These Games We Play

chapter fifty: hotels

I wasn't sure I slept that night after Lia and Cam left, I kept digging. I had a theory. A theory that might have just revealed the name of Grayson's father. I couldn't find that much on him but the resemblance was uncanny. I was starting to think that I hadn't been to far off about my guess with something about the boys' names having to do with there father. It just wasn't their middle names.

The next morning, Jameson called to me from the other side of my fireplace, and I pulled the candlestick on the mantel to trigger the release.

"Did you find what I found?" he asked me. "Two of the four charities have connections to victims of the fire. I'm still piecing together the rest, but I have a theory."

"Does your theory involve Toby having been a patient at Camden House and potentially losing his memory after the fire?" I asked. Jameson leaned toward me. He was close enough to kiss me and I was dying for him too. I wanted him to kiss me and I would forget everything.

"We're brilliant." I thought about the rest of what I'd discovered. He hadn't mentioned Sheffield Grayson.

"Heiress?" Jameson leaned back and assessed me. "What is it? It was obvious to me that he hadn't looked up anything about Colin's Way beyond the charity's namesake. Obvious that he hadn't seen the video I'd seen. Without a word, I pulled it up for him on my phone. I handed it over. As Jameson watched, I finally found my voice.

"His eyes," I said. "And his last name is Grayson. I know that Skye never told you anything about your fathers, but you all have last names as first names. Do you think..." Jameson handed the phone back.

"Only one way to find out." He came to stand right behind me.

"We could go out your door, like normal people, but one of Oren's men is stationed outside, and I doubt anyone on your security team would sign off on you going to visit my mother." Going to visit a woman who'd tried to have me killed was a bad idea. I knew that. But I excelled at going along with bad ideas. And Grayson was, which meant that he'd been conceived twenty years ago-not long after the fire on Hawthorne Island. What were the chances that was a coincidence? There was no such thing in Hawthorne House. And right now, the only person who could answer our questions was Skye.

"Oren isn't going to be happy about this," I told Jameson. He smiled.

"We'll be back before anyone realizes we're gone."

☆☆☆☆

Jameson knew the secret passageways like the back of his hand. He got us to the massive indoor garage unseen. He pulled a motorcycle off a rack on the wall and solved the puzzle box where the keys were kept. He walked back over to me and traced his hand over my jawline.

"As much as I love your glasses, I think you made the right choice wearing contacts today." He told me as he gave a helmet. Once he did, he planted a quick kiss on my lips and went over to get his own. I was still trying to recover from it whilst he put his own helmet on.

"This is a horrible idea," I told him as I put the helmet on.

"Do you trust me, Heiress?" Jameson had donned a leather jacket. He looked like trouble. The good kind.

"Not even a little," I replied. That was a lie and we both knew it. He threw my a lopsided grin and climbed onto the motorcycle and I climbed on behind him.

☆☆☆☆

Skye Hawthorne was staying at a luxury hotel-a hotel I owned. It was the kind of place that had caviar on the room-service menu and offered in-room spa services. I had no idea how Skye was paying for a room, or if she was paying. The idea that this was her punishment for an attempt on my life was infuriating.