Chapter 6 - THE DEAL BEFORE THE CEREMONY
Grant did not tell Mara about the list until the last guest left.
She was furious.
“You waited three hours?”
“It was Lily’s reception.”
“My name was on a list belonging to a man who disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“And you decided dancing was more important information?”
“I decided armed federal agents surrounding the estate made you reasonably safe until midnight.”
Mara stared at him.
“That might be the most Grant Holloway sentence you’ve ever said.”
He looked genuinely confused.
“Is that bad?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you made the decision for me.”
That landed immediately.
Grant exhaled.
“You’re right.”
Mara had prepared an argument.
His agreement ruined it.
She blinked.
“That was suspiciously easy.”
“I had a long day.”
“You don’t get credit for emotional growth because you’re tired.”
“I know.”
They stood in the empty ballroom.
Candles had burned low.
Half-drunk champagne glasses remained on tables.
One bridesmaid was asleep somewhere upstairs.
Lily and Evan had left for a hotel in Newport before flying to Italy the next afternoon.
Mara looked around at the wreckage of a successful wedding.
Then back at Grant.
“What does ‘leverage’ mean?”
“We don’t know.”
“You have theories.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
Grant hesitated.
Mara raised an eyebrow.
He corrected himself.
“Right.”
He sat.
“Reid knows stopping the Harbor Row project made you part of the public narrative.”
“So he thinks hurting my business hurts you.”
“Possibly.”
“Does it?”
Grant looked at her.
“Yes.”
The answer came without performance.
That frightened her more than charm.
Mara sat across from him.
“Grant.”
“I’m not pretending yesterday didn’t happen.”
“The kiss?”
“Yes.”
“It was one kiss.”
“It was a good kiss.”
“That is not legally relevant.”
“I’m temporarily unemployed. I have time for irrelevant observations.”
She laughed despite herself.
Then grew serious.
“I don’t want to become someone people use against you.”
“That is not your responsibility.”
“I know.”
He smiled faintly.
“You’re better at this than I am.”
“I charge hourly.”
The next morning brought worse news.
Reid had transferred nearly sixty million dollars through a network of contractors before disappearing.
Some funds came from the unauthorized loans.
Some from redevelopment reserves.
Federal investigators believed he had been preparing the scheme for years.
The evidence from Evelyn’s late partner became critical.
Richard had not simply worked with Reid.
He had introduced Reid to Crestline executives more than a decade earlier.
Crestline denied knowledge of fraud.
Grant did not believe them.
Neither did federal investigators.
By noon, reporters had gathered outside Bennett & Bloom.
Mara returned to Providence under private security she did not request and definitely did not enjoy.
“His name is Daniel,” Grant told her before she left Holloway Point.
“I don’t need security.”
“Someone wrote ‘leverage’ beside your name.”
“I have Carol.”
“Is Carol armed?”
“Emotionally.”
Grant did not laugh.
Mara finally agreed to one security officer.
Not six.
One.
When she arrived at the studio, Carol was waiting.
Seventy years old.
Five feet two.
Hair dyed a shade of red that did not occur in nature.
She hugged Mara once and then slapped a newspaper onto the counter.
“Your billionaire is ruining business.”
“He is not my billionaire.”
“Shame.”
“Carol.”
“Three brides canceled consultations.”
Mara’s chest tightened.
“I saw the emails.”
“One said she doesn’t want ‘corporate drama’ around her wedding.”
“Fantastic.”
Carol leaned closer.
“Did he kiss you?”
“Why does everyone know everything?”
“Because you’ve looked irritated in a romantic way since you came in.”
“That is not a thing.”
“It is at your age.”
Mara spent the afternoon calling clients.
Some stayed.
Some left.
One woman demanded her deposit back even though the contract did not require it.
Mara returned it anyway.
By five, Bennett & Bloom had lost almost forty thousand dollars in future work.
At six, Grant appeared.
Carol looked at him.
Then at Mara.
“I’m going home.”
“You normally stay until eight.”
“I suddenly believe in boundaries.”
She disappeared.
Grant placed a paper bag on the counter.
“Dinner.”
Mara stared.
“What?”
“You haven’t eaten.”
“How do you know?”
“Lily told me you forget food during wedding weeks.”
“Lily needs a hobby.”
“She’s currently on a plane.”
Mara looked at the bag.
“Is it expensive?”
“Turkey sandwich.”
“That sounds manageable.”
They ate sitting on overturned flower buckets.
For twenty minutes, Grant did not mention Reid.
Or Harbor Row.
Or the article.
They talked about stupid things.
Grant hated olives.
Mara loved them.
Mara had once accidentally designed flowers for the same bride twice because the woman had remarried and changed her last name.
Grant had failed his first driving test because he argued with the examiner about a parking rule.
“You argued during a driving test?”
“I was correct.”
“You failed.”
“I was still correct.”
Mara laughed until her stomach hurt.
Then the front windows shattered.
The sound was enormous.
Grant moved before she understood what happened.
He pulled Mara down behind the worktable.
Glass scattered across the floor.
The security officer ran in from the back.
“No one move!”
For several seconds, Mara could hear only her breathing.
Then she looked up.
A brick lay among broken glass.
Something was wrapped around it.
Paper.
The officer checked the street.
Whoever threw it was gone.
Grant picked up the note with gloved hands after police arrived.
Two words.
WALK AWAY.
Mara stared.
“From what?”
Grant looked furious.
“Me.”
“No.”
“The project. The investigation. Whatever Reid believes you know.”
“I know nothing.”
“He may not care.”
Mara looked at the broken window.
Fear rose.
Then anger burned through it.
“No.”
Grant frowned.
“What?”
“I’m not closing my business.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you to.”
“I’m not leaving town.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you to.”
“And I’m not pretending I don’t know you.”
Something changed in his face.
Mara swallowed.
“But.”
Of course there was a but.
Grant waited.
“I can’t be the reason people think you’re changing corporate decisions.”
“You’re not.”
“Public perception doesn’t care.”
“No.”
“So until this investigation is finished, I think we should keep distance.”
His expression closed slightly.
“Mara.”
“You stepped down to protect the integrity of the company. If we start dating now, every decision you made looks personal.”
“I don’t care what strangers think.”
“I care what my clients think.”
That stopped him.
She continued.
“And I care what people say about hundreds of Harbor Row businesses. If they turn this into Grant Holloway protecting his girlfriend, those business owners lose credibility too.”
Grant looked at the shattered glass.
“You’re right.”
Mara hated how much she wished he would argue.
Instead, he respected her.
“I’ll stay away.”
Her chest hurt.
“Thank you.”
He stood.
Then stopped.
“This is not me disappearing.”
She looked up.
“If you call, I answer.”
Mara’s eyes burned.
“Okay.”
He left.
Three days passed.
Then five.
Federal investigators searched Reid’s properties.
Crestline hired crisis attorneys.
Holloway Maritime’s independent committee announced a full audit.
Grant stayed away exactly as promised.
He texted once each morning.
ARE YOU SAFE?
Mara answered yes.
Nothing more.
On the sixth night, Mara was locking the flower studio when she smelled smoke.
Not flowers.
Not candles.
Electrical smoke.
She ran toward the refrigeration room.
Flames flickered behind the main cooler.
Mara grabbed the extinguisher.
The fire alarm screamed.
Carol called 911.
The security officer pulled them outside.
Firefighters extinguished the small blaze before it spread.
The damage was limited.
But the fire investigator found something behind the unit.
A device wired into the refrigeration circuit.
A timer.
Someone had deliberately overloaded it.
Mara stared at the blackened wall.
Grant arrived twenty minutes later.
He stopped outside the police line.
He did not cross.
He did not take over.
He simply looked at Mara.
“Do you want me here?”
That question nearly broke her.
She nodded.
Grant came to her.
Mara stepped into his arms.
For several seconds, she let herself need someone.
Then a fire investigator approached.
“We found a partial serial number on the timer.”
Grant looked at him.
“And?”
“It’s an industrial control unit.”
“Purchased where?”
“We traced the batch.”
He handed Grant a preliminary report.
“The purchaser was a subcontractor.”
Grant read the company name.
His face hardened.
Mercer Industrial Services.
Reid’s brother’s company.
Mara looked up.
“So Reid did this?”
“Or someone working for him.”
Grant’s phone buzzed.
A federal agent.
Reid Mercer had finally been arrested.
At Logan Airport.
Trying to board a private flight using someone else’s passport.
Mara exhaled.
“It’s over.”
Grant did not look relieved.
“No.”
“Why?”
He showed her the message.
Reid had been arrested carrying one final document.
A signed agreement giving Crestline the right to acquire controlling interest in Holloway Maritime if Grant failed to return as CEO within thirty days.
Mara stared.
“Can they do that?”
Grant’s face went cold.
“If the agreement is valid.”
“And is it?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at the burned wall behind her.
Reid might be in custody.
But the trap he built was still closing.
And Grant had twenty-four days to decide whether to fight for the empire he had spent half his life building—
May you like
or finally let it go.
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