“So you protect her.” Grayson kept his own voice even by sheer force of will.
Savannah stood and took a step toward him, her heels audibly striking the tile. “I know who you are, Grayson Hawthorne.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise him. He had a feeling Savannah Grayson knew far more than most people gave her credit for.
“Do you understand me?” Savannah’s crystal-clear voice went low, her silvery eyes locked on to his. “I know.”
Grayson felt comprehension wash over him. She didn’t just know who he was. She knew who he was to her. And even though Grayson could have stood in a glass elevator in the middle of an earthquake without ever letting his heart rate speed up, he couldn’t shrug that off. He didn’t allow his expression to shift. He didn’t allow a single crack in his iron-clad control—on the surface. But he felt the sting of her words.
Savannah knew, and she clearly didn’t consider him… anything.
“Your sister was arrested,” Grayson told her. Not an ounce of emotion showed in his tone. He made sure of that. “She spent the night before last in jail. I’m the one who got her out.”
“It is not your job to take care of my sister.”
It wasn’t news to him that nothing here was his. “She seems hell-bent on making trouble for herself.” Grayson said that like an observation, nothing more. “She believes your father didn’t just leave.”
“She believes,” Savannah countered, her chin held high, “that our father would never cheat on our mother. But here you are.” She looked him up and down and gave a single, regal shake of her head. “Like I said, you’ll be gone by the time she gets back.”
That can’t happen, Savannah. Grayson had no intention of leaving until the situation with Gigi had been dealt with.
“I am not going to tell you again,” Savannah said slowly. “Get out.”
“Never announce what you’re not going to tell someone,” Grayson advised. “That keeps the focus on you and a bluff you may or may not be able to carry through. Focus on the other person.”
“You don’t want to make me repeat myself.”
Grayson inclined his head. “Better.”
“You are not wanted here.” Savannah sold that statement, wholly and completely. And all Grayson could think was that she had his eyes.
“That’s enough.”
Savannah’s head whipped toward the now-open glass doors to the kitchen and the woman who stood there. “Mom.” Cracks appeared in Savannah’s icy facade: a slight widening of her eyes, a subtle down-turning of her lips. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know, baby.” Acacia Grayson turned calmly toward her husband’s son. “Why don’t you go check on your sister, Savannah, and give our visitor and me a moment alone?”
CHAPTER 20
GRAYSON
Acacia closed the patio doors behind them, sequestering herself and Grayson in the kitchen. She had blonde hair the same light shade as Savannah’s. She was taller than his own mother and wispy thin.
Thinking of Skye had a way of opening old wounds, so Grayson didn’t. “How long have you known?” Grayson hadn’t planned to seize control of this conversation with his father’s wife, but some habits were hard to break.
“About you?” Acacia walked to take a seat at a round glass table. “Not nearly long enough. I would like to think that if I had known earlier, I could have influenced Sheff to do the right thing.” She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and Grayson found himself inexplicably thinking of children’s paintings and tiny handprints in cement. Both had, in all likelihood, been her doing. “I would like to believe,” Acacia continued softly, “that I’m the kind of person who would never hold a child responsible for the actions of his parents.”
Betrayal. An affair. Those were the actions she spoke of. Pushing down all other thoughts, Grayson took a seat across from Acacia. “I wouldn’t judge you if you despised me.”
“I don’t.” Acacia looked down. “Twenty-two months. That’s the straight answer to your question. I found out about you the day of my mother’s funeral, twenty-two months ago.”
Grayson did the math for himself. Twenty-two months ago, Sheffield Grayson had still been alive—and so had the old man. Who would tell a grieving daughter something like that on the day she buries her mother?
“I am not here to disrupt your family,” Grayson said. It felt important to make sure she understood that.
“If you want to get to know the girls, Grayson, I won’t stop you.”
That’s not what I’m here for. That isn’t what this is about. “Gigi doesn’t know who I am.”
Acacia let out a shaky breath. “I shouldn’t be grateful about that, but children look at you differently after they know.” She let her gaze go back to the patio, where Savannah no longer stood. “And once they know that you know.”
Clearly, Acacia’s awareness had been news to Savannah, but the fact that Savannah knew about Grayson’s existence hadn’t surprised her mother. “How long has Savannah known about me?” he asked.
“Since the summer she was fourteen.” Acacia’s voice was steady. “I didn’t know what had changed at the time, but it’s obvious now.”
Grayson’s jaw hardened. “He made her keep his secret?” Grayson didn’t say his father’s name. He wouldn’t inflict the phrase your husband on the woman across from him. But what his words lacked in specificity his tone made up for.
“I doubt Sheff had to make Savannah do anything.” Acacia’s voice was almost too calm. “From what I understand, my parents knew for much longer. Since before…” Her hand trembled slightly on the table. “Since before you were born. I don’t know the details, but I suspect my mother had a word with Sheff. I can just hear her telling him that affairs were one thing, but for goodness’ sake, be discreet, the way my father was.”
Getting your affair partner pregnant was not discreet, especially when her last name was Hawthorne.
“The money was theirs, you know.” Acacia went quiet. The silence was heavy. “All of this, the seed funding for all of Sheff’s ventures…” She swallowed. “If my mother confronted Sheff, it’s likely she issued some very pointed threats.”
Grayson processed that. “He gave me the impression that he was a self-made man.”
“I was unaware that the two of you had met.” Acacia looked down again.
Grayson felt a stab of sympathy but knew he had to preempt any questions she might ask about that meeting. “My grandfather had just passed away.…”
“Yes. Of course.” Acacia blinked rapidly. “I’m very sorry.”
She’s trying not to cry. “Not as sorry as I am,” Grayson told her. His father’s wife wasn’t what he’d expected. She hadn’t lashed out at him once. There was something so… maternal about her.
“You’re welcome here, Grayson.” Acacia’s voice was hoarse, but she raised her head, setting her jaw. “For as long as you want.”
Grayson couldn’t afford to let that mean much. “I suspect Savannah would disagree.”
“Savannah lived to make Sheff proud,” Acacia said softly. “She was a colicky baby, quiet and serious as a toddler. And Gigi was… not.” Grayson suspected that was an understatement. “I used to worry that Savannah would get lost. Her sister looked—looks—quite a bit like my husband’s late nephew.”
Colin, Grayson thought. The reason your husband was out for vengeance.
“Between the resemblance and Gigi being such a cheerful little thing, she had Sheff wrapped around her finger from day one. Savannah always seemed keenly aware of that, even as a baby. But she found her way. She shot her first basket when she was five and never looked back.”
Grayson remembered something, then. “Colin played basketball.” After his death, Sheffield Grayson had founded a nonprofit sports charity in his nephew’s honor.
“So did Sheff, in college. He drove Colin so hard, had such hopes for him.…”