"And I know yours. If you don't fire David and get him away from this club, you're going to be sorry, because there's a good chance I'm not the only rich member with secrets who he's trying to work for cash. You never should have hired him."
"He's my son."
"He's a problem that grows worse every day."
"Good night, Ryland." Sylvia's heels clattered down the stone pavement. Ryland stayed on the deck for another minute, and then walked away.
Maya let out the breath she'd been holding. Turning to Jax, she whispered, "Can you believe that? Ryland is sleeping with Alexander's wife."
"I heard," Jax said shortly, his lips drawn into a frown.
"And he's being blackmailed by Sylvia's son. That's crazy."
"I don't need a recap. What I need is to get back to work."
Her brows drew together in a frown. "Why are you so snappy?"
"Sorry, I just—we shouldn’t have kissed," he said, a hard note in his voice.
"But we did, and it was great."
"It can't happen again. I work here, Maya. I can't be messing around with guests. I need this job."
"Is that why you pulled me into these bushes?"
"Yes."
His reasoning made logical sense, but there was something that felt untrue about it, like he had another reason.
"You need to go, Maya. I'll give you a minute, and then I'll make my way inside."
"But…" She licked her lips, not sure what she wanted to say, except that she didn't really want to leave it like this. "We should talk about what we heard."
"I don't think Ryland being blackmailed has anything to do with your grandmother."
"Okay, but there are still other things to discuss. I've barely told you about my conversation with Constantine."
"I'll come by your house after my shift," he said. "We can talk then."
She couldn't quite read his mood, but she simply nodded and said, "I guess I'll see you later."
"You will."
She slipped out of the bushes and walked up the path to the club. As she entered the building, she ran into Sylvia. The woman seemed to be everywhere.
"I thought you went home," Sylvia said sharply.
"I was just looking around the grounds."
"Where did you go?"
Before she could answer, an older, red-haired woman joined them. Maya caught her breath. This was Constantine's wife, Louisa. Constantine had called her a beautiful red flame. Louisa was in her late fifties or early sixties, but her face was unlined, her makeup impeccable. However, her face paled as their eyes connected.
"My God," she said, putting a hand to her mouth. "Constantine was right. You look just like Natasha."
"Are you Louisa?"
"Yes, and you're Maya Ashton, Natasha's granddaughter." Louisa shook her head in bemusement. "You're stirring up embers, just like she used to do. She could never be content with letting things be. She had to mix everything up, cause chaos. It didn't matter how many people got hurt, as long as she got what she wanted."
Clearly, Louisa was not a fan of her grandmother's. "Did you know her well then?"
"I know what she left behind, the people she broke along the way, including your father. Is he in favor of this movie you're making?"
She didn't think her dad's opinion was any of Louisa's business. "He understands that her story needs to be told and the way she died needs to be explained."
Louisa shook her head. "You won't be able to explain it. Others have tried before you, and no one was successful."
"No one was her blood; I am."
"You shouldn't be proud of that. She wasn't a nice person."
"That's your opinion," she said hotly. She was getting tired of people dissing her grandmother.
"A lot of people shared my opinion," Louisa said.
"Not Constantine. He loved her."
"You really have no idea what kind of relationship they had. Constantine was fond of her, yes, but he always knew that she was nothing more than an illusion, a puff of smoke that warms you for a moment and then leaves you cold for years afterward. I believe she killed herself because he didn't want her. He wanted me. Did he tell you that?"
"Did he tell you that?" she countered.
"Yes. He did. We've been married thirty-three years now. He might have loved her for a minute, but he has loved me for a lifetime. You need to understand that Natasha was only loved by people who didn't know her. She had her fans, but they adored the film star, not the woman she was. Revealing her truth will only hurt your family, and they've been hurt enough. I can still remember your poor father's