I shake my head, dab my eyes with my sleeve.

“What do you two talk about?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

Travis just looks at me, refusing to repeat the question. I shrink back into the chair and shake my head.

“We talk about all sorts of things,” I say. “Politics, food, history, and pop culture . . . And work, of course. He’s had a lot of questions about my work for you and Jessica, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“You’ve only worked a day and a half for us.”

“True . . . He wanted to know all about the interview. He had lots of questions about my first day with Jessica. He was really interested to find out what my first day would be like working with you, asking if I would be helping you with bank-related business, or if you would be meeting with any clients or investors during the day, and if you would meet with them on-site or not. He was just intensely curious. Of course I certainly won’t tell him any of that and I absolutely won’t tell him about today’s errand. I doubt he’d believe it anyway,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“No,” Travis says, his voice completely cold. “You won’t tell him about that.” He then shakes his head, absorbing. “I knew something was up with him. He’s been too nice of late. Too accommodating.”

“Well . . . he is your brother. Is it really so strange that he would want to accommodate you?”

“You don’t know Lander,” he snaps. “You may know who he is in the bedroom, but there’s not a soul on earth who knows what’s going on inside his head. Although I’m beginning to suspect . . .”

His voice trails off, and his eyes glaze over as his thoughts move outside the room to wherever Lander is.

“Suspect what?” I ask softly, wanting to share in his mental journey.

“I want you to keep seeing him.”

I don’t say a word.

“Yes,” Travis continues, “don’t let him know there’s a problem at all—”

“You ask too much.”

Travis stops short and stares at me with dawning surprise.

“I bought what I thought were drugs for you. I even tasted them, although I didn’t want to. It’s not for me to judge what your recreational activities are. And if you want me to stop seeing your brother I’d understand. I can see why that might interfere with our professional relationship. But you can’t tell me who I should sleep with, or continue to sleep with. I choose my lovers; no one chooses them for me.” I take a deep breath before adding, rather dramatically, “I’m a lot of things, Mr. Gable, but I’m not a whore.”

“I didn’t say—”

“It was implied.”