“It feels good to be wanted. To have someone tell you that you’re worth something and you’re a valued part of the team.” She pauses. “Thank you, Whit. I know this is all because of you, and I’m grateful.”

I shake my head. “No. This is all because of you. You’re the one who impressed the boss so much that she was willing to do anything to get you back. How do you feel about having a little celebratory dinner tonight?”

“Up here? Room service? Like we’re fancy?”

The bartender sets a glass of champagne in front of me without me even having to ask.

I shoot a wink at my aunt. “There’s no like about us being fancy. Clearly, we are.”

She lifts her glass and clinks the rim against mine. “Then by all means, we better celebrate. Who knows when we’ll get another chance.”

Twenty-Eight

Lincoln

My concentration has been totally shot since Commodore’s nuclear bomb of a disclosure this afternoon. When I return to the office, I work late into the night to take care of everything that needs my attention, but I’m doing a half-assed job at best.

Commodore’s PI is still working on finding a divorce decree or an annulment, but until he does, I have to face the possibility that my father was a bigamist, and all three of us are technically illegitimate.

How the hell am I supposed to tell my mother? Or my brother and sister?

I can’t.

They can’t know anything until we have more information. No one can know anything.

There’s still something I can’t figure out for the life of me. Why the hell would Renee Rango wait until now to push the paternity suit, and why hasn’t she gone public with the fact that she was married to my father?

It makes absolutely no sense to me. Her motive has to be money, but her actions don’t add up.

What the fuck did you do, Dad? The question has circled my brain a hundred times today, and I’m still no closer to coming up with an answer.

After another hour of attempting to be productive, I finally give up. I’m fucking useless tonight, and I recognize when it’s time to quit.

I shut down my laptop and slide it into my briefcase. Even though I won’t touch it again before morning, I won’t risk leaving it here.

That’s how much I don’t trust my own brother, especially now.

When I walk out the door of the office, all I want is oblivion for one night so I can forget about what I learned this afternoon. I want to pretend for a few more hours that everything I thought I knew about my family hasn’t shifted on its axis.

And I know exactly how I’d like to achieve that oblivion—with Whitney in my bed.

I’d give every dollar in my bank account to have her.

I laugh at the thought. Leave it to me to fall for the one woman I could never buy.