“Not nothing. They love their wives.”
“They didn’t marry for love. Plus, if Dominic’s as devious as I think he is—and I’m usually right about these things—he’s going to wait until all of you are married, then take the paintings.”
I breathe deeply. Tolyan wouldn’t be saying this if it weren’t the most likely scenario. The last thing I want to see is disappointment on my brothers’ faces because of my history with Dominic.
The portraits have far more sentimental value than Dominic can imagine.
“Can you focus on Julian’s dealings with women?” I say. “He’s aboveboard in business, but not with women because he doesn’t respect them. It shouldn’t take that long.”
“Fine. I’ll let you know. By the way, I have a lot of dirt on Dorothy Brown and her darling husband. There are several possibilities if you want to take them out.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll consider it.”
One of the reasons Andy’s been able to do what he has—and get away with it—is because of his parents. They’ve been using their influence to protect him. I regret making the deal five years ago, but back then, I didn’t have the power to bring them all down.
And the old deal is still holding me back.
“I can compile a dossier on Dominic, too,” Tolyan says conversationally.
“That won’t be necessary. I do owe him one, after all.”
“You’ve paid it back a million times over.”
“Have I? Can you put a price on a broken heart?”
The annoyed rumble deep in his throat is more eloquent than a cuss word. “Everything has a price, Lizochka…even love.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Elizabeth
My Monday morning—when I arrive at the foundation’s office—is filled with dealing with the detective assigned to the…package case.
Slightly balding and with a florid complexion, Detective Nolan has a presence as big and comforting as Santa Claus. He does his best to use a calm and confident voice, letting me know he’s got this.
He asks all the predictable questions. Ex- and current boyfriends. Any threats, verbal, written or otherwise. Former employees who might bear grudges. And so on.
I bring Andy up when the detective probes about my past relationships, but don’t tell him the whole truth. Andy’s referred to as a guy I had a few dates with some time ago who I ran into last weekend. Dominic’s a generous donor to a new cause I’m hoping to champion.
Only when it comes to Nate do I tell everything—he and I are good friends, and it would be impossible for him to do such a thing. He adores dogs.
I thank the detective for his time and effort, then take care of some foundation business. Threats or not, work must go on. I can’t let so many people down just because of some personal problems.
My office is the largest at the foundation, immaculate with Persian rugs and large windows. The oak furnishing and the sedate pale cream and yellow color scheme are something Grandma Shirley chose when she took over the family’s philanthropic efforts and folded them into the foundation. I kept both, not wanting to waste money on redecorating even though Patrice thought it would be acceptable to change a few things. My desk has nothing but a few neatly stacked documents for me to review. I grew up having a messy desk, but Grandma Shirley cured me of that.
I lean back in my seat and look at the framed photos of people the foundation’s helped since I took over. They look at me from the built-in shelves, their smiles brilliant. I wait for satisfaction to stir, but instead, I feel like the walls are closing in…and suddenly, I can’t breathe. My vision starts to blur, and the smiles grow dim behind an oppressive fog settling over me.
Everyone wants a piece of me, and I’m running out of pieces—a broken, nearly empty vessel. A scream wells within me.
Shut up, shut up, shut up! You’re doing meaningful work. Stop being selfish. Stop being ungrateful. Everyone the foundation has helped deserved it.
Guilt grinds me down, and I try to concentrate on breathing steadily in and out. I don’t have time to waste. There are people counting on me to deliver. I can do and become what I want after every child in the world is fed, educated and cared for.
Rhonda leaves early in the afternoon to pick up her girl, who isn’t feeling well, and then it’s just me, Patrice and a few other people on the floor. I keep my office door open as a gesture of invitation for anybody to drop in if they need to chat. It’s one of a few areas where I’m different from Grandma. She preferred to keep herself away from the employees.
At around six thirty, my phone beeps. I pick it up and see a text from Tolyan.
Need some damage control.