Title Page

Copyright

Copyright © 2016 by J.L. Berg

Formatting: Champagne Formats

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9903460-9-8

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Other Books by the Author

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Dedication

For my readers, who waited patiently for Jude's brutish brother to finally have his time in the spotlight. I hope I've made it worth the wait.

Prologue

“Are you excited Roman?” my mother asked, straightening my tie, as I peered at myself in the mirror.

Nodding with enthusiasm, I stared at my reflection with a mixture of pride and bewilderment. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in a suit or fancy clothes. Growing up as a Cavenaugh, even one as young as me, had its duties.

I laughed internally at the way my hair molded to my head. Mom always had the hardest time with it. She called it her biggest challenge yet as a mother because, no matter how she had it cut or styled, she could never get the crazy strands to bend to her will.

It didn’t help that I was constantly messing it up, running my hands through it before a big test or when Molly Adams smiled at me during art class.

“Well, your brother is just finishing up, so get your shoes on, and I’ll meet you at the front door,” she instructed, giving me a warm smile, before leaving the room.

I did as I was told, double-knotting each loop to make sure I wouldn’t trip.

He might be my father, but I still wanted to make a good impression.

I’d never been invited to his work before. Mom had said it was a big deal.

My future.

I didn’t quite understand what all that meant, but I wanted to make my father proud. So, on a Monday morning, when most kids my age were still in their pajamas, reveling in the teacher workday we had off from school, I was making my way downtown to a high-rise that had my name written on the side.