Mostly older women with their makeup and hair done, obviously out for lunch with friends. There were several affluent neighborhoods close by, so not altogether surprising.
The hostess was pleasant and nice, even if she did stare at Gray a little longer than necessary. But who could blame her? Take away the criminal element and the man was a walking fantasy. Polished, but still with the hint of a few rough edges. He carried himself with a confidence that was both attractive and enviable.
But Blakely wouldn’t allow herself to be jealous. Mostly because she had nothing to be jealous about.
The perky hostess showed them to a table in the far corner, beside a window that overlooked a lush garden. The empty tables surrounding them created an illusion of privacy, which might not be a good thing.
Gray held out her chair, brushing his fingers over the curve of her shoulders as he pulled away. All this time, Blakely had assumed holding chairs was simply a polite thing for men to do. Now she realized it was a perfect excuse. That simple touch had sent a low hum vibrating through her body and she was going to spend the next hour fighting to turn it off.
How could she manufacture a reason for him to touch her again?
Nope, she wasn’t going there. Picking up the menu, Blakely studied it rather than Gray. After a few moments, the words actually started to make sense.
Their waitress was friendly, and she obviously knew Gray, judging by their conversation. But she was also efficient, as she took their drink orders and highlighted the day’s specials. Blakely ordered a pecan-crusted chicken salad that sounded amazing. Gray ordered pimento cheese and homemade pork rinds, followed by pan-seared tuna and asparagus.
Once the menus were taken and some soft rolls appeared on the table, there was nothing left to keep her distracted. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
For the first time, Blakely realized Gray had positioned her in a chair with her back to the rest of the room...filling the spot right in front of her with nothing but him. Sneaky man. Had he done that on purpose?
Blakely was trying to decide whether to ask him—because maybe she really didn’t want the answer—when Gray’s cell, sitting facedown on the table, buzzed. Frowning, he flipped it over. The frown went from a mild crease to full-blown irritation as soon as he read whatever was on the screen. Glancing up, he said, “I’m sorry, I need to get this.”
Blakely waved away his apology. They weren’t on a date so he didn’t need to justify his actions to her.
She expected him to get up and walk away, to gain a little bit of privacy. Instead, he just answered the call, so she could hear his side of the conversation.
“Hello, Mother.”
If Blakely hadn’t been able to see Gray’s expression, the tone in his voice would have clearly conveyed his displeasure. She wondered if that was his normal reaction to his mother, or if there was something specific going on between them. Not that it was any of her business.
Hell, she could identify. It wasn’t like she rejoiced whenever her father’s name popped up on her cell screen. He never called her when things were going well.
“Calm down.” Gray’s eyes narrowed, the irritation quickly morphing to something more. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He paused, listening to something on the other end before letting out a sigh. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Hanging up, he dropped his phone onto the table with a loud clatter that made her concerned for the safety of the screen. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I need
to run over to my mother’s house.”
“So I gathered.”
Waving over their waitress, Gray didn’t bother asking for the check. He slipped a hundred into her hand and then stood, holding out an arm for Blakely to go in front of him.
The walk to the car was silent, mostly because she didn’t know what to say.
What she didn’t expect, once they got inside, was for Gray to head in the opposite direction of the office.
Apparently, she was about to meet his mother.
Six
Gray wasn’t looking forward to this confrontation at all. And part of him felt like an ass for dragging Blakely along for the ride. But his mother had been spouting an irate tirade of nonsense and he was afraid to take the time to drop off Blakely at the office, which was in the opposite direction.
With any luck, he could calm his mother and they could be back to work in less than half an hour.
Although, he wasn’t holding his breath.
It had been just about eleven months since he’d last spoken to or seen his mother. Before that, it had been seven years. He’d stopped by the estate after getting out of prison. Although he hadn’t exactly expected the fatted calf to be slaughtered, an acknowledgment of his place in her life would have been nice.
Instead, she’d followed his father’s line and refused to even let him inside the front door.
Who knew if she’d let him inside this time, either. Not that he particularly cared. His mother hadn’t exactly been a warm and loving example of motherhood to begin with. The minute his father disowned him she’d taken that as permission to pretend he didn’t exist.
There was a spiteful, vindictive part of him that enjoyed knowing her friends talked about her behind her back because of him. If nothing else, being wrongly convicted of a crime gave him that perk. Although, it hardly outweighed the cons.
It took about five minutes to get to the estate on Legare Street from the restaurant. Not nearly long enough.
He climbed out of the car and headed for the front door. Blakely slowly followed. He purposely hadn’t asked her to either stay behind or come with him, instead leaving it as her decision.
He figured, after meeting Martin, she could most likely handle his mother in one of her states, anyway.
Gray didn’t bother knocking. Why would he, when the estate had been his childhood home? But it did feel weird walking through the front door after such a long time away. The place looked exactly the same—not a single mirror or piece of artwork on the wall had been changed in almost eight years.
Not surprising, either. His mother was a creature of habit. When given an option, she’d take the path of least resistance every time. One reason she’d made such a perfect trophy wife.
After striding down the hallway, Gray bounded up the wide, sweeping staircase to the second floor and the rooms his mother had claimed as her own long ago. Opening the door to the sunroom, he wasn’t surprised to see her pacing furiously back and forth.
She didn’t turn when he opened the door, apparently so deep in her own discourse that she hadn’t heard him enter. But the minute she spotted him, he became the object of her obvious rage.
Charging across the room, she yelled, “Who does this bitch think she is? Blackmailing me after all these years? I had nothing to do with this, dammit! Nothing. And I’m not paying her a single dollar, let alone twenty million.”
Gray shook his head, trying to make sense of his mother’s words.
But her rant didn’t end there. The words continued to come, punctuated by her slamming fists hitting into his chest and rocking him back on his heels.
Well, that was unexpected.
And so was the way Blakely shot between them, shoving into his mother’s face and pushing her backward. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but get out of my way.”
“Not on your life. Whatever’s going on, it doesn’t give you to the right to physically assault your son.”
His mother laughed, the bitter sound of it sending a shiver down his spine.
“He isn’t my son.”
“Excuse me?” It was Blakely’s turn to be knocked backward. She collided with his chest.
Distractedly, Gray wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tight against him.
His mother’s words startled him, but Gray locked down his reaction and refused to show it. This woman had abandoned him long ago and didn’t deserve anything from him.
“What the hell do you mean?”
His mother’s eyes jerked up to his. The blind fury clouding them slowly faded. “Shit.”
Yeah, that pretty much summed up this whole situation.
Waving a hand in the direction of the sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, she indicated he should sit. Gray didn’t bother following her request. But for the first time, he realized she was holding a piece of paper in her hand.
“What’s that?”
Frowning, she waved the thing through the air. Just by sight, it appeared to be cheap copy paper. The shadow of several lines of text could be seen through it, so it wasn’t very heavy. “This? This would be a blackmail demand.”
“Who sent it?”
“You probably should sit.”
“I’m good.”
“Your father’s going to kill me.”
“Since he disowned me several years ago, I find it hard to believe he’ll care what you say or do.”
His mother shook her head, sadness washing over her expression. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
Somehow, he didn’t think so. Not only had his father ignored Gray’s insistence that he was innocent, but his father had also gone so far as to cut Gray out of his life entirely. What loving parent did that? Gray had always been nothing more than another pawn to the man. Someone his father could control and move at will. And when Gray became a liability instead of an asset, he was sacrificed.
Unlike Stone, whose parents had stood by him, even before they learned the truth—that he’d murdered their friend’s son because he’d walked in on an attempted rape. His friend had kept the details to himself for years, protecting the woman he loved. His family had supported him, accepted him. Hell, they’d thrown him a lavish party when he finally got out.
But despite being innocent, Gray’s family had disowned him, cut him out of the family business and left him alone in the world.
Sure, he could tell himself that he was better off without his mother and father in his life. And, logically, he realized that was absolutely true. But it still hurt like hell when the people who were supposed to have his back had abandoned him.
His mother gave a grimace. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. He wouldn’t care because you know. But he will care that someone else is privy to the dirty laundry he’s so desperate to keep hidden.”
Now that sounded more like his father. “Well, then, by all means, tell me. I’d really appreciate having something I could hold over his head.”
Especially once Gray had proof of his innocence. Even sweeter to demand access to the company, and also have the means to control the strings on the man who viewed himself as the puppet master.
Blakely, who had taken his mother’s suggestion and sat on the sofa several feet away, piped up. “I’m going out on a limb here, but reading between the lines, I’m going to guess that Gray isn’t your son, but he is your husband’s.”
His mother glanced over at Blakely, her gaze moving up and down, taking stock.
What was wrong with him that he wanted his mother to approve of her? Childhood impulses he couldn’t control? Wasn’t he too old to need parental approval for anything? Especially considering he and his mother hadn’t particularly had that kind of relationship to begin with.
Finally, his mother said, “Nailed it in one. She’s a smart one.”
Yes, she absolutely was. The more time he spent with Blakely, the more he appreciated her quick mind. And he was starting to understand her rock-solid sense of honor, too.
“That note. It’s from his biological mother? Demanding money to keep the secret?”
“Pretty much.”
“Twenty million. That’s what you said earlier?”
“Yes.”
Blakely turned her gaze toward him. “Coincidence?”
He knew exactly what she was asking. Was it a coincidence the blackmail demand was the same amount of money that was still missing from the embezzlement? Maybe. It was a nice round figure. Not to mention, the media had been linking that number with his name for years.
But while his release last year had prompted a new flurry of media attention, that had died down in the months since. Partly because both of his friends had taken some of the heat off his back with their own releases and high-profile antics.
But what if it wasn’t? They were still looking for that missing twenty million. Maybe his birth mother thought she deserved it? Or maybe she was somehow involved and never got the money she was supposed to get?
“Who is this woman?”
“I don’t know.”
Yeah, right. That was a lie if ever he’d heard one. His mother might have never gone to college and spent most of her time involved in several charitable organizations coordinating glitzy events, but she was far from ignorant. In fact, she was quite brilliant at gossip and knew exactly how to dig up dirt on just about anyone. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell she hadn’t done—or paid for—a full investigation of her husband’s fling. Especially if the woman was the mother of her “child.”
He wasn’t the only one skeptical. Blakely scoffed. “Please, you don’t strike me as stupid.”
“Why, thank you, dear.” His mother’s voice practically dripped syrupy sarcasm all over the floor.
Blakely ignored it. “You know exactly who your son’s mother is. You wouldn’t be foolish enough to let that important piece of information go until you discovered who it was.”
The Sinner's Secret Page 6