Chapter 10: What He Didn't Say

Weston's POV

I buttoned my shirt wrong and fixed it on the lawn.

Delaney was still in the loft, dressing with her back to me, and she had not said a word since the car doors slammed.

That was fine. I needed a minute.

Marissa Dunn stood on the terrace of the chairwoman's house with a glass of white wine, looking out at the water.

She turned when she heard my footsteps on the stone.

"Weston." She smiled. "What a lovely surprise."

"It isn't a surprise. How much is my uncle paying you?"

The smile held for about a second.

"I don't know what you mean."

"The photographer at the coat check. The dinner, the door, the phone that lit up in your clutch.

"Every time my uncle has a plan, you turn up with a good reason."

"That's a lot of coincidence for one afternoon."

"It's a lot of coincidence for one week."

She set the glass down on the stone rail.

She was very good. I had watched her work a room for years, and I had never once seen her stop smiling.

She stopped now.

"I'm not going to say it out loud," she said, quietly. "Not on her terrace."

"Then say it with your face."

She looked at the water and not at me.

"He holds my father's debts," she said. "All of them. The house. The mortgage on the house."

I felt something go still in me, and then sour.

"Whatever he's got on you," I said. "I can pay it."

"You can't. It's not money he wants." Her voice shook once and steadied. "He wants me close to her."

"To Delaney."

"To anyone you love, Weston. He said it that way. Anyone you love."

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