Page 61

To my surprise, her face softened. “You really don’t think James is trying to fix this?”
The certainty in her voice caught me off guard.
“I…how?”
She sighed and looked up.
“Be patient,” she muttered before looking at me and crooking her finger. “I want to show you something.”
I walked with her through the doors of the old hotel.
Outside, the Texan heat knocked my breath from me. Squinting into the bright light, I removed my hard hat.
Gianni waved at somebody.
I tried to find out who it was, but nobody paid us any attention.
The door of a parked car opened, and a lean man got out, his face bemused.
“Come here,” she yelled.
As he stopped in front of us, my mind searched for clues.
“Lenny, tell Ms. Siegler why you’re here.”
He cocked a brow. “He won’t like it.”
“I sign your paycheck,” she pointed out.
With a sigh, he shrugged and looked at me. “James Ryson hired us to keep you safe while we try to figure out who wrote the blog post.”
“James’ legal last name is Ryson,” Gianni said, giving me a beatific smile. “He uses Maximus in business.”
I ignored Gianni. “What do you mean, James hired you? To do what?”
“Security,” he replied. “You’re not in immediate danger...for now, but he didn’t want to take a chance. It is just a temporary measure until we find out who is behind all of this. You can trust us; we will find out. I’ve never seen him so pissed.”
“Thank you, Lenny.” Gianni patted his arm and gestured to the car. As he turned and walked off, she shifted her focus to me. “Now…tell me again how James is not trying to fix this?”
Twenty-Four
Maximus
The messagefrom Gianni held my interest for less than five seconds. No one at her private investigation firm could figure out who wrote that fucking blog post, took those pictures, or leaked the information that made a small Houston society webzine go viral.
The webzine article was down, thanks to the power of high-dollar lawyers. But the blog post and screenshots all over social media? It was all still out there.
No shit I could do about it. For now.
If only everything had been as easy as the webzine. As soon as “defamation” and “lawsuit” were mentioned, the owner cringed in fear.
Nothing talked like the threat of taking somebody’s money.
I deleted the text from my half-sister and tossed the phone to the padded seat next to me. I could not stand the quiet inside my home, and I moved out onto my patio. Even here, I felt trapped and restless.
Useless.
Never have I felt so powerless to solve my problems before. I fucking hated it. Neither my money nor my influence could solve the main issue that gnawed at me.