Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Avery
T he weight of my secret felt heavier than ever, pressing down on my chest. But I knew I couldn't keep it from him any longer. It wasn't fair to him, and it certainly wasn't doing our relationship any favors.
“Brody,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper, “there's something I need to tell you about why we're really here in Switzerland. And no, it's not because I have an unhealthy obsession with chocolate, though that would be a lot easier to explain.”
His eyes met mine, concern etched in their depths. “What is it, Spark? You know you can tell me anything.”
I nodded, steeling myself. “The truth is, coming to Switzerland wasn't just about our business. I… I'm trying to uncover some family secrets, to maybe finally get some answers to the millions of questions my cousins, sisters, and I have been asking for years.”
Brody's eyebrows shot up so fast I was worried they might fly off his forehead and into orbit. But to my immense relief, he didn't look angry. If anything, he looked… amused?
“Family secrets?” he repeated, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “And here I was worried you were going to reveal a secret alien baby or something.”
I couldn't help but laugh, the tension that had been building inside me for days finally releasing. “An alien baby? Really, Brody? I think you've been watching too many sci-fi movies.”
He shrugged, grinning. “With all the secrecy and tension, I didn't know what to think. Family secrets are way less scary than some of the scenarios I'd cooked up in my head. Maybe even slightly anticlimactic after the secret spy thing that wandered through my mind.”
His easy acceptance and humor made my heart swell with affection. “So, you're not mad that I kind of used our business trip as a cover? I mean, we’re still doing business. Just with a side of Nancy Drew.”
Brody reached out, taking my hand in his. The touch sent sparks shooting up my arm like I'd just stuck my finger in a socket. A very sexy socket.
“Mad? I'm just glad you finally told me. And honestly, I'm kind of excited. Uncovering family secrets? Sounds like an adventure to me. Though if we end up in some 'Da Vinci Code' shit, I'm blaming you entirely.”
I squeezed his hand, overwhelmed with gratitude and a hefty dose of 'holy crap, how did I get so lucky?' “Thank you for understanding. And for being here with me. I promise, if we end up running from Swiss guard dogs or scaling the Alps, I'll take full responsibility.”
“I’ll always be here for you,” he said softly, pulling me into a warm embrace that felt like coming home after a long day of, well, keeping secrets and feeling guilty.
“Now, tell me everything. What kind of secrets are we talking about here? Hidden treasure? An embarrassing collection of Beanie Babies? Or maybe your great-aunt was a world-class bank robber who stashed her loot in Swiss vaults?”
I laughed and began to explain the mysterious circumstances surrounding my family's wealth and the questions that had plagued us for years, a weight lifting off my shoulders.
Brody listened intently, asking thoughtful questions and offering support, only occasionally making terrible puns or suggesting outlandish theories involving yetis and time travel.
For the first time since we'd arrived in Switzerland, I felt like I could breathe freely.
And if breathing freely involved inhaling the intoxicating scent of Brody's cologne, well, that was just a bonus. A very, very nice bonus.
The next morning, we stood before an imposing Swiss law firm that could only be described as what you'd get if you asked a Bond villain to design a Rubik's Cube, then super-sized it and filled it with lawyers.
My hand trembled as I reached for the door handle, the reality of what I was about to do finally hitting me.
Brody's hand found my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze that sent tingles down my spine. “You've got this, Spark,” he murmured, his voice a delicious rumble that made my insides tremble.
His presence was a steady anchor amid my swirling emotions, like a sexy lighthouse in a storm of family drama.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open, stepping into the lobby where my family's secrets awaited. The interior was all polished wood and leather, exuding an air of old money, smelling like rich mahogany and crushing self-importance.
My shoes clicked against the marble floor as we approached the receptionist, the sound echoing in the cavernous space.
“Avery Grant,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “I have an appointment with Mr. Rothschild.”
The receptionist, who looked like she moonlighted as an ice sculpture, nodded primly and directed us to wait. I fidgeted in the world's most uncomfortable chair, designed, no doubt, to make peasants like me squirm.
Moments later, we were ushered into a wood-paneled office that seemed to belong to another century.
Mr. Rothschild, a stern-faced man in his sixties with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, greeted us with a curt nod. As he retrieved a weathered file from a locked cabinet, I found myself fidgeting with my notebook, my anxiety mounting.
Brody discreetly took my hand, offering silent support. I clung to his touch like a lifeline.
“Miss Grant,” Mr. Rothschild began, his voice as crisp as his immaculately pressed suit, “I understand you're here to inquire about your family's financial history.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without either squeaking or unleashing a torrent of nervous word vomit.
He placed a yellowed document on the desk between us with the gravity of someone handling the nuclear codes. “This legal notice, issued decades ago, establishes a trust fund for your family from an unnamed ‘silent benefactor.’”
My eyes widened, and I felt my grip on Brody's hand tighten. A trust fund? A silent benefactor? This was already more than I had ever expected to find. Not that I had any clue what I had expected.
With shaky hands that would have made me lose spectacularly at Operation, I took the document, my eyes scanning the cryptic language. Beside me, Brody leaned in, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the legal jargon.
Mr. Rothschild watched us impassively, his expression more unreadable than ancient Sanskrit, while my mind raced with questions about my family's past.
“Can you tell me anything more about this benefactor?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
His eyebrows twitched ever so slightly, the most emotion I'd seen from him since we walked in. If this guy ever smiled, I was pretty sure his face would shatter.
“I'm afraid not, Miss Grant. The identity of the benefactor was kept strictly confidential. Even I don't have that information.”
I left the law firm with more questions than answers, the document clutched to my chest like a lifeline. Outside, I paced along the sidewalk, my mind whirling with possibilities and theories.
Brody leaned against a nearby statue, watching me with concern.
“Maybe we should grab a coffee and go over it together?” he suggested gently. “There's a cute café just around the corner. Unless you'd rather continue your audition for 'Switzerland's Next Top Pacer'? I hear the grand prize is a fancy new watch.”
I nodded, grateful for his steady presence and his ability to make me smile even when my brain was doing its best impression of a tornado.
We sat at a quaint café, steaming mugs of coffee between us, as we poured over the document. My pen flew across my notebook as I jotted down potential leads and questions. Brody offered insights, his adventurous spirit now focused on solving the mystery alongside me.
As the afternoon wore on, my frustration grew. Why would someone set up a trust fund for my family and remain anonymous? What was the purpose? What were they hiding?
I pushed my notebook away, sighing heavily. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
Brody reached across the table, his hand covering mine, sending little electric shocks up my arm. Damn him and his sexy, comforting touch.
“We'll figure it out. Together. And hey, if all else fails, we can always fall back on that secret alien baby theory. Conspiracy theories are all the rage these days.”
His words, simple as they were, filled me with warmth like a shot of top-shelf whiskey on a cold night. I wasn't alone in this anymore. And apparently, I had a backup career as a professional eye-roller.
“You're ridiculous,” I said, but I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips.
“Ridiculously handsome? Ridiculously clever? Ridiculously good at making you smile when you're stressed?” he waggled his eyebrows, looking like a cartoon character come to life.
“All of the above,” I admitted, a comforting heat spreading through my chest. “Now, can we focus on the mystery at hand before I'm tempted to kiss that smug grin off your face?”
Brody's eyes lit up. “Is that supposed to be a deterrent? Because let me tell you, it's having the opposite effect. In fact, I might just have to be extra smug from now on.”
I threw a sugar packet at him, laughing despite myself. “Focus. We've got a family secret to unravel, and I can't do that if I'm distracted by your… everything.”
“Fine, fine,” he conceded, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But just remember, when we crack this case wide open, I get to cash in on that kiss. Deal?”
My heart skipped a beat. This man.
“Deal. Now, let's get back to work before I change my mind.”
We spent the rest of the day walking along the picturesque streets of Zurich, brainstorming theories about the benefactor's identity.
Our conversation bounced back and forth like a demented game of verbal ping-pong, punctuated by the gentle lapping of the Limmat River beside us and the occasional curse word when we hit a mental dead end.
“What if,” Brody mused, pausing to admire a display of expensive watches, “your great-grandfather was actually a time-traveling cheese mogul who saved the Swiss banking system with his futuristic fondue recipe?”
I snorted. “Right, and I'm secretly the long-lost princess of Liechtenstein. Come on, Sherlock, keep it in the realm of possibility.”
“Hey, with the day we've had, I wouldn't rule anything out,” he grinned, that smile doing funny things to my insides.
I swatted his arm, trying and failing to suppress my own smile.
Our banter shifted from wild speculation to thoughtful analysis as we considered the implications of this revelation, like two philosophers debating the meaning of life.
Back in our hotel room, I sat cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by notes and the trust fund document. My hair was a mess, my eyes were probably bloodshot, and I'm pretty sure I had pen marks on my face.
Brody emerged from the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. The sight of him, all damp and disheveled, sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with our mystery.
“Why don't we take a break? We could order room service, watch a movie. Give your mind a rest.”
I hesitated, torn between my drive to solve the mystery and the comfort Brody offered. But as I looked at him, his eyes full of care and concern, I realized that maybe a break was exactly what I needed.
I turned to him, feeling a surge of determination. “Okay, but I'm going to uncover the truth, no matter where it leads.”
Brody nodded, pulling me closer. “And I'll be right here with you every step of the way. Someone's got to keep you from accidentally overthrowing a small European nation in your quest for answers. And in the meantime, I have a surprise for you.”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. “Oh? And what might that be? If you say a Die Hard marathon, I swear to God…”
He grinned that heart-stopping smile that had first caught my attention all those months ago and still made my knees weak. “You'll see. But I promise, it'll take your mind off trust funds and silent benefactors for a while.”
I felt a surge of affection for this man who had become my partner. Whatever secrets my family's past held, whatever challenges lay ahead, I knew that with Brody by my side, I could face anything.
Even his terrible taste in movies.
But for tonight, I was content to let it all rest, to lose myself in whatever Brody had planned for tomorrow.
“Alright,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Show me what you've got. But I'm warning you, if this involves any form of public yodeling, you're on your own.”