Kalen and Griffin were taking the threat seriously. But nothing had happened for a while and I was beginning to think whoever was behind Bailey’s troubles had given up.
After we ended the call, I got ready for dinner with my parents. I still hadn’t heard from my brother. Again, I tried not to worry, but that was impossible. The twin instinct inside me said he was still breathing. Though I didn’t see myself as psychic or anything of the like, I had to trust that he was okay.
When I arrived, Mom air-kissed my cheeks lest she mess up her perfectly applied lipstick. For a woman who’d had my brother and me late in life, she still looked good.
“Elizabeth.”
“Mom,” I said.
“Lizzy,” Dad said, walking into the room. He wrapped me in a big hug.
“You’re just in time,” Mom said. “Let’s retreat to the dining room. How is your brother?”
Before answering, I took my seat at the table better suited for entertaining large parties. I was torn between giving them the assurance they wanted and protecting Matt’s privacy.
“He’s good,” I said in compromise. It wasn’t exactly true. But they didn’t need to worry about him like I did. They would have questions I couldn’t answer and that would further distress them.
The staff came in to serve the meal, which halted further conversation for a time. Dad eventually piped in, giving the news of the day. I had to admit, I wouldn’t know about half of the current events if not for him.
When he was done, I needed to ask the question that had been troubling me since my conversation with my accountant after Matt had cryptically suggested I check my trust. “Dad?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
The sentiment always warmed my heart. Though he and my brother had had a falling out that had yet to be resolved, I saw myself as Daddy’s little girl.
“My accountant said that you’d requested access to my trust?”
When his hands paused in the middle of cutting his steak and he looked away from me, my heart sank.
“I’m sure your father had his reasons,” Mom chimed in.
I kept my eyes on Dad, saying nothing.
Finally, he met my gaze. “I wanted to be sure you were taken care of. Nothing more.”
If anyone else had said those words, I’d question them. But my father had never lied to me, so I nodded. “Next time, just ask me. It felt weird for my accountant to blindside me with that question.”
I had a feeling Dad knew my business wasn’t going well. He’d probably wanted to confirm that I’d been using it to cover the shortfalls. Knowing my dad, he hadn’t wanted to embarrass me by asking me if I was a failure.
“Well. Can we talk about something besides business?” Mom asked. “Tell us about your show this weekend.”
Mom didn’t think my gallery was a business but a hobby. Still, I told them anyway. I made sure to put in that I’d made a promising acquisition of an unknown artist who would take the art community by storm if I had anything to say about it. The preview photos I’d posted on my website had gotten a lot of interest. I wanted Dad not to worry about me. He would likely offer to give me money to keep me afloat if I didn’t have encouraging news. Much like my brother, I wanted to earn my achievements on my own.
When I got home that night, a package waited for me. I hadn’t ordered anything, so I was really curious. No one besides Kalen, Griffin, and his staff knew I lived there. There was another possibility as my finger hovered over the send button to call Griffin’s security company.
Striker.
I put down the phone, which could be a mistake. Someone had targeted Bailey. That was why Kalen had moved me out of my apartment and planted me in Soho. The package could be something very bad. Then again, it could something harmless from Striker. Did I really want some random security guy to see whatever it might be and report it to Griffin?
Cautiously, I slit the tape on the box and pulled out a tissue-wrapped box and a small card. As much as I wanted to see what was inside the box, I opened the card first.
Just in case you have an itch and I’m not around. -S
The small rectangular white box had the word Crave on the lid. Inside was a gray, suede-like pouch. I used the rose gold chain that rested outside to pull out something similar to a silver bullet, but a lot longer. On the side was a button, which I pushed. The bullet came to life with a telling vibration.
I laughed. The man had bought me a wearable vibrator, and I knew where and when I’d wear it.
A few days later when Saturday evening arrived, I was at my gallery in a banging red dress that fit me as though it had been painted on. The sweetheart neckline plunged low, and between my breasts hung the Crave necklace Striker had gotten me.