Page 16 of Everyone’s a Liar

Sometimes chocolate pastries weren’t enough.

But before she reached the bar, she abruptly veered toward the open French doors. It was still an hour until dinner. Plenty of time to do some snooping.

She crossed the wide veranda and headed down the stairs to the pathway that led toward the circle driveway. If Winston was staying at his family estate, then he would have parked in front of the house.

Shrouded in the shadows of the hedges, Livia had a perfect view of the elegant guests through the arched windows of the salon. Mingling in small clusters, they grabbed fluted glasses of champagne from the trays of passing servants before moving to the next group. Like restless butterflies searching for nectar.

Celeste, of course, was posed in the center of the white-and-gold room, holding court with Delilah standing beside her. They flashed smiles and laughed on cue, like trained actors on a stage. Livia paused to admire the performance, her brows arching as she realized that the doting Winston was MIA. Had he already bailed on his new fiancée? She scanned the windows, finally spotting the man standing in the corner of the room. Next to him was her uncle Adrian, his hands motioning in sharp gestures. He was excited. Or pissed off. Suddenly, the two men glanced toward the door that led to the private sitting room. The room she just left.

Were they talking about her? Was it possible that Adrian knew Winston had been in her house? Maybe he’d sent the younger man …

A chill blasted through her, despite the thick night air. She’d hoped that her visit to the Willows would erase Jacob Pearson from her mind. It would be the one benefit to her mandatory stay. Now she was more obsessed than ever with Jacob and the reason he’d charmed his way into her life. And what his connection was to Winston. And perhaps her uncle.

Turning, she scurried down the pathway, taking time to grab a file from her car that she’d parked on the manicured lawn. She never used the garage space her uncle offered to her. She wanted to know she could make a quick getaway.

Once she had a legitimate reason for wandering around the front of the house, Livia casually strolled along the line of expensive vehicles. A Rolls-Royce. A Jag. Two Porsches. And a shiny black SUV with a vanity plate spelling the words WINSTUD. Gross. It had to be Winston.

She continued past the vehicle, covertly glancing around. It was still light outside, but thankfully, there was no one hanging around. The gathering wasn’t large enough for her aunt to hire a valet. Assured she was alone, Livia circled back, peering through the windows of the SUV.

There wasn’t much to see. Unlike her, Winston kept his vehicle annoyingly tidy. No empty coffee cups or takeout bags. No newspapers or stacks of files or unpaid parking tickets. The only thing visible was a rain jacket neatly folded in the back seat. A mandatory item for anyone living in Louisiana.

Or traveling to Ireland.

Not sure what she hoped to find, Livia cautiously grabbed the back door of the SUV and pulled it open. Afraid she might trigger an alarm, she breathed a sigh of relief when there was nothing but silence. It seemed doubtful that any of the guests were in a position to see the driveway, but her luck had been too crappy to take chances.

Grabbing the jacket, Livia searched the pockets, her heart leaping as she felt a narrow piece of paper. She pulled it out, tilting it toward the light. A receipt from a gas station. Hardly the smoking gun she’d been searching for, still she skimmed over the neatly printed numbers, before reading the name of the gas station. It was one of a large chain spread throughout New Orleans. Nothing unusual there. Then she reached the very bottom of the receipt where the date printed.

Her breath tangled in her throat. Last Thursday. Someone wearing the jacket in Winston Durand’s SUV had gotten gas on Thursday. A date when he was supposedly in Ireland.

Carefully folding the jacket, Livia replaced it on the back seat and quietly closed the door. Then, licking her dry lips, she forced herself to stroll back toward the house.

The receipt wasn’t absolute proof that Winston was lying about where he’d been last week. The jacket could belong to someone else. Or he could have lent the SUV to a friend while he was out of the country. But it did mean that Livia couldn’t cross him off the list of suspects. He might very well have been the stranger meeting Jacob in her house.

Lost in her thoughts, Livia didn’t notice the approaching shadow. Not until she was alerted by the crunch of footsteps on gravel.

Genuine fear clenched her heart as she came to a sharp halt. Had someone seen her snooping in Winston’s vehicle? And if they had, what were they going to do about it?

“Who’s there?” she called out.

“It’s me, Livia.” A tall form stepped around the front of the SUV, revealing Adrian Benoit. “What are you doing out here?”

Livia released a shaky breath. Not that she was entirely reassured. She hadn’t forgotten her uncle’s animated conversation with Winston as she strolled past the windows.

Livia managed a smile and lifted the folder she’d grabbed from her car. “I forgot a file I wanted to look over tonight,” she murmured. “I’m going to run it up to my room before dinner.”

Adrian looked suspicious, as if not entirely convinced by her handy-dandy cover story.

“Aren’t you on vacation?”

“I own my own business. There’s no such thing as a vacation.”

His wariness visibly eased. “That’s true enough.”

“Speaking of businesses, how is yours doing?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

The words came too fast to be believable. “Lucky you. I currently have a dozen buildings I’m trying to sell. I don’t suppose you’re planning on purchasing new office spaces, are you?”