Much of her parents’ success could be linked back to the relationships they had fostered over the years. If St. Martin’s missing doll got linked back to her parents breaking a confidence, they would suffer a public embarrassment.
And they might never speak to Liv again.
Not that they did a lot of that now. No time in their busy schedules to spare an evening for their daughter or, even worse, their grandson. Hence, the reason Callie preferred Liv’s one-and-a-half-bathroom bungalow rather than her suite of rooms in Thornton Manor.
If the St. Martins had invited Regina and Stanley Thornton, there was a one hundred percent chance her best friend and highly successful lobbyist Kayla Krowne had received a coveted invitation as well.
Kayla, unlike Liv’s parents, enjoyed a bit of intrigue. She loved nothing more than tweaking the noses of those who were more concerned about their status in society than making sure their community was healthy and safe and thriving.
Could she successfully pry details about the object from both Kayla and her parents?
“Do you have something you’d like to share with us, Olivia?” Zeke asked, picking up on her preoccupation.
Olivia.
He was putting distance between them.
Something had unsettled him during their conversation on the Annex road. Something he was either still processing or something that had turned him off seduction.
Good.
She hadn’t emerged unscathed either. One-night stands should be one and done. No after-coitus mussy fuss, no disappointment over a refused dinner invitation. No contemplating a lover’s deepest secrets.
As much as she craved another physical release with Zeke, she couldn’t chance it.
She had loved being married. Loved the companionship. Loved movie night. Loved having another responsible adult she could lean on when parenting got hard.
Zeke was not that guy. She hadn’t missed his fleeting oh, shit look when he realized she had a son. He might be good with kids, but that didn’t mean he wanted to add any to his basket.
“Olivia?” he prodded.
“There’s a good chance someone I’m close to has been invited to St. Martin’s party.”
“Who?”
“Someone who routinely attends high-profile social events, not just in Asheville and Charlotte, but D.C., too.”
“Does this friend have a name?”
“Kayla Krowne.”
The room fell silent. So silent Liv wondered if she’d spoken the words loudly enough.
“Why didn’t I think of Kayla?” Phin murmured.
Liv frowned. “You know her?”
Phin nodded. “I interned at her firm. She’s Netflix’s Miss Sloane in the flesh.”
“Then you know it won’t be easy getting her to divulge anything about the object if she decides to abide by the St. Martins’ wishes.” Liv looked at Zeke. “If they invited her.”
“Leave Kayla to me,” Phin said.
Liv raised an eyebrow.
The younger Blackwell smiled. “Fabricating isn’t my only specialty.”
Her brow rose higher.