8

NEW YORK CITY

Something wasn’t right, and that something kept Sean awake most of the night, thrashing in the bedcovers. Finally, sweating in the new silk sheets and vowing to tell his housekeeper to go back to the 100 percent Egyptian cotton ones, Sean threw the sheets and covers off. He padded in bare feet to the fridge, opened it, and grabbed a carton of orange juice. Just as he tipped it back to chug it, he heard his mother’s voice in his head.

“Sean Thomas Worthington, pour that into a glass first!”

He chuckled. Why did mothers always use a child’s full name when chiding them?

Then what had been bothering him struck home. When he was sitting at the table with his mom and Laura, more than one unusual glance passed between the two women. At the time he’d been agitated enough to pass it off as women sharing empathy in a difficult situation. But the more he thought about it, he recalled that their gazes had often flickered to him and then back to each other.

Laura had said none of them knew before Will made his announcement. She had never been known to tell a lie. But they do know something, he realized. And they’re being as tight-lipped as Will.

Once again, Sean felt like an outsider in his own family. Perhaps that was why, as time passed growing up, he had become more comfortable relating to those who weren’t Worthingtons. The two exceptions were Drew and his wife, Jean. Sean considered them both family and friends. In fact, it had been Drew and Ava who had escorted Sean to his first day of kindergarten. His father had been in India.

Since then Sean had never doubted two things—Drew would shoot straight with him, and he would be in Sean’s court. In the swirl of wealth and fame, loyalty was a priceless commodity. Perhaps that was why, when Drew had phoned to get the Worthington siblings together for dinner awhile back, Sean had gone, even though he’d been late due to a business commitment at a bar near 20th and Madison.

That night Sean had nursed a drink for nearly an hour, waiting for the executive from the start-up company to show. The man never did. Instead Sean had chatted with a talkative guy who seemed slightly drunk or maybe a bit off his meds.

Later that evening Drew had given Sean, Will, and Sarah the longest speech of his life, warning them that the oil spill would shape each of their destinies. “I will fight with every ounce of my being to protect the Worthington business. But what I most care about is how this will affect you—each of you,” he had said.

That was one of many qualities that distinguished Drew from anyone else in the Wall Street high-roller circuit of America’s wealthiest individuals. Drew didn’t care just about the business. He cared about each of the Worthington kids personally.

That was why it had been Drew and Jean who had sent their nanny, Robyn, over to take Laura and Will’s kids away for a while. It was also why, Sean surmised, Drew was conspicuously MIA. He still hadn’t texted Sean to check in, which was highly unusual for the man who kept tabs on everything Worthington. That meant Drew was on the trail of figuring out what had happened.

For now, that was enough. That security would allow Sean to go back to sleep.

He squinted at the kitchen clock. It was 4:00. So he’d have a short sleep. That was nothing new. With his globe-hopping, he was used to pulling all-nighters.

But even when he settled back in bed, he was haunted by Will’s strange expression—the sadness, the pity, the fear. It was downright weird. Will was normally the high-strung one, needing every detail to be perfect. Instead he was calm, as though his emotions had been wrung out.

Sean couldn’t shake the impression that something was deeply wrong with his brother.

Will and Laura were still awake, drinking decaf at their kitchen table. It was after 4:00 a.m. In another three hours, their youngest, Davy, would bounce in, demanding breakfast.

Laura’s brow furrowed in thought. “So Carson and Sandstrom think they won.” The green in her hazel eyes won out over the brown. That happened only when she was spunky or really angry, and both emotions now vied for precedence.

“Yep,” Will said.

She tilted her head. “But you’re not going to let them win.”

He smiled. “Of course not.”