Sex and the Billionaire Crime Boss - Season 2

Ch. 32: Evening at the Art Gallery

I head downstairs and stop in the living room where my grandparents are watching an old sit-com on TV together. I'm surprised she's not already in bed. The three of us went out to lunch today, and then spent an hour walking through the botanical garden.

It turned out the injuries to my grandmother's feet from traipsing around barefoot were really not much more than superficial scratches, and she seemed fine, and anxious to get out and do something in the sunshine. I told Andrew we'd be okay just the two of us and he should get some rest or catch up on work, but he refused, insisting that he had to be there on the lookout for anyone Patricia used to know so he could head them off before they approached her and upset her.

"People don't realize," he told me. "It's not like I sent out an announcement that my wife has dementia and may not recognize people she's known for years."

We carried out this conversation in an undertone, while my grandmother tried on several of the wide-brimmed hats I'd found on the top shelf of her closet.

As it turned out, no one approached us, and we had a lovely day. It was the perfect follow-up to my night out with Martina yesterday, which was also blissfully drama free.

Now I'm looking forward to a not-so-lovely evening. I'll be attending the art gallery event as sort of Max's date but not really. Wearing this exquisite dress with no expectation that Max will be peeling me out of it later, and every expectation that I'll be wishing things were different.

As I step into the living room, my grandmother puts a hand to her mouth and gasps in delight.

"Laura, dear, you look stunning. And so fancy!" She nudges my grandfather. "Look, Andy. Don't you just bet that Jones boy is taking her someplace special tonight."

My grandfather makes a noncommittal sound, and she turns back to me again.

"Oh, Laura. When did you get so grown up?" She smiles at me and her eyes brighten. "Maybe he's going to pop the question tonight."

I go over and give her a hug rather than answering her. My head is spinning and it's all I can do to keep the smile plastered on my face. Clearly that Jones boy is my dad.

I'd always assumed that the rift had something to do with my grandparents not approving of my father, and my mother marrying him against their wishes. But from what Patricia is saying now, it seems like they not only approved of him but actually liked him.

What the hell happened?

But I can't ask my grandfather now, not in front of my grandmother, and he probably wouldn't tell me anyway.

She turns back to her TV show, and he gets up and walks me to the door.

"I suppose you're going to see Max Bennett tonight," he says in a low voice, our conversation covered by the laugh track on the TV.

"It's business," I tell him. Is he really going to give me grief about Max - the person who found my grandmother and brought her home safe?

"I want to know what's going on between the two of you."

"And I want to know what happened between you and my parents," I shoot back.

"This isn't the time or the place," my grandfather says, then sets his lips in a stubborn line.

"When exactly will it be the right time and place? I'm tired of waiting."

"What is your obsession about the past?" His voice is clipped. "Why can't you just let it go?"

Funny how much he sounds like Max when he says that.

I stare right back at him. "I can't."

"Your driver's here," he tells me, as a black Mercedes pulls around the circular driveway, with Gabe at the wheel.