Olivia Twisted (Entangled Teen) by Vivi Barnes

Olivia Twisted (Entangled Teen) by Vivi Barnes

Author:Vivi Barnes
Language: ara
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2013-11-04T18:30:00+00:00


Chapter Fifteen

“He stood for a moment with the blood tingling through all his veins from terror, that he felt as if he were in a burning fire; then, confused and frightened, he took to his heels.”

—Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

Z

Sam must have said something. Not only is everyone in the house coming out of every room to look at the guy who’s always pulled together—now a windblown, chilled mess—but their emotions are written all over their faces: disapproval and misplaced concern from Nancy and Sam, surprise from Micah and Cameron, though they bump my fist as usual. Bitterness from Jen, though that’s nothing new.

What bothers me is how Sam felt she could so blatantly discuss my business with everyone at Monroe Street, not to mention put me on the spot with Liv. She looks as if she wants to talk to me, but I head straight to the office and slam the door behind me. I refuse to let the high I’m on from my afternoon with Liv be punctured by Sam’s ranting about how I’m neglecting my job, how I’m screwing things up for her, too. How I’m going to break Liv’s heart.

My lips tug up at the memory of kissing Liv, holding her as we watched the rain—and God help me, the way she looked wearing my jacket. Sam has no clue; breaking this girl’s heart is not in my plans.

Needing a distraction, I sink into the chair and pick up the file I’m supposed to be working on for Bill. He’s going to start asking about it soon, and I’ve only looked into the business and charitable dealings for background. I start with some of the leads I pulled for personal information that could help me break his password.

Most of the results again focus on the various deals of Carlton Brownlow and his company. Pictures of him as an old man are scattered through various articles. His face looks so familiar. I glance at the black-and-white image stapled to the paper in front of me. Maybe I’ve seen him on TV or in the Wall Street Journal. I know it was recent.

I get his place and date of birth, early family life, parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles—recording everything I can find that could be used for a password. It can’t be easy if Bill’s team already tried. Looks like he was married with one child—a daughter named Agnes—and both wife and daughter are listed as deceased.

In an old newspaper clipping, I find a picture of him and his wife in a society paper. They look young and happy, maybe in their forties. The background includes a welcome sign for Niagara Falls, and the caption reads, “Mr. and Mrs. Carlton Brownlow revisit Niagara Falls for park rededication.” Brownlow is obviously quite a public figure, which helps.

I open an article about some arts foundation and scan through it. A close-up of an older Brownlow and his wife and daughter appears at the side of the article. The daughter looks to be in her mid-teens, with dark hair and large brown eyes that seem familiar somehow.



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