Page 74 of Fish out of Water
“We’re pulling your car to the back exit right now.” Michael followed behind us as Grant walked down the halls with long strides that made it clear he knew exactly where he was going. “I hope tonight won’t affect your opinion of us.”
“I’m sure this can be overlooked.” Grant didn’t slow down as we headed straight for a set of heavy metal doors. They opened and, as promised, Grant’s car was waiting. One of the employees opened the passenger door and Grant slid me into place. A waiter set a large paper bag on my lap before closing the door, muffling the conversation still going on outside.
I couldn’t hear everything, but I picked up a few words.
One of them coming more often than the others.
Mother.
I held the bag tight to my chest as the scent of cooked meat and potato filled Grant’s hellaciously expensive car.
What in the ever-loving world had I gotten myself into?
I should have left those damn keys where they were.
Should have let Penelope starve.
Should have—
Grant’s door opened and he slid into his seat, jaw tight as he pulled away from the awning covering the back entrance to a supper club that I was starting to think wasn’t really a supper club.
“Why were they all talking about your mother?”
Grant’s hand flexed where it gripped the top of the wheel, his fingers stretching before wrapping back into place.
Like he was trying to force himself to relax.
“My mother is a powerful woman.”
I sat a little straighter in my seat. “What makes her so powerful?”
Female empowerment was something I’d only recently been able to explore.
Because I was raised by people who didn’t really think it should exist.
Grant was quiet for a minute. Finally he sighed. “I should have told you the truth from the beginning, Jules.”
“The truth about what?”
“Who I am.”
“You’re not Grant Servantes?” The possibility that he wasn’t who I initially thought wasn’t entirely unexpected at this point.
Not after what I’d just seen him do to those two men.
“I am. That is my real name.”
“So you don’t own a consulting business?”
“I do.”
“Is that really your house?”
“Yes.”
Those were all the big things that I could think of. Anything else had to be minor. “Then what wasn’t the truth?”
He pulled onto the street leading to his house. “I’m not from here, Jules.”
