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“I’m here as your brother, not for work.” He glares right back.

I don’t know what it is with the Quinn men and scowling, but if there is someone who rivals my non-verbal threats, it’s definitely my sibling.

“I will go visit Mom. I’m bringing Saar to meet her this weekend.” I assume the reason for his visit.

“Good for you. Mom will be happy.” He pulls his phone from his inside breast pocket.

I guess my assumption was wrong. “What’s going on?”

He taps a few times on his screen and turns it to me. Reluctantly—there are still projections to plow through and Saar waiting, hopefully—I round my desk and sit across from him.

“What am I looking at?”

“Kendra is getting married.”

Fuck. I read the announcement, and sure enough, Declan’s ex-wife is getting hitched with some oil heir in Texas. “So? Good for her.”

In three short years, the woman was married twice after Declan granted her divorce. Both times to some loser, costing Declan money. I guess she upgraded her lifestyle.

“She reached out. She wants shared custody.”

“No fucking way. She can’t abandon the babies and then waltz back into their life.” I put his phone down.

“I agree with that. Every reasonable judge would probably agree with that. The problem is, now she has money to fight me on that.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’d even consider the arrangement, because they need a mother. But she abandoned them twice before.”

He’s been blaming himself for this way more than he should. The credit goes to that heartless woman. “At least they don’t remember it.”

“But they will this time.”

“Fuck, bro, can I help somehow?”

“I would ask you to be my character witness, but I’m not sure your notoriety would work in my favor.” He smirks. “You can distract me with a glass of your Macallan.”

“Only one. I want to get home.” I drop his phone to the table and walk to my liquor cabinet.

“So you’re not sleeping in the office?”

“It’s complicated.” I pour us both an inch.

“Of course it is. Nothing is ever easy with you.”

I twist the cork and re-shelve the bottle. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a stubborn bastard. When you set your mind to something, there is no reasoning with you.”

I’m a reasonable man. If the other party is reasonable.

I return to the table. “You don’t mind when my focus makes you money.”

“Fair enough, but even with my poor record, I don’t think your power-tripping tendencies are good for a relationship. You’re like Dad.” He takes the glass from me.

I take a sip. I hate when Declan is right. The man doesn’t speak much, but when he does, he hits the bull’s-eye every single time.

“He wasn’t my biological father.”