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The way she looked at me after?

No.

I don’t have time for this.

Manus is talking, offering to have our team run the data again, run more surveillance, find someone else. He doesn’t understand that it’s too fucking late. Because he doesn’t knowwhyI had him seeking an ideal candidate for some secret—and probably unethical-sounding—job.

I just cut him off. “Never mention this again.”

“Of course.”

“I’m meeting with my sister. You won’t be needed.”

I step off the elevator, alone, letting it close behind me.

The thing about Manus that I appreciate the most is that he does what he’s told—with efficiency, and without questioning my orders. Security personnel who come from a military background tend to perform like that.

Which is why I hire them.

When I stalk into Savannah’s office, she seems surprised to see me outside my usual habitat. I normally don’t stray far frommy office or my house. This whole Darla/Quinn mess is really fucking with the order of things.

“What a rare and unexpected pleasure,” she remarks. “My twin brother, storming into my office.”

“About as rare as you being in your office.”

“I’m always in my office,” she says grimly.

She is. But not in this office. These days, she practically lives in her new office over at the resort.

We’re a block from the water in Coal Harbour, and through the wall of windows looking northeast, I can see the waterfront property where the Vance Bayshore resort sprawls, mid-renovation, just two blocks away. “Can’t get away from it, can you?” I remark. I know she can see it clearly from the window of her penthouse apartment upstairs, too. None of my siblings are married yet, but my sister is definitely married to her work.

“Down time is overrated,” she mutters.

I couldn’t agree more.

I pace over to the massive vision board on her wall, where she or her assistant have tacked up hundreds of images, everything from bits of maps and blueprints, to sales forecasts and newspaper clippings, to color schemes and fabric samples. As Vance Industries’ Chief Revenue Officer, Savannah’s talents lie in sales, marketing, and revenue generation, but she recently took a step back from that role to focus on the resort’s opening, and the gala that will launch it.

I don’t think any of us knew how much the completion of the resort—Granddad’s final labor of love—would take over our lives, especially hers and Graysen’s.

“So what brings you up from the depths?” she asks me. “Don’t tell me I submitted my lunch receipts too late.”

“I heard you were looking for me.”

“I was. Tried to meet with you yesterday. And this morning. Your team is incredibly adept at concealing your whereabouts and dodging my calls.”

“Good. Then they’re doing their jobs.”

I don’t know why she’s been trying to reach me, but hearing whatever she wants to say—hopefully not that she can’t wait for me and the chatty cake baker she met at dinner the other night to make “lots of kids”—couldn’t be worse than being alone in my head right now.

“You lied to us,” she says, shocking me out of the rhythm: I was starting to zone out in front of her vision board, picking at the diamond bracelet, spelling out the word with my thumbnail.B-E-A-U-T-I?—

“About what?” A second after it comes out of my mouth, I realize that’s not the most convincing denial.

“Her name isn’t Darla.”

Oh. That lie.

—F-U-L.