Chapter Seventeen
L etting Greyson drive me home wasn’t the wisest decision.
He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo, which gave me the impression he was there for me as he’d claimed—like my brother had sent him.
First, I was warned off Pulse360. Now, I’d observed Jewel entering that private club. They were connected.
But how?
Greyson had shoved me into his lap to hide me from Jewel Hadley. With my curiosity piqued, more questions rose to mind.
That place was so not a gallery.
The scent of Greyson’s rich cologne lingered in the air. He was intoxicating and effortlessly commanding, gripping the steering wheel with a force that was possessive, fingers steady, arms relaxed, the power in his hands undeniable, with every turn in direction precise.
Eventually, we drove by familiar landmarks of Beverly Hills.
Then we blew past Cameron’s turn.
I threw Greyson a concerned glare. “You missed it.”
He didn’t respond, just kept driving.
Finally, he parked outside the front of an impressive hotel. I’d driven this way on numerous occasions during my visits, but didn’t recognize the building—it was new.
Greyson reached for his jacket off the backseat and shrugged back into it.
“What’s your last name?” I said, needing to hear it.
He sat there for a beat, as if considering whether to answer, then met my gaze. “Why?” His voice sounded calm, but there was something in his tone, something almost sinister that made me blink at him.
A simple question, but his response made it feel like I had just stepped into a different world.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first. The silence stretched between us. Was he testing me? Challenging me?
I tried to steady my racing heart. “I just thought—”
“You thought…” he interrupted, the corners of his lips turning up slightly, but not enough to be called a smile.
I shook my head, unsure how to respond. “Never mind.” I couldn’t help but feel the weight of that question linger.
“Willa.” He leaned back slightly, his gaze unwavering. “You’ve stepped into my world uninvited.”
“You drove my car back. I didn’t ask for that.”
He climbed out and walked around the car to my side, opening the door and offering me his hand like a true gentleman.
I climbed out, struck by his words and curious as to where he was taking me. Late night drinks, perhaps. Where he could take pleasure from berating me for visiting his secret club. But I would get the chance to question him, too.
There was no bellman to greet us. It felt strange. Hesitating, I held back.
He arched a brow. “Intrigued?”
“Where are the valets?”
“We don’t need a valet. We’re fine parked on the street.”
Still, there was no one out here. The soft blue lights appeared subdued inside the hotel. Not brightly lit like you’d expect.
“Want an exclusive?” he coaxed.
“Interview you?”
That made him laugh. “Hardly. A sneak peek.”
“To what?”
“The Beverly Majestic.” He tilted his head, and it looked charming “After you.”
This tall guy oozed sensual energy, and I felt an undeniable magnetism that pulled me closer to him. I was close enough to touch his arm if I dared to.
He pulled a cardkey out of his jacket and held it to a panel near the impressive doorway.
The doors glided open, welcoming us in.
We stepped into the expansive foyer, where the very air seemed to be filled with reverence for the majestic lobby.
The doors slid closed behind us with a woosh.
A sense of intrigue morphed into danger—the “fuck around and find out” kind.
The walls were bathed in a blue ethereal light, while beneath our feet, the marble tiles gleamed.Opulent decor exuded extravagance in every corner, every curve, every polished surface.
We stood silently, me getting my bearings and him looking around as though trying to see this setting from my perspective. The reception desk was hauntingly still. No guests mingling. No staff scurrying. No voices or whispers or any sign of life.
We were alone.
“Where is everyone?” I walked on ahead, the burn of his stare penetrating my back as I soaked in the modern luxury that blended with a classic sophistication.
His brooding silence continued to raise the tension. I turned to face him with an accusatory glare. Had he planned on getting us a room?
As though reading my mind he said, “We can talk privately here.”
That placated me a little.
Getting to spend time with him away from the scrutiny of my brother was a good idea.
Finding out more about Greyson was an opportunity I’d not imagined. A thousand questions flooded in, but I’d have to remain guarded before I spilled the accusations about him that I had heard from Chad earlier today. That Greyson was involved in something sinister. And he’d dragged my brother into it, too.
Greyson exuded a quiet confidence from his obvious intellect, and a refined sophistication that resulted in effortless charm. His kind of grace spoke not of arrogance, as though the world itself bent subtly to his will.
He had the demeanor of an artist, like the ones I’d met in New York.
It felt comfortable to be in his company.
From above, a multi-tiered light fixture that mimicked a waterfall showered down on me, and for a split second I flinched at the optical illusion of it striking me.
He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Like it?”
Teasing him, I lifted a shoulder in what was clearly a snub, though I couldn’t look away from the lights reflecting the optical illusion of water falling, the spectacle a dazzling display.
I couldn’t keep this nonchalant attitude for long—it was all too stunning.
“The hotel opens this week.” Sentimentally, he looked around and went to say something but shook his head instead, as though unable to find the words.
“The architecture is…” I tried to find the words.
He narrowed his gaze on me. “No one cares about that.”
“I do,” I said softly.
His lips curved into a smile.
I pointed out the white marble columns with accents, drawing his gaze upward to an expansive ceiling adorned with hand-painted motifs. “See the way that bends, it reminds me of a cathedral.”
His expression softened.
The space provided a modern touch, displaying lush plants that instilled a sense of tranquility.
“This is beautiful.” I turned around and peered up, amazed.
Greyson watched me. “The lighting works. Thoughts?”
“I’ve stayed in some of the most amazing places, but this is…remarkable.” I tried to absorb every detail, admiring the extraordinary craftsmanship of the structure. “Do you know the interior designer?” I took a wild guess. “Is it you?”
“No.”
“Is it your hotel?”
He smiled. “No, I’m not a hotelier.”
“Then what do you do?”
“I admire beautiful things.” He stared at me.
“Are you hitting on me?”
“Willa, I believe we’ve already established you and I are friends. And that is as far as we will ever go.”
“Of course,” I said. “You’re not my type.”
“Right, because that would make me a narc.” He grinned, easily amused.
“And you’re so not that.” I winked.
“How can you tell?”
“I can tell.” Didn’t need to say I’d lived with one for the last year. “You thought about me, tonight. You were outside that club because you sensed me being there might be an issue. Not sure how you knew I was there, but I will find out.”
He tilted his head as though to say, “Close enough.”
I frowned. “I interrupted your evening. Sorry if I did.”
“You’re lucky I made it in time.”
“I wasn’t going in.”
“Spying?”
I stepped closer to him. “What’s so intriguing about your club?”
What were Chad’s words? “People are turning up dead who are connected to that place.”
If true, and Hersey had suspected criminal activity, then Greyson was potentially part of a conspiracy.
It was more pleasant to look around and not think of the consequences when I delivered this news to Cameron. That a colleague at work suspected my brother of having corrupt contacts. Greyson being one of them.
Cameron would come to see me being there as useful.
I looked around again at the seamless blend of modern and classic elements, revealing the soul of the creator woven into the way the walls defied gravity.
“We had a top architect design Cole Tower,” I said, proud of our skyscraper.
He looked intrigued. “Grantchester.”
I shot Greyson a look of interest. “You’ve heard of him?”
“Kinda.”
“Maybe he was the architect for this place?”
“Why do you say that?”
I pointed to the pillars. “He incorporated myth into one of the pillars in the Cole Tower foyer. Maybe it’s his signature. Apparently, that’s what architects do.”
“The elevators at Cole Tower are pretty cool.”
“You visited?”
“When Cameron ran the company.”
“Henry runs it now, my older brother.”
“You’re like them,” he mused.
“How so?”
He arched a brow. “Hard to tell what you’re thinking.”
I walked beside him, sensing there was so much more to this man. “I don’t like games.”
“I’ll make a mental note.” His broad smile was disarming, his smoldering charisma making it difficult for me to look away because he really was striking. I sensed a kind of vulnerability, yet at the same time an obvious inner strength.
“If you’re thinking of taking me to a room,” I said, “I’m not going.”
He stood towering over me, as though to intimidate. “Room?”
It was the way he teased me, as though drawing amusement from my naivety.
“My brother will ask where I’ve been.”
He shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t want to be anywhere near him when you tell him where you drove his car.”
I stepped back. “Does he go to that club?”
He let out a long sigh. “No.”
“Why did you bring me here?”
“You tell me.”
“Greyson, why did you return to my brother’s place, only this time you came with a lawyer?”
He met my gaze.
“If you want me to share anything with you, prove we have trust,” I said.
“You first.”
I folded my arms. “There’s this guy I met at work. He’s very junior. But he wanted to share something important with me.”
“At the job you were ordered to quit?”
I waved off that detail. “His boyfriend was murdered. A journalist. Chad suggested he has evidence to prove it.”
“How is this relevant?”
“He gave me a name.” I studied Greyson carefully. “Dean Hersey.”
His reaction was subtle, but it was enough for me to sense Greyson knew something.
“That’s why I was at that club,” I admitted. “I was following in Dean’s footsteps.”
“Where were you going next?”
“Marina Del Ray. To a yacht club. Same one you’re a member of.”
He widened his eyes. “We should go.”
“Not so fast. Tell me what you know.”
“I know you’re stubborn.”
I moved closer, close enough to stand on my tiptoes and lean in for a kiss, flirting with the man with magnetic chemistry. “I like you.”
“I can see that.”
I stared at his lips. “What else do you know?”
He seemed to mull over his answer for the longest time, and then said, “The morning I came over to your brother’s, the same morning we met again in his kitchen, I was there to talk about an incident.”
“Incident?”
His eyes were brimming with emotion. “My ex-girlfriend was in my swimming pool.”
“Ex?”
“Yes, we were no longer together.”
“You didn’t want her there?”
He brushed his fingers over his face. “She drowned.”
I stepped back, face flushed from misreading him. “Drowned?”
“Yes.”
Then I realized… “Why do you need a lawyer?”
“Why do you think?”
I blinked up at him, heart pounding with the danger of our aloneness. “No one thinks you did it, though, right?” I blurted out, regretting it immediately.
“Those who know me, have no doubt of my innocence.”
“There’s no motive for you to kill her?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “In the interest of honesty, Willa, she was causing some disruption.”
“What kind?”
“She was moving in dangerous circles.”
“And you think they killed her for that?”
“She was a good swimmer.”
I swallowed hard.
I was closer to this man than I had ever been, and the need for more answers consumed me. “Where were you, when she died?”
“In bed. Asleep. Had no idea she was on my property. She had no key to the house. Atticus came over in the morning and we discovered her together.”
“Last Thursday?”
“Yes.”
That was five days ago. Recalling Greyson’s melancholy mood in the kitchen, me talking about stupid muffins, and coaxing him to play chess while he was freshly grieving her death. God, why couldn’t I read people better? Then again, he’d seemed sad instead of grief-stricken. I hadn’t known him well enough to explore why.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me then?” I asked.
“I was in shock.”
“Did you try to resuscitate her?”
“Atticus pronounced her dead. He’s a surgeon.”
I stared up at him. “Was she drinking?”
“We’re waiting on the tox report. Takes a while.”
I gave a nod, suddenly realizing the weight of his loss.
Greyson looked up at the ceiling, then back at me. “She was very…sweet. Complicated. Did some questionable things, but…”
“What was her name?”
“Amelia.” Greyson looked away as he recalled her. “She was special to me.”
“Thank you for sharing this.”
“We’re both grieving the loss of someone we loved. You with your boyfriend, and me with Amelia.”
Why did he have to say it like that, like he could reach out and touch my agony, like there was a connection between us that made it possible to cross this ocean of suffering together. Soothe it, somehow.
“This is not fodder for the press, you understand?” he said firmly.
“Of course, totally off the record.”
His expressive eyes bored into my soul, conveying a wealth of emotions with the subtlest changes.
“You didn’t have to share that,” I said. “Why did you?”
“Trust is an elusive thing. It’s honesty you need so you take what I have to say seriously. And you don’t return to Huntington Beach.”
A chilling sensation washed over me as I recalled something Chad had said about people dying—people tied to that club.
“Was Amelia a member of that club?” I asked, throat tight with concern.
“You are relentless.” Greyson walked away, toward an elevator.
He pressed the UP button, his finger lingering a moment too long. The doors slid open with an eerie smoothness, and he stepped inside, his deep brown eyes locking onto mine as he turned to face me. “Stay down here, if you like.”
“Where are you going?”
“Up.”
“What’s up there?”
I had only seconds to decide. It would be reckless of me to step in there with him, but I’d driven all the way to Huntington Beach with numerous questions, and this man had the answers.
And it was close to midnight.