Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(84)

Smack. Her grandfather’s coffee cup hit the table. “Who told you that?”

Uh-oh. “I think he was just theorizing the reasons behind the attacks, not saying it was a good idea.”

“His name. Now,” her grandfather roared.

“Onyx.” While she didn’t trust the guy, she didn’t think he was behind this.

“That man has been a thorn in the Directorate’s side for years, but I don’t believe he’d attack in the open this way. He prefers to chip away at the foundation to try to undermine us from within.”

Wait a minute. “Is Onyx a member of the Directorate?”

“Unfortunately, yes. A few decades ago we decided to expand the Directorate beyond our own Clan.”

“But you don’t invite them to your Christmas party?” Bryn asked.

“No. The party is a celebration within our Clan, not a Directorate gathering.”

“Does that mean the attack was aimed at the Blue Clan rather than the Directorate?” Bryn retrieved the plate of cookies she had pushed away moments before.

“That is an interesting question,” her grandmother said.

“It makes no difference who the attack was aimed at.” Her grandfather pounded his fist on the table. “It was aimed at my home, where ninety percent of the Directorate members were known to be.”

That brought up another question. “Did they specifically attack the ballroom because they knew we’d all be there at that time?”

“I believe that was their intention. The rest of the estate suffered only minor damage.”





Chapter Thirty-Three


Abigail entered the dining room and stood a few feet inside the doorway. Bryn’s grandmother acknowledged her with a questioning look.

“There’s a call for Bryn from Valmont Fonzoli.”

“Really?” That was the best news she’d had in a while. A quick check of the dining room didn’t produce a phone. “Where should I take the call?”

“There’s a phone in the sitting room down the hall,” her grandmother said. “Abigail will show you.”

Hopping out of her chair, Bryn followed Abigail to a room on the right. At this point, she was as happy to escape the dining room as she was to speak with Valmont. Sitting on a wingback chair, she grabbed the phone. “Hello, Valmont?”

“Merry Christmas, Bryn.” Warmth came through his words.

“Merry Christmas to you, too. What’s up?”

“If you aren’t busy with your grandparents today, can you come over for lunch?”

Muscles she didn’t realize were tense, relaxed. “That sounds fantastic. Hold on while I ask my grandmother.”

Laying the phone on its side, she dashed back to the dining room. They had to say yes. She needed to be out of this house for a while, someplace where she could relax.

She skidded through the doorway and met her grandparents’ speculative gazes. “Valmont’s family invited me for lunch. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” her grandmother said at the same time her grandfather said, “No.”

“We were attacked yesterday,” her grandfather said.

“Yes. We were,” her grandmother said. “And now it’s our job to make it seem as though we are unaffected. You will declare your act of war, but we should continue on with our everyday lives. Don’t you agree?”

Her grandfather stared up at the ceiling like he was mulling over her grandmother’s logic. “It’s an interesting tactic.”

“And we don’t have anything planned until six.” Her grandmother turned to Bryn. “You may go, just be back in time for Christmas dinner.”

“Thank you.” Wow. She’d never seen her grandmother argue with her grandfather before—and win. Interesting development. She ran back to the phone and told Valmont the good news.

“I’ll be there to pick you up in ten minutes,” Valmont said.

“I thought it took thirty minutes for you to get here.”

“I figured you’d say yes, so I left the house about twenty minutes ago.”

She laughed. “Be nice to the guards when you check in. There was some trouble here last night and they’ll all be on high alert.”

“What trouble?”

Was she allowed to say anything? Who knew? “I’ll explain when you get here.”

She said her good-byes and ran up to her room to freshen up and change into jeans, a sweater, and tennis shoes. Valmont wouldn’t care what she wore, so she could be herself, which was nice.

Should she change her hair back? Her current look seemed to make her grandmother happy, so she’d leave it for now. Maybe she’d ask Valmont’s opinion.

By the time she made it to the foyer, Valmont was waiting by the door next to one of the guards. She was relieved to see that the guard didn’t look annoyed.

Valmont’s ice-blue eyes were full of mischief. He smiled, which made his single dimple show. In an evergreen-colored button-down shirt and jeans, he looked awesome. Her heartbeat sped up as she grinned back at him.

“I like the new hair.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Thank you.”

Once they were out the door and in his car, the world seemed like a brighter place. Being around Valmont made her feel almost normal again. Driving along the forested road with the top down on his cherry-red convertible and the heat blasting to keep them warm, she listened to the sound of the winter wind rustling in the leaves.