Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Blaine
My little Sunshine was out cold.
Face half-buried in the pillow, hair a tangle across her cheek, cute little ass poking to the side as she snored lightly.
I told her I’d lock up behind me, but here I was, teetering into stalker territory like I was Lucifer himself. I was sure Killian had watched Brielle sleep a million times. Almost 99% sure of it… I just couldn't prove it. But this was different. This was… oversight. Protection.
Could billionaires be stalkers? Some may have their moments. I call it… quality control.
My Sunshine’s place was small, but she managed to make a house a home, or rather… a rundown apartment into a home. Cheap candles, hand-me-down furniture. All things my baby had to accept to make ends meet seemed like more than just that.
She was too expensive, too spoiled for this lifestyle.
She wasn’t able to be her materialistic, unapologetic self.
Yes, shallow on the surface, but dammit, I loved that side of her.
The little sparkle in her eyes every time she saw something shimmer or gleam.
I just hated that she second-guessed every time she did smile for it.
The kitchen counter was a mess in that way, as if she’d tried to clean and then quit halfway through. The mail was pushed into a tired pile, an open envelope turned face down, the corner of a receipt peeking out like it wanted attention.
I flipped it over.
It was thousands of dollars paid. “Congratulations,” scrawled at the bottom like a bad joke.
People didn’t drop cash like this unless they were buying a car, a house, or their way out of something they didn’t want to talk about. And my girl? She wasn’t driving anything new and she sure as hell wasn’t closing on a house.
The company name sat in the top corner. Vanguard Solutions… It sounded shady, and it probably was. Probably a shell company run by some rich pompous asshole trying to make a quick dollar off of the innocent working-class, but in this case? It was a hell of a lot more than just a dollar.
There was a second, smaller envelope beneath it, torn open and empty. What it said on it, however, had me more confused. Old habits never die, Wes. This one’s on me.
I stared at the words, trying to make sense of them. Wes? She’d never mentioned a Wes. Hell, I didn’t think she had many people in her life outside of me and the dance studio where she worked.
Grabbing my things, I exited her apartment slowly before pulling out my phone. Dialling the very legal PI that Killian kept on standby, I held the phone to my ear as I pulled the door closed behind me.
“It's two in the fucking morning, Porter. Christ,” were the first words out of his mouth.
I could only roll my eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I need something from you.”
He let out a sharp breath. “What do you want?”
“A phone tap. Loan statements. And the asshole hiding behind the company Vanguard Solutions.”
“Fine,” he clipped, ready to end the call.
I hesitated for a moment, staring at the chipped paint on the door. I shouldn’t do what I’m about to do. I shouldn’t. I should earn her trust. I should wait for her to tell me what she needs to tell me.
But unfortunately… I’ve never been one to be patient. “And… everything you can find on Maia Dalton.” The words tasted wrong coming out, but I swallowed them down. She’d thank me for it later.
“I’ll do a full workup.”
I shook my head, descending the steps before stepping out into the night. “I want everything, from her birth certificate to whatever she ate last week.”
He gave a low whistle. “You’re paying overtime for this.”
“Be lucky I’m paying you at all, Tommy,” I scoffed.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, the faint sound of a pen scratching in the background. “I’ll call when I’ve got something worth your time.”
“Make it soon, yeah?” I muttered, ending the call as I entered my car.
My Sunshine had secrets. Not just the kind you hide for pride, but the kind that left her vulnerable. The kind that kept her bleeding in the dark while plastering on fake smiles to hide it. And I was going to figure out every last one of them.
Killian’s office always looked like it had been staged for one of those Forbes magazine headlines. How I’ve never made the cover once with all my charm, and he’s been on twice with all but none is truly above me.
Brielle sat in her office, flipping through notes while he barked into the phone. Delilah, lying upside down on the couch, curls wild as she kicked her feet, used to the barbaric behavior of a man in capitalist distress, noticed me.
“UNCLE BLAINEY!” she squealed.
I could only laugh. Establishing our relationship on the premise of her not spilling the beans on me dating her dance teacher was a rocky start, but dammit, the kid was cute.
“Inside voice, Delilah,” Killian interjected mid-frustration.
She sat up with a pout. “I am inside.”
I smirked, crossing the room as she launched herself into my arms. “Niecy Dede,” I murmured, spinning her once. “What trouble have you been causing?”
“None,” she said too quickly, her curls bouncing as she grinned.
Killian stood from his desk, approaching Brielle’s door before entering, the person on the other line still facing his wrath.
Looking at them through the glass, I shook my head. “I don’t know how Bribri tolerates him.”
“Benny says it's because they spend a lot of alone time together.” Delilah shrugged, blatantly sharing how her butler Benjamin was disclosing some rather alarming information to her.
I shook my head. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Are you still friends with Miss Maia?”
“Change the subject again,” I advised, and she hopped off my lap with a grin.
“Nope!” She seemed all smiles, her little mischievous grin going from ear to ear as I eyed her, resting my elbows on my knees to be at the same level as her face.
“That was our secret, young lady.”
“Secrets can get expensive, Uncle Blainey. Ask Benny, he’ll tell you all about the secret swear jar he made me.”
“I wouldn’t mind putting a few dollars in there myself just to say a few choice words right now,” I murmured with a sigh, pulling out a crisp fifty and handing it to her.
She squealed, snatching the fifty like she’d just won the damn lottery. “Thank you, Uncle Blainey! Your secret’s safe forever.”
Forever, right. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. Great. My most dangerous informant is four—no, five now; it had been her birthday recently, I remembered Killian saying in one of those rare, lighter moments when I remembered why I loved the guy.
Delilah was dangerous… too smart, too nosy, and way too much like me for comfort.
She’d probably sell me out for a lollipop next week. I was a fool to think otherwise.
But as she hugged me tight, curls brushing my jaw, I let myself smile anyway. Because somehow, I didn’t mind being her favorite fool.
Brielle and Delilah had left for lunch. Killian was behind his desk now, sleeves rolled, eyes glued to some spreadsheet as if it were truly the most important thing at the moment.
Me? I was perched on the edge of the desk, mindlessly flipping through Masahiko’s proposal. The numbers were fine, better than fine, but if Shin didn’t slow his expansion, he’d have a dozen furious investors breathing down his neck by spring.
“He’s doubling production in six months,” I said, dropping the folder onto the desk with a thud. “Which is great until the whole thing implodes on itself.”
Killian didn’t look up. “Then we make sure the deal includes oversight.” He tapped something into his laptop, voice flat. “If we’re tying our companies to his expansion, I’m not having another Shanghai incident.”
“You mean the one where you flipped the conference room table to get the board to sign? Very diplomatic, I must say.”
“It worked,” he muttered in response.
I hummed. Couldn’t argue with that.
“Still don’t get why you’re dragging me across the globe,” I groaned, falling onto the couch. “Could’ve sent a nice gift basket, a thank-you card maybe…”
“Sure. Let's send our multi-trillion dollar investment a thank-you basket for trusting us with one of the largest expansions Asia has ever seen.”
“You’re the one making me fly halfway across the world to sweet-talk him about his renovations.”
Killian’s eyes flick up from his laptop. “It’s not sweet-talking. It’s business. He’s a primary investor. His growth is our growth.”
“Sure,” I muttered, leaning back. “Just feels like something that could’ve been done over email.” He closed his laptop as I dramatically let out a sigh. “Right before the holidays, too.”
“You done yet?”
“Probably not,” I said, letting my head fall back against the couch.
“You don’t even have plans for the holidays. Besides, Brielle is conjuring up so many ideas, I’m sure she and Delilah expect you to be there for Thanksgiving.”
“Right,” I said, trying to smother the grin tugging at my mouth.
I couldn’t believe how fucking whipped this fucker was.
Lucifer… the devil himself… charmed by a pretty face to celebrate holidays.
Just the word “holiday” left a sour taste in his mouth, but here he was, practically extending me the invitation himself.
But the grin on my lips faded as fast as it came when Maia’s face drifted into my head. I could only wonder how many holidays she spent working or alone. How many quiet nights she’d had where nobody even bothered to check in.
The image of her curled up on the couch with nothing but the TV for company tugged the strings of my heart. I fucking hated the idea of adding one more lonely season to the list.
My phone buzzed on the table, breaking the thought, and I glanced over at it to see Thomas the PI. Killian didn’t bother looking up as I reached for it.
“Be right back…” I murmured, not waiting for a response as I stepped into the hall.
I held the phone to my ear. “Tommy, talk to me.”
“Got something for you,” he said, his voice somehow rougher than it was early this morning.
“Vanguard Solutions. Paper trail says it's running as some kind of ‘consulting firm,’ but I dug deeper. It's tied up in loan sharking, offshore accounts, and debt collection.”
My jaw tightened. “Maia got tangled with them somehow…”
“Well, not directly.” He began, “Each loan statement I dug up belonged to the name Wesley Dalton. He ran up a few hundred thousand in the last few years. And judging by his current stay in the local rehab center for compulsive gambling, I’d say someone else is keeping his head above water.”
I didn’t need to ask who. My stomach twisted. “She’s paying it off.”
“Well, she finished paying it off. Used the account you gave her access to to make the final payment a couple of weeks ago.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. The same black card I used to let her go spend until her little heart was content, she used it to drag the person who was taking her down out of his own mess.
No wonder she was so burnt out when I first found her. The idea of her quietly bleeding herself dry for someone else’s mess, selflessly at that, made me furious. I didn’t care how much she loved her uncle, this wasn’t her burden to hold and suffocate under.
“Anything else, Sherlock?” My voice came out low.
“Well, she’s blacklisted from every decent job in a hundred-mile radius.
You don’t get that kind of heat unless you piss off someone like…
well, like you or Killian. Tapped her phone for you; all calls and messages will be recorded and sent to you daily.
Couldn’t get a location on the number you sent me, though.
Oh, and as for her backstory? Grew up in a much worse neighborhood.
Her parents? Both gone. Overdose. She was barely ten, but she didn’t know.
Wesley has been her primary guardian since kindergarten. ”
The words hit harder than I expected… maybe because they were sounding all too familiar. I didn’t want to picture her, small, confused, barely old enough to understand.
It made the loneliness I’d already imagined for her feel heavier. She’d been surviving far longer than I would have thought.
My grip tightened on the phone. “And Vanguard Solutions? Who’s behind it?”
There was a pause, like Tommy was weighing whether he should answer.
“Tommy,” I barked into the phone, and he sighed.
“…Calvin Lockwood.”
Running my hand down my face, I let out a tired sigh with the shake of my head.
“Of course it fucking is.”