SHANE
“Table for one?” a hostess asks at the same moment my gaze lands on a rounded booth in the back where my brother now sits with Adrian.
I step around the woman I’ve barely glanced at and make a beeline for my targets, neither looking up until I’m already sitting down with them. “I think it’s time we talk,” I say, noting that even in a UFC T-shirt, Adrian has this edge of arrogant money about him that reminds me of my father, who I’d once aspired to be, and perhaps resemble far more than I’d like.
“Holy fuck, Shane,” Derek growls. “What are you thinking?”
Adrian arches a brow. “I’d be curious to know the same, since I don’t typically take uninvited guests.”
“I assume my brother told you the FBI is at the BP facility.”
“He did,” Adrian confirms, “and since you’re understandably concerned, I’ll excuse your intrusion. This is uneventful. I told you. Your facilities are clear.”
“We are on their radar,” I say. “An insider told me the FBI is looking at sports players as users of a drug they’re calling Sub-Zero.”
“Because I call it Sub-Zero,” he says. “And they’ve been looking into it for a while. It doesn’t show up in tests.”
“We have a stockholder that’s in sports,” I say. “We hold a drug company in our portfolio. Don’t you think that makes us dangerously visible?”
“There’s a reason we left Mike Rogers out of this,” Adrian says, and I see the irritation flash in Derek’s face, as if his hand has been shown before the vote. And it has been. I was right about Mike. He’s too cautious, with too much to lose, to land in dangerous waters by choice. Adrian sips his whiskey. “He’s the perfect cover, don’t you think?”
“That’s nothing shy of insanity,” I say, treading cautiously so as to not get Mike killed. “He’s a magnet for attention just like BP is as a pharmaceutical company. Made worse by Derek’s careless actions.”
“Spoken by the brother afraid to ever take a damn risk,” Derek bites out.
I reach into my pocket and grab a sheet of paper, which I unfold and set in front of Adrian. “That’s my brother paying off a federal official to get drug approval. The FBI found out.”
Adrian inhales a slow, calculated breath and looks at Derek. “Is this true?”
“It was necessary,” my brother says, and what comes next is so fast, so unexpected, I don’t have time to prepare myself.
Adrian picks up a steak knife, and stabs it through my brother’s hand, all the way to the table.
Holy fuck.
Derek cries out in horrific pain and the brother in me wants to rescue him, but Adrian isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at me. “What the hell?” Derek demands. “Get it out! Shane, get it out!”
I don’t move, my gaze locked with Adrian’s cold, brutal stare, as he says, “Shut up,” to Derek, “or you will not like the results.”
I discreetly slide my knee to Derek’s, giving him a silent warning, and he sucks in a trembling breath, saying nothing else.
“Where were we?” Adrian asks, his hand leaving the knife, which he doesn’t even attempt to remove from my brother’s hand. “Oh yes, where Mike Rogers fits in. If our answer is that he doesn’t, let’s buy him out. Whatever the price, I’ll pay it.”
And there it is. Adrian is now exactly where he wants to be, setting himself up to own a piece of Brandon Enterprises. “I’m not selling you any part of my company.”
“Then I’ll go to him directly.”
“My father was never an overly honest man,” I say. “He got away with a lot of things, and recently I saw him in action, and was reminded that he is a king for a reason. Much like your father. Let’s not be the two dead brothers.”
He narrows his gaze on me. “You know about my brother.”
“And you now know about mine. This is going nowhere good. This will destroy us both.”
“We’ll take a three-month breather,” Adrian says. “We’ll let things cool off.”
“Three months is nothing to the FBI and don’t you think they will look at what prescriptions Brody was taking? That’s going to tie back to us.”
“He had a legitimate prescription.”
“So will others who end up dead.”
“No one has died,” he insists.
“Brody.”
“That was a car accident.”
“You and I both know that’s not true and this is death number two the FBI is looking into. Real drugs covering for illegal drugs have a trail you can’t avoid. In premise, this was a good idea, until you find out where it leads, and that’s to you, then your father.”
He considers me for several long seconds, his expression unreadable, while Derek’s heavy breathing fills the air. “You’ve become far more profitable to me than you know.”
I feel those words like a punch in the chest. “And far more of a liability than you know.”
“We’ll rotate drugs.”
“They still lead back to you and me.”
“We’ll find a way around it.”
“We won’t.”
“I’m not walking away from the money. You’re smart. You’ll find a way to protect us, like your father always protected your business before you.”
I lean forward. “Like our fathers protected our businesses,” I say, making sure he gets the point. “And they survived, and continue to do so, by knowing when to stay out of something, or when to get out, when they were already in.”
“Find a way to redirect my sales, and I’ll get out, but not until then.”
My lips thin. This is not the solution I wanted, but it’s at least an option. “I need to know what you’re doing, and how you’re doing it, in order to do that.”
“If you can’t figure it out, then neither can the FBI. Figure it out. Get me out with money in my pocket, and we’ll be passing friends. And control your bloodline or I will.” He rips the knife from Derek’s hand, sliding out of the booth, and leaves us with blood everywhere.
I grab a napkin and steady my brother’s arm, holding it when it trembles, wrapping his hand, before grabbing another napkin. He doesn’t stop me. He hardly moves and is clearly in shock, blood already seeping through the napkins. I grab my tie, loosen it and pull it free, to create a tourniquet around his arm.
“Don’t move,” I say, standing and walking to the hostess booth, where the woman behind the counter gladly supplies me with more napkins and the scissors she has at the stand. Derek still isn’t moving or speaking, and I cut cloth and wrap it around his palm, tying it off this time.
Derek’s gaze meets mine, his eyes pure bloodshot hate. He stands up and takes two steps before he sways. I am there before he falls, catching him. Still, he doesn’t speak, and I focus on getting him the hell out of here before Adrian makes a further example of him. I manage to get him out the door, and when he shoves away from me and starts walking, he falls again. His weakness and pain, no matter how we’ve grown apart, guts me, and I drop to a knee by his side. My hand goes to his back, and he arches forward, managing to push to a knee. “Get the fuck away from me, Shane. This isn’t over. In fact, it’s just begun. He doesn’t want out. He’s not getting out.”
“Derek! Oh God. Derek!”
I look up to find Teresa, Adrian’s pretty brunette sister, rushing forward, and she’s on her knees in a heartbeat. “Please tell me my brother didn’t do this to you.” Her hands are on his face, and it’s clear she cares about my brother and will take care of him.
“He needs to get to the hospital,” I say.
She looks at me. “Yes. Of course. Can you help me get him—”
“No,” Derek growls. “No help.”
I inhale and let it out, pushing to my feet, and walking to my car, my legs weak from the rush of adrenaline surging through me. Digging out my keys, I click the locks and slide into the driver’s seat, staring forward, the sweet scent of Emily fading into that of blood and betrayal. I don’t let myself think about it just yet, needing to get past a visit to the BP facility that will be expected to uphold this failure of a façade. I start the engine and drive to the facility. I barely make it in the front door before Lana has thrown herself into my arms, hugging me.
“Oh God. I can’t believe this is happening.”
Irritated that I’ll now have to explain to Emily why I smell like a woman she knows I once fucked, I grab her arms and pull her off me. “Why are you even here at this hour?”
“I’ve been auditing records later at night, checking up on that problem you and I discussed. The problem that brought the FBI here.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh my God. Why are you bleeding?”
I don’t blink. “It’s not me. My brother cut his hand and at this point, I have no idea why the FBI is here, but you keep your mouth shut.”
She gives me big puppy-dog eyes. “You know I would never betray you.”
In other words, she would. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she says, all innocent when she is not. “Tomorrow.”
Regretting any involvement she has, despite her figuring out Ridel is the hiding spot for Sub-Zero, I walk toward the security booth. Ted, a tall, dark-haired man in jeans and T-shirt, a gun at his hip, presents his badge and we head into a private office, where I update him on the failure of this operation. As my contact man he’s not any more pleased than I am, but full of assurances they’ll come up with another plan.
It’s an hour later when I finally pull into the Four Seasons hotel, having decided I’ve played too nice and too straight up. I can’t win that way, but I’ll find an answer that gets Adrian out of my company, and I have one thing my brother does not: My father is on my side now, and ironically, I guess I have my mother to thank for that. I might be farther from an answer to my Adrian Martina problem than I thought, but I’m closer to the head of the table.
But right now, my biggest challenge is facing Emily. The easiest thing to explain will be the blood and perfume on my shirt. The hardest will be that I’m now committed to working for a drug cartel, while my brother is committed to making sure the next knife is in my hand.
Lies destroy, but I fear the truth is worse. Maybe lies are better. Or maybe they aren’t.
EMILY
Somehow, I end up in black sweats and a tank top rather than pajamas, sitting in the middle of the floor of Shane’s office, leaning against the couch to the far left of the door, a laptop on the coffee table, and files all around it. I’m obsessing about a Brandon clothing and cosmetics line, loving the idea, and I try to focus on every way this is a good move, in order to present the plan to Shane. But my gaze keeps going to the time on the laptop, where I’m putting together spreadsheets on companies, historical profits, and success stories. It’s midnight, the moment the pumpkin is no longer a carriage and I feel a bit like Cinderella, dreading the loss of her prince, and I don’t like how it feels.
Twelve thirty comes and the door opens and closes, sending a rush of relief through me, but I force myself not to move. He’s home. He’s safe. We can talk, but rushing at him and demanding answers won’t help us as a couple at all. And I don’t want to be this nagging, demanding woman, who says Now, now, now. I want to be his partner in life, and that means he has to invite me into it. That means I might have to accept that he’s not ready to talk and that my need for immediacy is, at least in part, about me and my past, not him.
He appears in the doorway, oddly wearing a T-shirt with his dress pants. “Hey sweetheart,” he says, eyeing my work. “What are you working on so late?”
I move to sit on the edge of the couch. “I have this idea for Brandon Enterprises that I’m pretty excited about. I’m trying to make sure I give you reason to be as well.”
He leans on the door frame as if he isn’t overly anxious to come near me, and I’m not sure why or how to feel about that. “Cosmetics and clothing. Ties. Shoes. Purses. We could buy stock in a big company, but there are several growing brands with potential we could take over. It’s really not corruptible and we could have brands within the brand to hit price points, and ensure economic stability.”
“I like it,” he says quickly. “And I really like that you’re so excited about it.”
“I am,” I reply, and the silence that follows beats like my heart—unbearably heavy—and I blurt out. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“I was with Derek when he had a hand injury. He bled all over me.”
“Oh God. Is he okay?”
“He didn’t exactly invite me to the hospital with him.” He hesitates. “There’s another reason. There was an ordeal at the facility tonight. I went there, and Lana greeted me at the door by flinging her arms around me. There were witnesses. A camera, and I can—”
“I don’t need a camera or witnesses,” I say, no hesitation in my response. “I want to not feel what I feel right now. I want to stop thinking I’m my mother, with a rich man buying me things and keeping secrets.”
I’ve barely gotten the words out and Shane is in front of me, shoving back the coffee table and bringing me to my feet, his hands cupping my face. “Don’t do that to you, me, or us. Don’t make us them when we are not. I worked my ass off for my money that has no connection to my family and I invested it well. I won’t apologize for my money or finally having someone I want to spend it with or on.” He doesn’t give me time to digest that before he moves on. “As for secrets, I have none. I simply have things I wanted to fix before they scared you away.”
My heart squeezes with the emotion etched in his confessions and I flatten my hand on his chest, his heart thundering beneath my palm, telling a story of worry and trepidation. “This is me you’re talking to. You know my past. You can’t scare me away.”
He takes my hands in his. “We’re about to find out.”
More relief washes over me with those words and he sits, taking me to the couch with him, his hands settling on mine where they rest on my knees. “Let me cut to the chase. Tonight was all about a major effort that should have let me tell you what I’m about to tell you, and that I could have prefaced by saying that it’s over. It failed. It’s not over.”
“What isn’t over?”
“Derek got involved with a drug cartel who wanted to infiltrate a legal pharmaceutical company.”
“Oh God. That’s bad. Really bad.”
“Yes. It is. That Escalade belongs to Adrian Martina, the son of the kingpin, who is proving his value through us.”
“How are they using BP for illegal drugs?”
“There’s a new stimulant that isn’t detectable in testing, and they’re packaging it as one of our near defunct drugs. The story is long, but I hired men to stage an FBI raid that was intended to spook Adrian. It didn’t. He says if I want him out, I have to find a way to replace the profits for him.”
I study him for several beats. “And you agreed.”
“I didn’t agree, but it’s that or go to the FBI, which would ensure my brother goes to jail, and our company is tainted in a way we might not recover from. I bought a drug company, a corruptible entity, with my brother, who is corruptible. It was, perhaps, the biggest mistake of my life.”
“It’s not a mistake, Shane,” I insist. “This is not your fault. It’s your brother’s and he has to be stopped before he destroys us all. What happened to his hand?”
“Adrian put a knife in it.”
My eyes go wide. “Did it at least scare him?”
“No. It did not scare him.”
“Of course not,” I say. “It’s Derek. Can you sell BP?”
“Not without Adrian coming after me. Unless…”
His brow furrows and I press for more. “Unless?”
He refocuses on me. “You might have sparked an idea I need to work through, but not right now.” He softens his voice. “I can send you away until this is over. I can—”
I lean in and press my lips to his, my hand curling at his jaw. “Why would I leave you now, when you’re going through hell? Why would anyone who cares about someone else do that?”
He takes my hand in his again, and leans back to look at me. “It’s a drug cartel. They’re vicious. They’re dangerous.”
“And you have me guarded around the clock. I do think this makes the idea of this new clothing and makeup line all the more important. It’s—”
I blink and I’m on my back with him on top of me. “I want to hear about it, but not now. Right now is about us. I almost lied to you. I walked down the hallway to the apartment, thinking of things I could tell you that you’d believe.”
“Why didn’t you?
“Because your honesty about your feelings, about your mother and stepfather, unraveled what might have been my lies. We aren’t them. I won’t let us become them. And I have never needed anyone the way I do you right now.”
“I need you too,” I whisper, and a frenzy of undressing follows until we are naked on the couch, me straddling him, his hand in my hair, dragging my mouth a breath from his.
“I need to taste like you, and smell like you, and feel your skin everywhere against mine,” he declares, his voice roughened with passion.
Heat rushes through me, my sex clenching his cock, his name whispering from my lips. “Shane, I—”
He kisses me, a deep ravishing, hungry kiss that borders on desperation. I do not believe I fully understand it, but some part of me knows that it’s telling a story that is dark, hard, and passionate, in ways I need to reveal. And while yes, those things are about us, I believe they are more about him, and where he feels he is being pulled, and that I cannot, under any circumstances, let him go.
SHANE
Saturday proves to be typical of Colorado, with the snowstorm gone, temperatures in the sixties, and plenty of time for Emily and me to try to put the last seventy-two hours out of our minds. We walk the city, shop, talk, and buy furniture. In between it all, we stop for coffee, and I tell her all about Mike, my father, and the win of having him on my side, despite the way it’s come about. It’s news she celebrates with me, and hours later, we order takeout, settle onto the couch in my office, and get lost in developing a new fashion brand for Brandon Enterprises. When we’ve finished our takeout, I pull her beneath me on the couch.
“This is a brilliant idea.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes. I do. And I should have thought of it myself. I want you to run this division.”
“Shane—”
“I really want you to run it. You thought of it. I’ve listened to all of your ideas. This is your baby and you deserve the credit and the creative control.”
“Can we do it together?”
“We can do everything together as far as I’m concerned. You know everything now, Emily. I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I was just trying to protect you. I’ll get you the name of an analyst to contact about reviewing the companies you’d like to look into acquiring.”
I kiss her then, and it’s a long time before we start back to work. And for the rest of the day I make sure I tell her she’s beautiful. I tell her she’s mine. Before, after, and during moments I have her naked. What I don’t tell her is that I love her. It’s there. It’s between us and I know she feels the unspoken words as I do, but I need to deserve her when I say them. And right now, there is a war raging not just with my family, but within me, between good and evil. I have to end Adrian Martina’s control of my family, and I’ve learned a lesson. I can’t think like me, like the way I used to. I have to think like my father. I have to think like Martina himself. I have to do whatever it takes to win, and in the process, I have to keep from lying to Emily about what that means. Because lies do destroy.
Come Sunday morning, I wake with her pressed to my side, and I lie there, staring at the ceiling as the sun comes up, thinking of the loss of my law career, the loss of her schooling that somehow led us to each other. “Penny for your thoughts,” she says, proving she’s as awake as me.
Having no desire to start her day thinking about law school, I reply with my belly, not my brain. “I’m thinking I want pancakes, then you,” I say, rolling her to her back. “Actually, amend that to you, pancakes, and then you again.”
My cell phone rings and we ignore it, which is easily done considering we’re both already naked. A good hour later, we split my pajamas between us—her in my shirt, while I slip into my pants—and head to the kitchen, where we dive into the job of pancake making. Emily is managing the batter on the stove, and I’m making us both coffee when the doorbell rings.
Emily abandons the stove and faces me. “Seth?” she asks, hugging herself, already looking worried, and I hate that I can’t take away her fear that the Geminis will one day find her, no matter how hard I try. It will always be there in the back of her mind.
I step to her and cup her face. “Stop fretting. Seth wouldn’t show up on a Sunday unannounced. Housekeeping stops by on the weekends.” I kiss her and my nose twitches. “I smell burning pancakes.”
“Oh dang it.” She turns to the stove and murmurs something not very ladylike that still manages to be adorable coming from her, and I’m laughing as I reach the door, only to have the bell ring again.
“Shane!” she calls out. “You have no shirt on!”
“Because you’re wearing it!” I call back, opening the door, taken aback to find my father standing there in yesterday’s suit, his tie in his pocket. He eyes my chest, his lips quirking with surprisingly good humor, before he says, “I smell pancakes.” His nose twitches. “Burnt pancakes. That’s no way to keep a woman, son.”
Now, it’s my lips that quirk, and I can’t remember the last time I shared a moment of amusement with my father. “Would you like some burnt pancakes, Father?” I ask, unable to judge him anymore for his woman on the side, considering my mother has Mike on the side, and I have no idea who came first. “Obviously you’ve been in the building working up an appetite.”
“I ate,” he assures me. “Just reminding you about dinner tonight.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Bring Emily. That’s not a request. It’s mandatory.” He turns and starts walking away.
I inhale and shut the door, returning to find Emily throwing out the pancakes. “I’m starting a new batch,” she says, then asks, “Was that your father?”
I rest my hands on the island and she turns to look at me. “He wants you at dinner tonight.”
She studies me a moment and then leans on the counter. “Do you want me to go? Because Shane, there’s no pressure from me.”
“I always want you by my side, Emily. Tonight is no exception, but of course, my father is playing a game.”
“I can handle your father’s games. You know that and I want to be by your side, Shane, but my concern is Derek. You said we were keeping a low profile with Derek.”
“I also thought I was ending this Martina problem last night. That didn’t happen. You’re in my life. Derek is going to figure that out.”
“Actually, your mother referenced the way we look at each other and made it pretty clear she thought we were more than a fling.”
I round the counter and snag her hips, pulling her to me. “It’s time we make it clear we’re a couple.”
Her hand flattens on my chest. “What about Derek?”
“We’ve filled in the holes in your past, which was what I wanted handled before he had a reason to look any closer at you.”
“He is looking closer at me as of yesterday,” she says. “I saw that in his eyes. I’m a target.”
My mind goes to the recording I’d made outside Teresa’s house last night; I should have already played it back. If it’s as perfect as I think it is, I own my brother. “He can’t touch you,” I say, cupping her backside. “Just me, sweetheart, which is how I plan to keep it.”
“I like how you touch me,” she says, and despite her daring, her cheeks flush, a contradiction of qualities I find sexy as hell.
“Screw the pancakes,” I say, setting her on a barstool, and going down on one leg in front of her, my hands settling on her bare thighs. “It’s you I want.”
She smiles, and sighs follow, but pancakes do not. We order room service. I think Emily and I will be ordering a lot of room service, and that suits me just fine.
* * *
Despite the early six o’clock hour, it’s already dark outside when we arrive at my parents’ house. I park the Bentley at the rear of the house, next to Derek’s Porsche.
“I’m suddenly nervous,” Emily says, as I open her door and help her to her feet, the dim glow of outdoor lighting surrounding us, a light breeze lifting her long, dark hair.
“Don’t be,” I say, draping a black cashmere wrap over her navy blouse, which I’ve matched with my tie, skipping a jacket. “You know my family and you were right. You do handle their games well.”
“I hate that the word ‘family’ means games to you.”
I gather her hand in mine and kiss her fingers. “Family means you to me now, Emily.”
Her expression softens. “That is the best thing you’ve ever said to me. You’re that to me too. You really are and it’s kind of scary.”
“Then we’ll be scared together.”
“You? Scared? Never, Shane Brandon.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” I admit. “Alone is safe. There is no fear of losing anything. You can’t get hurt.”
“Then you’ve never truly felt alone, because alone is a cold, empty place.”
I cup her face. “You will never feel that again. And before you ask, I promise.” I lean in and kiss her, my tongue doing one slow, caress against hers, followed by her shiver. “Let’s get you inside.” I drape my arm over her shoulder, and we enter the open foyer with towering ceilings I always take for granted, but Emily is amazed, walking to the center of the tiled room, and staring up at the domed ceiling.
“I love this so much,” she declares as my mother enters from the kitchen, and laughs.
“I still do and say that sometimes,” she declares, looking lovely as ever in black pants and a matching blouse, and while I’d love to just be proud of my mother, I can’t. The son in me is thinking of her nabbing Mike, a younger, powerful man, and how that might be related to positioning herself for the future.
“Come to the library,” my mother says. “Our chef says he needs another thirty minutes to serve and your father has a predinner announcement that even I’ve been kept in the dark about. Frankly, I’m eager to find out what it is.”
Emily and I share a curious look, and I close the space between us, taking her wrap and hanging it by the door before lacing the fingers of one of her hands with mine. Together, we walk ahead of my mother and under the winding stairwell to the right, passing through the towering arched wooden door. Once over the threshold, we find my brother and father standing at the fireplace against the far wall, in deep conversation.
“It’s gorgeous,” Emily murmurs beside me, while my gaze lands on Derek’s hand, which is now well bandaged. I am struck by how alike my father and brother are tonight, both dressed in starched white shirts, both tall and striking in similar ways.
Shaking off the idea that I too am like them, I turn my gaze on Emily, to find her taking in the walls, lined with bookshelves, and topped with another domed ceiling that is painted to look like a globe, and the fireplace burning in the center of the far wall.
“My parents do have good taste,” I agree. “And I wonder how my brother explained that bandage on his hand.”
“I was wondering the same,” she replies softly.
“I have the champagne,” my mother announces, breezing past us, and toward my father and brother, while I guide Emily that direction and inside the square formed by the dark brown leather couch framed by chairs.
My father motions to Derek. “Give it to him.” He eyes Derek. “Open the bottle, son.”
Derek lifts his hand and my father grimaces. “Right. The attack of the steak knife your date somehow landed in your hand.” He looks at me. “Get it done, Shane.”
Derek’s expression darkens with the irony of the moment that says I always have to come to the rescue, and the look he gives me is pure hate. I open the champagne while my mother holds out glasses, which I fill as she passes them out. Finally, I set the bottle on the ledge above the bar and step to Emily’s side.
That’s when Derek’s eyes land on Emily. “Had I known we were bringing dates, I could have brought one myself.”
“If your date is Teresa Martina,” I say, “we’re all better off with you leaving her at home.”
“And yet Emily is welcomed?”
“Emily won’t get us all killed,” I say, while my father adds, “I invited Emily.”
“And I want her here,” I add, “because she’s now family. She lives with me.”
“Oh my,” my mother says. “That’s amazing.” She smiles at Emily. “I knew there was more to you two.”
“Interesting,” Derek says, his eyes glinting with a purpose I don’t like and will shut down.
“Let’s move on,” my father says. “Originally, this was going to be a dinner to announce the vote for head of the table. New events have occurred and I’m canceling the board meeting.”
It’s not a completely unexpected move, considering my father is now looking to control Mike before that vote, but it does seem to indicate his desire to do so is newfound.
“What new events?” Derek demands, his voice cutting with irritation.
He holds up his glass. “Seems I shouldn’t drink my way through chemo, and to my grave, after all. This drink is for show tonight, at least, for me. There’s a new experimental cancer treatment I’ve been approved to take part in. Of course, a generous donation to the right people helped.”
My mother’s eyes go wide, relief filling her face. “What treatment? How successful is it? When can you start?”
Her response pleases me, but I’ve researched these experimental treatments and fear she is simply headed for more pain.
“What matters here,” my father says, “is they’ve had patients enter remission that otherwise were thought to be imminently terminal. I won’t be giving up control of the company as quickly as I thought might be necessary.”
My mother hands me her glass and embraces my father. Emily moves forward and takes my father’s glass as well, and he wraps my mother in his arms. Derek’s gaze meets mine and he eyes the chess table sitting on the far left wall. “Let’s play, shall we?”
The last thing I want is to join Derek in a game of chess, but it’s better than standing here, looking at each other. I down my champagne and set both glasses on the coffee table. “Game on,” I say, giving him my back, my hands coming down on Emily’s shoulders, softening my voice. “You okay?”
“Of course. I’m not fragile.”
My lips quirk. “No. No, you are not.”
“But please kick his ass in chess.”
“I will,” I promise, releasing her to claim the leather chair across the table from my brother. “How long has this game been set up and going?”
“Seven years,” he supplies, “but I say we end it tonight.”
“Yes,” I agree. “Let’s end it tonight.”
We start playing, and the game is quickly intense. I lose track of time. My father pulls a chair up to sit between us. My mother tries to get us to break for dinner. But Derek and I stare at the board and soon I am backed into a corner. Derek’s gaze meets mine. “You could always sacrifice your queen and let her die a royal death. Would it—would she—be worth it to win?”
My blood runs cold, the threat against Emily clear. I am about to reach in my pocket and remove the tape I made of him at Teresa’s house the other night when my father leans in close and says, “If anything happens to Emily, Derek, I will disinherit you. And I mean anything, so you damn sure better hope a natural disaster doesn’t happen.” He reaches into his pocket and sets a piece of paper on the board. “There’s the amended page. It’s done. She’s one of us now and we protect her.”
“Why do you care about Emily?”
I might be shocked at my father’s actions, obviously planned to be a part of this night, but his motivation is clear to me. He wants my support to take down Mike, which means he’ll protect what is mine. His answer, however, is more simply his own, typical of who he is, and always has been. “Because only pussies use their women to fight their wars. Real men, Brandon men, fight one-on-one.”
Derek stands up and so do I, but my gaze lands on the empty spot where Emily no longer sits. I forget about my brother and my father, cutting around them to find Emily is not in the room. Nor is she with my mother, who is standing by the fireplace. She lifts a finger to point toward the door, the look on her face warning me that Emily had reacted to the exchange that just took place. Exiting the library, I search the foyer and the kitchen, my gut telling me she’s outside. Sure enough, she’s standing under a tree in the center of the yard, and she hasn’t even bothered with her wrap. Concerned, I walk to her but she doesn’t turn when I know she must hear my steps.
“Emily,” I say, stepping in front of her, my hands settling against her neck, under her hair. “What’s wrong?”
“Your brother threatened to kill me.”
“I don’t think that’s what he meant.”
“Your father did. What are we doing here? What is happening?”
I press my forehead to hers. “We’re okay. You’re okay.”
“I think I need you to promise that right now.”
“I promise.”
In that moment, I know I should offer to send her away again, but I can’t find the words. I can’t send her away. No matter how selfish it makes me, I need her too much to let her go. And if I have to use the tape I made to protect her, even at the expense of Derek’s life, I will. Without question and for the first time, I can say it without guilt. I know that means that this war has changed me. I know that winning it—which I must—will change me even more. But I am also certain that I won’t lose myself, as long as I don’t lose Emily.