BYRON WAS AT the top of his game.
His heart pumped with exhilaration. The smile that refused to leave his face was beginning to hurt his cheeks. He stared out at the crowd surrounding the stage, and the eyes looking back at him were bright with enthusiasm, hope and determination. Signs with his campaign’s green-and-blue logo flowed like waves in their hands. A blend of people from all races, economic classes and social backgrounds packed into the brewery where he’d chosen to hold his watch party.
And he hadn’t let them down. The results were in. He’d won.
His supporters’ fervor was like a tidal wave, bowling him over with its strength. He’d done this. He’d actually gotten this far. The primary win wasn’t a guarantee he’d win a seat in the Senate, but he had lasted long enough to beat out an opponent with experience as a state legislator and a much longer record of public service. Living up to the expectations of the people who’d voted for him, the people who were currently cheering for him, was something he refused to take lightly.
“I promise you,” Byron said into the microphone. In his periphery, Roy, his campaign manager, took a step forward. Byron could hear Roy’s warning in his head. Never make promises in a speech. They come back and bite you in the ass. But Byron didn’t care about that right now. This was a promise he planned to keep.
Byron held up a finger and shook his hand with each word. “I promise you I will not forget the trust you all have honored me with tonight. We have gotten this far, and we will keep going all the way to Washington. No more waiting for tomorrow. The time is now!”
The crowd cheered. They held up and waved his signs and repeated his words. “The time is now!” The campaign slogan had come about during a debate after his opponent, State Senator Gordan, insisted the time wasn’t right to try and fight the administration on progressive ideas. Byron’s immediate comeback had been that fifteen years was too long to wait, and the time was now.
A slim hand slid into his left one and squeezed. Byron turned from the crowd toward his fiancée, Yolanda. Her brown eyes were filled with pride. Tall, graceful and perfectly polished in a tasteful green blouse and navy pants—to match his campaign colors—she complemented him. As Byron wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, they looked like a young, optimistic couple deeply in love.
But Byron didn’t miss how a gleam of triumph overshadowed the pride in her eyes. Yolanda was a woman on her way to making partner at the reputable law firm she worked for. A position beneficial for the wife of North Carolina’s newest senator.
Byron leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. She placed a hand on his cheek. Her nails lightly scratched the beard he’d grown during the last weeks of the campaign. Her gentle reminder to cut the damn thing, before she pulled back and grinned wider. “We did it,” she said.
He slid his arm back and entwined their fingers. “Yes, we did.”
They waved and shook hands as they made their way off the stage. The band played upbeat music. Champagne corks popped throughout the building and more beer poured from the tap. The party would start now, along with the real work. He needed to finalize the strategy against his opponent. Brainstorm how to reach the digitally disconnected members in his district. Figure out the best way to utilize his family to spread his message throughout the area. Develop a plan to be more relatable to his constituents. Something even more necessary now that his best friend and former brother-in-law had plans to remarry into the family. This time with a different sister.
“I know that look,” came a booming male voice.
Byron shifted and faced his father. Grant Robidoux had a Robidoux Tobacco cigar in one hand, and the other slammed down hard onto Byron’s shoulder and squeezed. His dad was what Byron imagined he’d look like one day. Skin the color of dark honey slightly lined due to age, light brown eyes and curly hair with just enough salt and pepper to make people say he looked distinguished. Pride radiated off him like sunbeams as he studied Byron’s face.
Byron took the glass of champagne Yolanda handed to him that she accepted off the tray of a passing server. “What look is that, Dad?”
“The I’m-already-planning-the-next-step look,” Grant said, pointing his cigar at Byron. “Not tonight. There is enough time for strategy tomorrow. Tonight you enjoy the win.” He winked at Yolanda. “Enjoy the company of the beautiful woman at your side. The real fight is about to begin. But give yourself this moment to bask in the glory.”
Yolanda raised her glass and tapped it against Byron’s. “I agree with that.”
Byron forced the massive list of things he needed to do to the back of his mind. Taking a second to enjoy this milestone wouldn’t hurt. “Fine, I’ll sit back and enjoy this win, but I’m starting early tomorrow.” He glanced around the crowd and caught the fierce glare of his older sister. “Uh-oh.”
Grant’s brows drew together. “Uh-oh? What’s wrong?”
“Elaina is scowling. Do you know why?” Nothing good ever followed one of Elaina’s scowls. She’d just been smiling and clapping with the rest of his supporters.
Grant’s gaze shifted away. He brought the cigar to his nose and sniffed. “No idea.”
“You’re lying.” Byron didn’t hesitate to call his dad out. He loved and respected his dad more than any other man in the world, but he also knew when Grant was trying to keep something from him. “What happened?”
Grant shrugged. “Nothing big. India and Travis ducked out right before your acceptance speech, and she’s worried they’ve run off and done something stupid.”
Byron relaxed. “They’re probably just getting out of here to spend a few minutes alone together. I don’t blame them after we spent the last few weeks pretending as if they weren’t together. You tell Elaina to do exactly what you told me. Enjoy the win and strategize tomorrow.”
Byron wasn’t concerned about his younger sister and best friend leaving his party early. They were crazy about each other—God help them—and they wanted to spend time together. Elaina’s being upset, well, that made more sense. Even though she’d given her blessing to India and Travis after discovering they were in love, the situation was still awkward as hell.
“Why do I have to tell her?” Grant asked, sounding genuinely put out.
Byron lightly hit his father’s shoulder. “Because it’s my party and I don’t want to.” He wrapped his arm around Yolanda’s shoulders and maneuvered her away from his dad in the opposite direction of Elaina.
“You know you were wrong for doing that,” Yolanda said, chuckling.
“He’s the one who told me to relax. Dealing with whatever is bothering Elaina is not my idea of relaxing.”
Yolanda sighed and leaned farther into him. “I still can’t believe you’re okay with India and Travis. God knows how we’re going to smooth over this situation in the media. We don’t need anything smearing your campaign.”
“Don’t worry. This won’t smear my campaign. If anything, it’ll show how well our family works together.” Or reveal just how cracked we are beneath the polished exterior.
Byron caught the eye of one of his larger donors. He smiled and waved and moved in that direction. He added worrying about his family’s image to the long list of items he’d have to overcome if he hoped to win in November.
Yolanda dug her feet in and stopped him. Her eyes were serious as they met his. “I’m not playing about this. We have to be delicate moving forward. I’m with you to win. Not to let the soft spot you have for your baby sister and best friend derail this train.”
Yolanda’s words were pragmatic as always. Her practicality and ability to strategize was why he’d agreed to this engagement, but that didn’t stop irritation from crawling up his spine. Happiness was hard to find. So why get in the way when two people he cared about actually found it? He may not be a proponent of true love, but he also wouldn’t begrudge those who were.
“I know why you’re here,” he said. She reminded him at least once a week. “We need each other, and it’ll take both of us to win. Don’t worry about India and Travis. Their relationship won’t be the thing that kills my campaign.”
“Byron! Congratulations!” The happy voice of the donor whose eye he’d caught a second ago.
“Hello, Mr. Sparrow. Mrs. Sparrow, so good to see you again.” Byron grinned and shook hands.
Yolanda’s face became a mask of blissful happiness as they talked and schmoozed their way through the party. This was their future. He’d known what he was getting into when his campaign manager mentioned that proposing and marrying would make him a more viable candidate.
So why was it bothering him tonight?
Things were going exactly the way he wanted them to. Yolanda’s business ties, along with her family’s history in politics, combined with his family’s wealth and influence, was political gold. On top of that, he liked her. She was driven, attractive, passionate and had let him know from their very first date she wanted to help him on his rise to the top. Yolanda was a woman who knew her own mind and didn’t apologize for going after what she wanted. He never had to guess where he stood with her.
Movement in his periphery caught his eye. He turned and his entire body went rigid. Guess everything wasn’t going as planned tonight. Dominic Ferrell, the consultant he’d hired to help with his campaign, made his way toward Byron, his expression grim and his dark eyes blank.
Nothing good could come of Dominic’s showing up tonight. He’d hired the guy months ago to handle a situation from his past, one that Byron had paid a lot of money to hopefully fix. Dominic kept in touch to let him know if anything popped up. Mostly via email and the occasional phone call. Never in person.
Byron excused himself from the group. Ignoring Yolanda’s concerned gaze, he walked up to Dominic. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone is here to see you.” Dominic’s calm expression didn’t waver. Dominic was always calm. An observer who could charm as easily as he could intimidate. But the sharpness of his gaze put Byron on edge.
Byron’s heart jumped in his chest. “Zoe?” He’d thought he’d protected her. Had something gone wrong?
Dominic shook his head. “No. She’s still back home living her life with no signs of any problems. But I don’t know if I can guarantee that much longer.”
Byron shifted closer to Dominic. He rubbed his beard, a new habit now that he had one, and tried not to let the fear seeping into him show. “Why?”
Dominic nodded his head back toward the door. “Come with me. You don’t want him to create a scene.”
Him? “Let’s go.” Byron followed Dominic out of the party, through the kitchen in the back and into an empty office. Once inside, a man he didn’t recognize turned and faced him. Slim, with beady black eyes and a shifting stance. Byron immediately didn’t like the guy.
“Byron Robidoux, this is Carlton Powell,” Dominic said through clenched teeth.
Byron’s hands tightened into fists. “Carlton Powell? What the hell are you doing here?” Byron had paid Dominic a lot of money to keep Carlton out of his business. Carlton had been hired to find the same person Byron had been looking for before announcing his run, and Byron hoped the payoff would ensure that he moved on to other things.
Carlton rubbed his hands together. “Don’t be so rude. I’m here to do you a favor.”
“I don’t need any favors from you.” Byron glared at Dominic. “You brought him here?”
Dominic shook his head. “No. I’ve kept tabs on him. When I found out he was in town, I followed him here. Stopped him before he confronted you.”
“I’m not confronting anyone,” Carlton said with the nerve to sound affronted. “I’m just here because I’ve got an offer I think the future senator can’t refuse.”
“What offer is that?” Byron asked.
“An offer to keep what I know to myself instead of telling all those happy people out there.” Carlton pointed to the closed door. “About you being a deadbeat dad.”
Byron’s stomach flipped, and sweat ran down his back, but he didn’t flinch. He hadn’t become a defense attorney and served a term in the state house without knowing how to hide his shock. “I’m not a deadbeat dad. I don’t have any children.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Carlton said, sounding like he’d gotten the gospel truth on everything Byron Robidoux. “You see, after you sent me on my way I did a little digging on my own. Turns out the woman you told me to stay away from also told a few people you were the father of her kid.”
Byron gritted his teeth. He should have known this would come back. He didn’t have any children, but thirteen years ago he’d agreed to help a friend out by keeping her secret and going along with a lie. The image of Zoe in his college apartment, her face bruised, and tears in her eyes as she’d clung to him, played like a bad movie in his mind.
Byron, please say the baby is yours. He’ll kill me if I stay with him. This is my only way out.
Even now the memory filled him with rage and helplessness. Zoe had been his best friend. His homegirl. He’d loved her with everything he had, but when he’d told her, she’d tossed his love back at him as if playing hot potato. She’d been in love with someone else. A guy Byron had never thought deserved her. A guy Byron discovered way too late that he’d been right about. So he’d kept her secret. Said the child was his and promised never to say anything.
“You’re coming to me with rumors,” Byron replied coldly. He wasn’t playing his hand without knowing exactly what Carlton knew and wanted.
Carlton shrugged. “Rumors can do a lot of damage. You see, I doubt you’re really the father. The person who originally sent me to find ol’ girl was pretty sure someone else was the father. Now, I took your money to lead them off her trail, but then I got to wondering why so many people were interested in this one woman and her kid. Did a little research and here we are,” he said, sounding pleased with himself.
“Get to the point,” Dominic said in a deadly voice.
“My point is regardless of who the baby daddy is, I think word getting out about everyone’s favorite candidate possibly being on the birth certificate won’t be good for your campaign. You know the early polls show a strong lead over this other guy. Be a damn shame to lose because people think you’re an absentee father.”
Byron didn’t have time for this. “What do you want?” he asked instead of going with the urge to shove Carlton into the wall.
“A million dollars,” Carlton said without missing a heartbeat. “I know you’re good for it. Your family is known for its wealth.”
“I don’t have a million dollars.” He did, but he’d be damned if this guy got any more of his money.
“Oh, I don’t want it tonight. I’ll give you say...two weeks to come up with the money.” Carlton spoke as if he were a debt collector who’d done a client a favor by extending the deadline. “Bask in this win. Let it sink in a little what you stand to lose.”
Byron was well aware of what he had to lose. He was also shrewd enough to realize that paying Carlton wasn’t going to make this problem go away. He needed to know how far this guy was willing to go.
“What if I say no?” Byron asked. He crossed his arms and sized up Carlton. “A DNA test will prove I’m not the father.”
Carlton sucked his teeth and shook his head. “But the scandal it’ll cause. That, and your playboy ways. Oh, I’m sure there are dozens of other women willing to come forward and claim you’re their kid’s dad.”
The greedy gleam in Carlton’s eyes made Byron’s stomach churn. He wouldn’t doubt Carlton already had managed to find women who’d say they’d slept with him. Even if he had a dozen paternity tests to prove his innocence, the stigma would follow him and cost him the campaign.
“I thought you’d see what I mean,” Carlton said. “Just think it over. But not for too long.” Carlton put two fingers to his brow in a mock salute and walked out.
Byron punched his fist into his opposite hand. “Fuck!”
Dominic frowned. “You can’t pay him again. Guys like Carlton never go away. I never should have taken his first deal.”
Byron paced back and forth. His mind raced with what to do next. He couldn’t dwell on previous decisions. They were already done and he couldn’t change them. He’d have to deal with the consequences of those decisions.
“Protecting Zoe is what matters,” he said. “Carlton just proved what I feared most. Her ex is about to get out of jail and he’s looking for her. There’s no way that man should be able to get close to her.”
“If you pay him for this, you’ll have a paper trail of past dealings with him. He’ll make things worse and won’t hesitate to out you as a guy leaving babies all over the Southeast.”
Byron stopped pacing and met Dominic’s concerned stare. “No, he won’t. I have no intentions of paying him.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
He was going to outplay Carlton. Growing up as a Robidoux taught him to recognize when he needed to make a big play in order to win. “I’m going to see Zoe. It’s time we figured out our next move in this game.”