Jules was a distraction he didn’t need now. He had things to take care of. And he understood how she’d gotten wrapped up in what she was doing, her own little investigation. All he’d ever needed or wanted from her was a physical connection. He’d had it—quite a few times—so he was good to go. He didn’t need entanglements, long-term or otherwise. And he didn’t need Jules.
Dalton’s chest contracted in a long, deep sigh. His life was turning to shit, and he didn’t know why. The company he and his brothers had promised their dying grandfather to take on had been infiltrated by crazies, and for the first time in his life, he was allowing a woman to get under his skin. And if he wasn’t careful, the next thing he’d be doing is ending up like his brothers.
Damn it, that wouldn’t be happening, and if the only way to ensure that it didn’t was to avoid her, then he would. He refused to let any woman push him to lose control. The repercussions would be disastrous. And this way, his brothers didn’t have to know that he and Jules had ever hooked up. Right now they were just speculating that that is what had happened, and they could continue to do so. The more they stayed out of his business, the better.
Twenty-Seven
“Honestly, Ms. Sweet, I’m not sure why you’re here. What is it you want to know?”
Jules glanced around the lavishly decorated living room. It was immaculate, with all-white furniture that matched the white carpeting. It also matched the uniform of the maid who had escorted her inside, as well as the white Mercedes parked in the circular driveway. That was too much white. Too sterile for her taste. Too pristine. But Ivan Greene, mayoral candidate, looked right at home standing out in his tailor-made dark suit against all that white.
He hadn’t offered her tea or cookies as Leigh Imerson had done, which led her to believe he didn’t expect her to stay long. “Honestly, Mr. Greene, you aren’t the one I asked to talk with. I was expecting to meet with your parents. I was surprised to find you sitting here waiting on me, instead.”
She could tell from his expression that he wasn’t used to being around those who spoke their minds. “And I honestly can’t imagine what they could tell you, either. How about you telling me what this is about?”
Not before he answered a question of her own. “Do you always designate yourself as your parents’ spokesperson?”
He shrugged. “I’ve found it necessary to run interference for them since I began running for political office. Early on, for some reason, my opponents thought my parents would expose some imaginary secrets they could use as ammunition to hurt my campaign.”
Jules held his gaze. “And they can’t?”
Ivan Greene frowned. “There aren’t any secrets to expose. What you see is what you get. Now, let’s not waste our time. What exactly are you here for? Why did you want to meet with my parents?”
“It’s about the Sylvia Granger murder.” He didn’t blink, which meant he’d known the nature of her visit. She couldn’t be concerned with how he knew for right now.
“Then you’re definitely wasting your time wanting to meet with my parents. They were out of the country on a cruise when that unfortunate incident happened.”
“Were they?”
“Yes. You can check with the cruise line, but that was close to fifteen years ago, and there’s a possibility their records don’t go back that far. You might want to check with the man who was Sheppard Granger’s attorney at the time. I understand he verified my parents’ alibi.”