“Lily Grove,” I repeated with satisfaction. “That’s what your grandfather has called his house in Cairntilloch.”

Flynn’s brows twisted. He fell silent for a moment. “That could just be a coincidence.”

“Oh, of course it is.”

Flynn glowered at my sarcasm. “And Merry Wood? Did he say anything about that?”

This time I wasn’t able to channel the same air of confidence. “No. That was when he ordered me to leave. But his housekeeper knew about Lily.”

Flynn hauled a frustrated hand down his face. The spotlights in the office ceiling sifted subtle flecks of burgundy in his hair. “I’m not begging my grandfather to talk to me. It turns out he’s deceived me and my parents for years.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t give two hoots about family. Money, attention, recognition.” He lowered his voice. “That’s all he’s ever been interested in. He’s been so busy playing the part of the people’s street artist that he’s forgotten where his loyalties should have lain in the first place.”

I eyed Flynn, seeing for the first time the clear, sharp pain he was harbouring over the bitterness that existed in his family, not to mention the exhaustion and effort of keeping the secret that his own grandfather was Chandler. Why was he so closed off?

I toyed with the lid of my coffee. “You said your grandmother lives in Spain now.”

Flynn made an agonised groan. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re planning to interrogate her as well?”

Annoyance stirred up inside of me. “I’m not interrogating anyone. I never have done. If someone doesn’t want to speak to me, then that’s their prerogative.”

I shook my curls in disbelief.

“We aren’t all monsters, you now. It’s like in every walk of life. There are always bad reporters and yet we all get branded the same.” I let my hands rise and fall. I found myself using his first name. “Flynn, this is to do with your family. Surely, you’re curious?”

He flashed me a hot look out of his striking silvery eyes that made my stomach give a sudden deep flip.

I straightened my shoulders and chose to ignore it. Nope. No way. I wasn’t going there. Yes, he was very good-looking, but he had more sides than a Rubik’s Cube.

“I want to help Lily,” I explained, clearing my throat.

Flynn didn’t disagree. He rubbed at his chin. “My grandmother is coming over to Scotland at the weekend on one of her flying visits to see her accountant and meet up with a couple of friends.” He paused. “She’s booked into a hotel in town.”

My optimism burned a little. “Do you have a contact telephone number for her?”

Flynn rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”