one is accusing your father of anything."
"You are. You've been accusing him of all kinds of things. And me, too."
"I'm simply opening my mind to the possibilities. The truth will come out in the end."
"And then you'll owe me an and my family an apology."
"We'll see." He tipped his head toward the back stairs. "Second floor, 2C."
She paused. "Let me do the talking."
"I don't think so."
"It's my father who's lying in a hospital bed in critical condition. I have the most at stake here. Don't forget that."
She had a point. He waved her forward. "After you."
* * *
Paige took a deep breath. Now that she had the control, she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Despite her best efforts to take charge, she was trembling. She kept thinking about the fact that her father might have taken this same route the day before, climbed these stairs, raised his hand to knock on this door. But why?
"Aren't you going to knock?" Riley asked when her hesitation lengthened.
"Just give me a second."
"To do what? It's a door. Knock."
She flung him an irritated glare, then rapped her knuckles against the wood. For a split second she thought no one might be home. Then she heard footsteps, a rustling, the jangle of a chain. The door opened slightly, the chain still in place. An Asian woman peered out suspiciously, her eyes as black as her hair.
"Yes?"
"Are you Jasmine Chen?" Paige asked.
"I don't have any money to give."
"Wait," Paige said, but the door shut in her face. She looked at Riley.
He simply reached over and rapped again. "Ms. Chen," he said loudly. "We need to speak to you, please. We're not leaving until we do."
The door cracked open again. "What do you want?"
"Tell her, Paige. Tell her who you are," Riley instructed.
She hesitated, knowing this might be her last chance to forget the whole thing.
"Paige?" the woman questioned, her gaze narrowing. "Paige Hathaway?"
Her stomach turned over. This woman knew her. Okay, don't panic, she told herself. Jasmine did business with the House of Hathaway. She'd probably seen her in the store. There was nothing mysterious about that. "Yes. I'm Paige Hathaway. I think you might know my father, David." She drew in a deep breath. "He was hurt last night. He was mugged in an alley not far from here."
The woman put a hand to her heart, her eyes widening in shock. "No, not David."
"We need to talk to you."
Jasmine unhooked the chain and opened the door to allow them to enter. The living room was small and sparsely furnished, with a simple black couch and matching chair, a coffee table with candles on it, a sewing machine on an old desk, piles of fabrics stacked on the floor, and a few photographs of a young woman on a side table. But while the room was simple, the walls were cluttered. Paintings filled every available space, conveying a frenzy of emotions that were not reflected in Jasmine's now unreadable expression as she stood in the center of the room waiting for them to speak.
Now that they were here—now that the questions could be asked—Paige couldn't bring herself to speak. How could she ask a woman, a stranger, if she was sleeping with her father? She'd told Riley she wanted to take charge of this meeting, but now she looked to him for help.
"Did David Hathaway come to see you yesterday?" Riley asked Jasmine.
Paige let out a small breath of relief at the fairly innocuous question. It was certainly an improvement on the question she'd been considering.
"Yes," Jasmine said.
"Why?" Riley asked.
"He came to speak about a painting."
Maybe that was all it was, a simple business meeting, Paige thought desperately. Then she saw Jasmine's gaze stray toward the wall, toward one of the paintings, and she saw something she didn't want to see, something that appeared very familiar.
"Oh, my God," she whispered, as she walked over to the wall to take a closer look. "Riley, look. It's your dragon."
Chapter Seven
Riley met Paige's gaze in shocked awareness. He turned to
"You are. You've been accusing him of all kinds of things. And me, too."
"I'm simply opening my mind to the possibilities. The truth will come out in the end."
"And then you'll owe me an and my family an apology."
"We'll see." He tipped his head toward the back stairs. "Second floor, 2C."
She paused. "Let me do the talking."
"I don't think so."
"It's my father who's lying in a hospital bed in critical condition. I have the most at stake here. Don't forget that."
She had a point. He waved her forward. "After you."
* * *
Paige took a deep breath. Now that she had the control, she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Despite her best efforts to take charge, she was trembling. She kept thinking about the fact that her father might have taken this same route the day before, climbed these stairs, raised his hand to knock on this door. But why?
"Aren't you going to knock?" Riley asked when her hesitation lengthened.
"Just give me a second."
"To do what? It's a door. Knock."
She flung him an irritated glare, then rapped her knuckles against the wood. For a split second she thought no one might be home. Then she heard footsteps, a rustling, the jangle of a chain. The door opened slightly, the chain still in place. An Asian woman peered out suspiciously, her eyes as black as her hair.
"Yes?"
"Are you Jasmine Chen?" Paige asked.
"I don't have any money to give."
"Wait," Paige said, but the door shut in her face. She looked at Riley.
He simply reached over and rapped again. "Ms. Chen," he said loudly. "We need to speak to you, please. We're not leaving until we do."
The door cracked open again. "What do you want?"
"Tell her, Paige. Tell her who you are," Riley instructed.
She hesitated, knowing this might be her last chance to forget the whole thing.
"Paige?" the woman questioned, her gaze narrowing. "Paige Hathaway?"
Her stomach turned over. This woman knew her. Okay, don't panic, she told herself. Jasmine did business with the House of Hathaway. She'd probably seen her in the store. There was nothing mysterious about that. "Yes. I'm Paige Hathaway. I think you might know my father, David." She drew in a deep breath. "He was hurt last night. He was mugged in an alley not far from here."
The woman put a hand to her heart, her eyes widening in shock. "No, not David."
"We need to talk to you."
Jasmine unhooked the chain and opened the door to allow them to enter. The living room was small and sparsely furnished, with a simple black couch and matching chair, a coffee table with candles on it, a sewing machine on an old desk, piles of fabrics stacked on the floor, and a few photographs of a young woman on a side table. But while the room was simple, the walls were cluttered. Paintings filled every available space, conveying a frenzy of emotions that were not reflected in Jasmine's now unreadable expression as she stood in the center of the room waiting for them to speak.
Now that they were here—now that the questions could be asked—Paige couldn't bring herself to speak. How could she ask a woman, a stranger, if she was sleeping with her father? She'd told Riley she wanted to take charge of this meeting, but now she looked to him for help.
"Did David Hathaway come to see you yesterday?" Riley asked Jasmine.
Paige let out a small breath of relief at the fairly innocuous question. It was certainly an improvement on the question she'd been considering.
"Yes," Jasmine said.
"Why?" Riley asked.
"He came to speak about a painting."
Maybe that was all it was, a simple business meeting, Paige thought desperately. Then she saw Jasmine's gaze stray toward the wall, toward one of the paintings, and she saw something she didn't want to see, something that appeared very familiar.
"Oh, my God," she whispered, as she walked over to the wall to take a closer look. "Riley, look. It's your dragon."
Chapter Seven
Riley met Paige's gaze in shocked awareness. He turned to