23

GENEVA, SWITZERLAND

Sean made his way to the new NGO headquartered near the World Health Organization. While his heart longed to be on the front line of where the greatest need might be—like in Nepal, helping with the aftermath of the earthquake, or in Malawi, assisting severe flooding victims—he knew that the best use of his time, wealth, and talents was to network with those who commanded the troops in the field.

GlobalHealth was now flourishing and making even more of a difference, thanks to Sean’s generous gift. Now, in Geneva, he was doubling down on that gift by meeting with one of the key partners in their work, a relatively new NGO that worked closely with the pharmaceutical industry to take drugs about to expire and make them available across the world.

Prescription drugs were expensive in the West, in the developed world. But this particular NGO was run by a brilliant medical doctor who’d developed a system to move nearly expired drugs quickly. It was a bit like hedge funds that used computers to track data. The NGO, Quant Medical, used big data to find gaps in sales and approach companies about making donations. Those companies could then hedge their losses through the tax benefits. Both sides won.

GlobalHealth had introduced Sean to Quant Medical through a consultant who’d worked in some capacity for both organizations. Sean had texted back and forth with her several times prior to today.

It had been a long time since Sean had connected with his family. Even Sarah seemed to have given up trying to contact him for a while. By now she was used to his patterns.

“I figure you’ll pop up on the grid when you’re ready,” she teased him once when he’d been out of pocket for a month. “I can’t blame you for wanting to take a break from the Worthington craziness. I feel like that sometimes myself.”

He could count on his sister to be honest, even if she was good at manipulating him.

Sean hadn’t talked to Jon since he’d stated his interest in Elizabeth.

And Elizabeth? It had been even longer since their abruptly ended call when he’d behaved so badly. Yes, he could admit it now. But with his start-up globe-trotting he hadn’t had a minute to schedule a trip to Seattle, and she hadn’t responded to his texts asking how her work was going. Maybe she was neck-deep in a research project. Maybe she was still mad at him. Or maybe she was too focused on Jon now to respond.

The first two options he could handle. The third? He didn’t want to go there.

Strange how being on the road so much in the last month had increased his loneliness instead of energizing him. He felt fragmented from everyone he truly loved, even while his social networking circle increased exponentially. At least the jet-setting kept him from thinking too much.

He entered the bistro in downtown Geneva to meet his new colleagues from Quant Medical for dinner. Before he knew it, the two glasses of wine he’d had with dinner were taking a fuzzier toll on his brain than he’d expected. Sean wasn’t a drinker. Just a glass of wine with dinner sometimes, or the occasional beer after work with friends or in one of the suites at a New York Yankees game. That was all. He’d learned to nurse one drink for a long time.

Right as their evening was winding down, an exotic dark-haired, dark-eyed woman approached. “Hi, I’m Vanessa.” She pointed a well-manicured finger playfully at him. “And you are?”

“Sean.” He didn’t add his last name. Tonight he didn’t want to be a Worthington.

They started chatting, and he assessed her as his colleagues drifted away one by one. She was the flirtatious, looking-for-a-one-night-stand type who scoped out bars, and she seemed to be paying attention only to him.

Loneliness swept over him in the midst of the noisy crowd. What does it matter if I give in? No one will know, he rationalized. The woman he really wanted was quite likely gone—into the arms of his good friend, no doubt.

Suddenly his head ached from the alcohol, and he wanted the pain in his heart to go away. He found himself walking, one arm around Vanessa’s shoulders, back to his room.

But just as he reached his door, he heard an irritating voice in his head. Stay on the right path. He couldn’t brush it away. Even here, halfway across the world from New York City, he couldn’t escape the morals he’d grown up with.

So he did the only thing he could. He told Vanessa, “You’re beautiful. But this is not for me.”

She reached out one hand and stroked his face, then his chest. Her hand glided sensuously downward. “But I can—”

He grabbed her hand. “No, you can’t. I’m going inside my room. Alone. And you are going to leave.”

When he dropped her hand and turned to insert his key in the lock, he felt a brush in just the right place. His body betrayed him, responding almost instantly. She moved closer behind him, one arm snaking around his neck. Her breath was warm on his left ear.

Loneliness and desire peaked, weakening his resolve. For a minute he relished the touch, the promised pleasure. The key wavered in his hand.

Then the voice spoke again. Stay on the right path.

He spun and gave her a little shove away from him. “No. Leave now.”

With a swift movement that didn’t match his dulled faculties, he inserted the key in the lock and stepped inside his room. Slamming the door shut, he double-locked it.

Then, using the door as a prop for his back, he slid to the floor.

An image of Elizabeth, her brown eyes sparking with indignation like they had the day she’d been off-loaded from the USS Cantor during the oil fiasco, burned into his now crystal-clear mind.

He sat on the hotel room floor, stunned. How could this be happening to him? Talk about stupid. Suddenly every muscle ached like he’d been running a marathon, and he held his head in both hands.

Another thought struck him. People were always looking to take the Worthington family down, and he’d almost given them a reason. Talk about doubly stupid.

He straightened. What if Vanessa had been sent by political enemies he didn’t yet know even existed, to cause him harm? Giving in would have ended the potential of him running for governor of New York before he’d even begun. Even events that seemed secret would come to light, he knew. Drew had drilled that into his head especially in Sean’s teen years, when he’d been far more prone than his brother and sister to wander down the wrong path.

As crazy as it sounded even to himself, he truly was entertaining the idea of running for governor. It would make his father proud, for starters. What were Bill Worthington’s words when the family was gathered at Chautauqua? Sean searched his recall. “It’s about time for someone to turn this country around. Might as well be a Worthington.” Yes, that was it.

More than anything else in the world, Sean longed to hear from his father, “Well done, son.”

But that seemed to be his dad’s line to Will.

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

The man flipped through the package that had just arrived by special courier. Multiple digital shots showed Sean Worthington and an unknown woman walking down a hotel hallway, then stopping outside a room door. Tilting his head, the man studied every detail in the photos. Next he’d turn to the video footage.

His contact called several minutes later. “I assume you got the package.”

“Did he fall?” the man asked.

“No.” There was a pause at the other end of the line. “He was tempted, as you can see—what man with a pulse wouldn’t be? But he didn’t fall. He made his intent clear by slamming the hotel room door. Bet it was the first time anyone rejected that woman. Did you see the clip of her face right after the door slammed?”

“I haven’t watched the video footage yet.”

His contact chuckled. “It was murderous. Gives a new meaning to the old adage about what a spurned woman will do.”

So Sean is a good guy after all, untainted morally by wealth and position. The man nodded to himself. Bill Worthington had always been a straight-as-an-arrow kind. It would make sense he’d taught Sean to stay on the path. It was one of the many reasons the man was having Sean watched, to find out the truth behind the tabloid blarney.

“And the woman?” he asked.

“Top-of-the-line courtesan, flown in from London. Very expensive. Noted for getting the desired results.”

That merely firmed the man’s resolve to do what he needed to. He leaned in toward the phone. “What about that other matter?”

“Done,” the contact announced. “Sarah Worthington will be named the new AG.”

Ah, so the sharp young attorney can be derailed, the man thought. But for how long?