CECILY’S FIRST INSTINCT was to flee. He couldn’t love her. She was dying. This wasn’t supposed to be forever. She couldn’t offer him a life, and now he loved her? Yet, part of her knew she loved him, too. Had loved him that night he’d brought her back to his place, that night he’d taken her to a different world, one far away from here. He’d given her a most dangerous gift: hope.
Cupcake the horse whinnied behind her, bringing her back to reality. They were standing in a barn about to ride horses because this was on her bucket list, a list she was trying to speed through before her cancer caught up to her.
“Liam—” She needed to tell him that he couldn’t love her. Not now. That he needed to go find himself a healthy woman, one who could give him years, not months, in his life. Even if by some miracle they scrounged up the money for the experimental surgery, that was still no guarantee.
“You don’t have to say it back,” Liam said quickly. “I know this is happening fast.”
“Light speed, you mean,” she said, suddenly feeling dizzy, feeling off-balance. The smell of the horses in the barn overwhelmed her. As did everything Liam was saying. “Liam, you barely know me. You can’t just...throw everything away for me.”
“I’m not throwing anything away. I’m selling my board seat so you have a chance. It’s a trade I’m willing to make.”
“Liam, I—” How could she make him see that she couldn’t take that gift? She could not allow him to beg for money from the family who stole from him, the one he’d worked so hard to get away from his whole life. She couldn’t ask him to betray his principles. Not for her.
Just then his phone rang. Liam glanced at the face of it and scowled. “It’s Wilder,” he said.
“Don’t answer it,” Cecily implored, tugging at his arm. But he hit the answer button.
“This is Liam,” he said, pressing the phone to his ear, even as his jaw muscles twitched. He listened for a beat, and turned, walking away from Cupcake, just as Carlos appeared again in the barn, carrying two saddles, ready to saddle their horses for their ride. Cecily followed Liam out of the barn. “I’ll be there,” she heard. “Yeah. Okay.” He hung up without so much as a goodbye.
“What did he say?” Cecily asked, her boots crunching on the gravel driveway.
“He wants to meet. Tomorrow. His place.” Liam looked as if he’d eaten something bitter. His mouth puckered in distaste.
“I’m coming with you,” Cecily said.
His eyes flashed fire. “No, you’re not. You don’t want to meet them. They aren’t nice people.”
“That’s why I want to meet them. You shouldn’t go back there alone.”
“I’m not going to let you go,” Liam said, crossing his arms.
“Then I’m not going to get that surgery.” Cecily turned back to the barn. Two could play this game of chicken.
Liam followed. “I really don’t want you to do this,” he said, as seemingly one last attempt to convince her this was a bad idea.
“I know,” she said. “But I won’t let you go back alone. This is about me, so I should be there. I should have a say.”
The next day, Cecily stood in the high-speed private elevator that was taking them up to his half brother’s Manhattan penthouse high above Fifth Avenue. She’d never been inside the mammoth glass-and-chrome building that towered over the street, far above the noise of traffic below, and wondered if this was how the other half lived. Or she noted the fact that the private elevator went straight to the top of the building with no stops in between and corrected herself: this must be where the other half of the one percent lived.
Liam grasped her hand and squeezed it gently. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked her. “There’s still time for you to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She held his hand tightly in hers. She glanced down at her striped shorts jumper and her gladiator sandals, wondering if she’d gone too casual. Outside, the hot and muggy June air demanded something summery and light, but in the cool confines of the chrome elevator, she wondered if her bare, tan legs might be too much. “Are you sure I’m dressed okay?”
“We’re not here to impress them,” Liam said, voice curt. He wore a simple blue polo and cargo shorts. His whole body was tense, though, as if he were gearing up for a fight. She pressed her face against his shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said, even though she really had no idea whether it would be or not. She wasn’t sure at all what to expect, but what she did know was she wasn’t going to let Liam give away his board seat for her. She wasn’t going to let him betray his principles.
The elevator arrived at the penthouse, and opened up directly into a beautiful foyer, with sleek gray walls and marbled floors. A butler—she assumed—was waiting for them, because he wore a gray suit, gloved hands clasped in front of him.
“Jacob,” Liam said, recognizing the mostly gray-headed man. “How are you?” Liam extended his hand but the older gentleman crushed him in a big hug. She was surprised at the show of affection. This was not the standoffish reception that Cecily was expecting.
He beamed as he stepped back, his gaze sweeping Liam from head to toe. “Good to see you. You look well.”
“Jacob, this is my girlfriend, Cecily.” The word took her by surprise. Girlfriend. It felt so permanent somehow, so decided. She liked it, though. Liked the way he put a little emphasis on the word.
“Hello, Jacob.” She extended her hand for a shake and Jacob took it gently.
“So very lovely to meet you,” he said, flashing her a warm smile and dipping his head a bit. “I haven’t seen Liam since he was...what?”
“Eighteen,” Liam said.
“I used to watch over him when he was a boy,” Jacob offered, eyes bright with the memory. “I had to keep my eye on him because he was always sneaking cookies from the pantry.”
“Who? Me?” Liam grinned. Cecily glanced between the two men, and then around them in the huge foyer with high ceilings and original modern artwork on the walls. She wondered how much that cost. Beyond one of the open doors in the hall, she caught a glimpse of the magnificent view out the floor-to-ceiling windows: smaller skyscrapers, and beyond, a small thatch of green. Central Park.
“Wilder is excited to see you,” Jacob told Liam, who frowned ever so slightly, his enthusiasm clearly dampened.
“Is he?” Liam sounded suspicious.
“He’s missed you these many years.” Jacob lowered his voice. “He hopes that you and he...might reconcile.”
Cecily felt hope flicker in her chest. She knew there were two sides to every feud. Liam had been hurt and felt betrayed, but maybe a small part of her hoped it had all been some terrible misunderstanding. Sure, she would always take Liam’s side, but she wanted for the two brothers to get along.
“Wilder wants to reconcile,” Liam repeated, but his tone suggested he didn’t believe Jacob. Not one bit.
“You know he’s changed so much since he got married last year. Love has changed him. Warmed his heart.”
Liam snorted, unimpressed. “Sure, it has.”
“Please. Come see for yourself.” Jacob pivoted, and led them down the long hallway to what appeared to be a study. Jacob walked through the doorway and they followed into a library of chrome shelves, all boasting vintage books. The walls and furniture were a combination of everything modern: white, chrome and gray, except for the traditional paintings hung in various places and the antique pieces of furniture that complemented the room. The place felt like a bundle of contradictions that somehow worked. The room was old and new, antique and modern, Cecily thought.
But soon enough her attention was drawn to the far corner of the room, near the massive windows showcasing the blue sky beyond, where two figures stood: a man and a woman. Wilder, she recognized instantly, because he looked so very much like Liam. The two had the same athletic build, and the same dark brown eyes, but their hair was slightly different: Wilder’s was darker and slicked back. Liam’s was lighter and highlighted by all the time he spent in the sun. Wilder looked like he lived indoors in sleek boardrooms, and he wore an expensive suit and tie. Not like Liam, whose tanned face and calloused hands told a different story. Liam tightened his grip on her hand.
“Liam. Good to see you,” Wilder said, walking forward as if to offer his hand. Liam tensed, so Wilder stepped back, dropping his hand. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Harley.” Cecily glanced at the gorgeous brunette, her light brown eyes smart and assessing, her face tinged with just the hint of nerves. Cecily knew how she felt. They were both women in a room with two men who may hug or fight. The outcome was far, far from certain.
“So nice to meet you. I’m Cecily.” Cecily released Liam’s hand. She wasn’t going to let Wilder’s wife get the cold shoulder. She hadn’t done anything. Relief flooded Harley’s face.
“So nice to meet you, too, Cecily.” Rather than offering a hand for a shake, Harley pulled her into a warm hug. Her silk printed dress felt soft and she smelled like the barest hint of a flowery perfume. Cecily liked her right away. They pulled apart, and Wilder was there.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Cecily said, offering her hand. He took it, and she noticed his palm was smooth and his nails neatly manicured. Not a man who likely ever worked with his hands.
Liam, for his part, stayed rooted to the spot, eyeing both Wilder and Harley as if they might be rival predators, looking for the right angle to attack.
“How about we just get down to business, and then we’ll be on our way?” Liam asked, his voice gruff, his manner all defensive.
Wilder’s dark gaze, a little dangerous now, met his brother’s. “Harley? Would you like to show Cecily the rooftop garden? I think Liam and I have a few things to discuss.”
Cecily clutched Liam’s hand, not wanting to let go. She glanced at him, but his profile was stoic, unreadable. He looked down at her.
“It’s okay. You can go.”
“But—” She didn’t want negotiations of any kind to go on without her. She was here to make sure Liam didn’t do anything foolish in her name.
Liam bent down and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “Go look at the garden.”
“Cecily?” Harley asked, unsure. Cecily glanced at the woman, who’d clearly been given instructions by her husband to distract her while the brothers talked. She supposed she wouldn’t really be able to fight it. Maybe talking to Harley would help her get a better lay of the land, anyway.
“I’d love to see the garden,” Cecily said, smiling at Harley, even as she sent an uneasy glance backward at Liam as she moved to the door. She just hoped the two didn’t brawl the second she was out of the room. Liam looked like he’d wanted nothing more than to land a right hook to his brother’s jaw. She sent up a silent prayer that nothing crazy happened in her absence and followed Harley into the hallway.
Liam felt the adrenaline already rushing through his veins, the fight-or-flight instincts warring with each other as he stood in his brother’s study. He hadn’t been in this room since he was barely a man, but mostly still a boy, back when this massive two-story penthouse served as the family home when they weren’t staying at the massive mansion upstate, or at one of a half dozen or so properties around the world. Liam had renovated it, of course, the modern chrome bookshelves nothing like the big oak ones their father preferred. The only thing that remained the same, he noted, was the marble floor and the big oak door. Everything else was Wilder’s. Somehow, the transformation of the room and the penthouse made Liam bristle. What Dad made, what he’d created, was never good enough for his oldest son.
“Want a drink?” Wilder asked, walking over to the rolling glass bar cart near the corner. He picked up a decanter of amber liquid. “Bourbon? Scotch?”
“No. Thanks.” Liam ground out the words. He told himself he needed to be nice. After all, he was here to ask a favor. But niceties dried up in his throat when he thought of all the ways Wilder had wronged him. The last year of private school, unpaid. The humiliating move. The way he’d tried to trick him when he was just fourteen.
“Suit yourself.” Wilder poured himself a generous serving of bourbon and moved to the overstuffed chair near his desk. “Please. Sit.” He indicated the sofa. Liam chose the hard-back chair instead. A small act of defiance, but he wasn’t going to be told where to sit.
“So, I heard from Maria that you’re interested in selling your board seat.”
“That’s right.” He crossed his legs, trying to remain calm, even though his heart had ticked up a notch.
“Why?” Wilder stared at him, his sharp eyes focused, his facial expression revealing nothing. Liam suddenly remembered that hard look from when he was a boy, back when Wilder was twice his size, and able to wrest away sweets from his little boy hands, lecturing him on ruining his appetite for dinner. But, Liam reminded himself, he was that little boy no longer. If push came to shove, he could take Wilder. He had more muscle, and he was used to working with his hands. Wilder was athletic, yes, but so was Liam. Wilder was no longer the oversized, intimidating big brother of his old memories. Not anymore.
Except he did have the advantage. He was the one who could write the check that could save Cecily’s life. Be nice. Get this done and get out, he told himself. For Cecily.
“The reason doesn’t concern you.”
“Are you in trouble?” Wilder said it as if he expected Liam would be.
“No.” Liam realized his hands were shaking a bit. Nerves? Anger? He wasn’t sure. He clasped them tightly in his lap.
“Drugs? Gambling?” Wilder raised a slim, dark eyebrow.
Liam frowned. “Hell, no. Why would you say that?”
“Your mother—”
“Leave her out of this.” Liam uncrossed his legs and grabbed the arms of his chair, all the while trying to rein in his rage. Just because his mother was an alcoholic didn’t mean he was an addict. And he resented the implication. Besides, she was sober now. Had been for years. Not that Wilder cared to ever check in on her.
Wilder held up one hand as if surrendering the line of questioning, the amber liquid in the glass held in his other hand sloshing a bit. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I just have to ask. I was surprised to hear from you. You didn’t come to the wedding.”
“I didn’t think it was a genuine invite.” Also, he wasn’t much in the mood to celebrate how Wilder planned to start his own family, direct even more of the Lange wealth to a new branch.
Wilder frowned and took another drink. “Look, Liam, I know you don’t think highly of me. I know we haven’t always gotten along.”
Liam had to hold in a snort as he remembered how they’d never clicked, how nothing Liam ever did was right, how Wilder always picked his brothers’ company over his. That had been Wilder’s doing. From the start.
“But I am trying to do what’s best for this family. I’m trying to build on the company Dad built. I’m trying to make sure we’re all safe. That we all do well.” Wilder set down the half-empty glass on a nearby side table.
Liam studied his older brother, amazed at how well he could lie. He wondered how often Wilder had practiced that speech in the mirror. Probably so often he’d started to believe it.
“Do you really believe that?”
Wilder blinked. “Yes. Because it’s true.”
“You are talking to the wrong person if you want me to believe you’re a hero. I think we both know that’s not true.” Liam stared at his older brother. “You can act like the patriarch of the family, the savior, but you tried to trick me. When I was fourteen.”
“I was trying to help you pay for school.”
“By getting me to sign papers that I didn’t understand.”
Wilder opened his mouth to say something, but then fell silent. He stared at the bourbon in his glass, as if trying to see the past there.
“Let’s not pretend that you did everything you did out of the goodness of your heart, okay?”
“That was a difficult time. Your mother was working against me. I needed to maintain control. Only then could I help you all. Save the family.”
Liam barked a laugh. “You think you’re the hero, but you did that all for yourself. For your greed.”
“I always tried to help you—and your brothers,” Wilder protested. “I helped Seth come out. When nobody else would.”
Liam rolled his eyes. He’d been hearing about this all the time. As if Liam neglected Seth, as if Liam wasn’t also pushing their parents to accept him when he came out. “You act like this big savior, helping Mom and Dad come to terms with their gay son, but don’t you think Seth could’ve done that just fine by himself? I think you got in the middle because it suited you—politically.”
“How on earth—”
“You never make a move unless it’s to your advantage. I don’t believe you do things out of the goodness of your heart, Wilder. That’s what Seth and Stuart may think, but I know better.”
“You always believed the worst of me,” Wilder said.
“That’s because you always showed me your worst side,” Liam countered.
Wilder sighed, leaned back in his overstuffed leather chair, and took another drink. “So you won’t tell me why you want to sell your seat. Will you tell me how much you want to sell it for?”
“Half a million,” Liam said, keeping his gaze focused on Wilder’s. He figured there was the surgery, and then there was time she’d need to heal, and travel and other expenses, and the fact he wouldn’t be able to work when he was with her. Not to mention, he thought, he wanted to make sure he had plenty, in case the experimental treatment didn’t work out.
“I offered you much more than that the first time around,” Wilder said. “Why not ask for that?”
“I don’t need it. This is what I need, and I’m asking you for it.” Liam wrapped his fingers around the hard, wooden arms of his chair. He needed to hold on to something, so he didn’t spring up and make Wilder give him the cash. “You owe me much more than that, and we both know it.”
“But why do you need it?” Wilder’s dark eyes met his. They were his own eyes, their father’s eyes.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Doesn’t have anything to do with the beautiful woman on your arm? Cecily?”
Liam tightened his grip on the arms of the chair. “I said it’s none of your business.”
Wilder leaned forward, pressing his palms together, almost as if in prayer. “If you don’t tell me why, then I won’t sell you the seat. It’s really that simple.”
Liam felt fury rise in him. This is what he hated about Wilder. His half brother was always trying to make the rules, control the outcome. It was why he loved running the family business so much. He could tell all the trained monkeys who worked for him to dance, and they would. But not him.
“And if you do know the reason, will you still say no?” Liam asked.
Wilder crossed his legs, looking every bit like a king on his throne, as he rested his glass on the arm of his chair. “I might. But I will definitely say no if you don’t tell me the why.”
Liam felt the war in him brewing: Cecily’s surgery versus kowtowing to Wilder’s whims. He hated the power struggle, hated that once again, Wilder held all the cards. That no matter what Liam tried to do, he never could get out from under Wilder’s boot.
He struggled with a growing desire to punch Wilder in the face and leave. But that wouldn’t help Cecily. He saw her innocent blue eyes, remembered the tears clouding them when she talked about her uncertain future.
“I need it to save Cecily,” he admitted. “If I don’t get that money, she’s going to die.”