But I learned an important lesson tonight. Don’t trust anyone in the Gable family.

Thirty-Five

Lincoln

Present day

“Security just removed a reporter from the VIP floor,” McKinley says when I answer the phone.

“What?”

“You heard me. Whitney called it in. The woman was escorted off the premises.”

I bolt from my chair and head for the door to my office. “Is she okay? Was she upset?”

“I haven’t talked to her yet, brother dearest, only security. I imagine she wasn’t thrilled, and neither am I. I don’t know how the woman got through, but I’m going to find out.”

“Fuck. I’m on my way over.”

“Make sure you come in the back way; the front gates are a circus today. Before it was just press, but now there’s a mob of angry fans out there with signs about Whitney. Someone definitely leaked that she’s here.”

“Shit. We’re going to have to call in more help. If angry fans are here now . . .”

“They’ll be all over town before long. I’m worried they’ll try to vandalize Jackie Gable’s house, so I’m sending more people over there too.”

“Good idea.”

I hang up with my sister and use my private exit to leave the office. I don’t give a damn about the meetings and calls I’m going to miss this afternoon. They can be rescheduled. My only concern is Whitney—and the promise I broke.

I told her she’d be safe. I promised her she wouldn’t have to worry because no one could get to her.

The ten minutes it takes me to drive, get through security, and get up to her room is ten minutes too long.

I knock on the door and wait, but there’s no answer. I knock again.

“Blue, it’s me. I’m so sorry.”

The bolt turns, and she opens the door. Her dark hair is wet, and she’s wrapped in a hotel robe.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I ask her as she steps away from the door so I can enter.

“I handled it.”

I want to shake her when she shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“You shouldn’t have had to handle it. Someone got to you, after I promised you were safe here.”

Whitney swings her hair over her shoulder, and droplets splatter my shirt. “I don’t think you get it. This isn’t something you can make go away. People will always hunt down a story, and right now, that’s me. You can’t promise me that no bad things are going to happen, Lincoln. That’s not how life works.”

“How am I going to prove to you that you can trust me if I can’t even follow through on that?” I step toward her and wrap my hands around the terrycloth covering her upper arms.

Whitney’s blue gaze meets mine. “I should probably take a page out of the Riscoff family playbook and not trust anyone. Blood included.”

“Please don’t. You’re better than that. Better than us.”

She laughs. “I can’t believe you said that with a straight face.”