Page 54 of Boss of the Year

All our names. He always knew all our names.

“Good night, Marie.” He stepped aside. “I need a quick word with my brother.”

“I bet you do,” Daniel snarled from the wet bar, where he was already making himself another drink.

I edged around Lucas, who opened the door for me. Before leaving, however, I turned back to Daniel, who was still measuring out his scotch.

“Well, bye then,” I called out. “I’ll…”

What could I say? That I’d call from Brazil? That I’d see him in a month?

I waited a moment, thinking he might look up from his drink. Thinking he might come back, kiss me on the cheek, wish me a good trip, or tell me he’d miss me orsomething.

Lucas glanced between us and gave a heavy sigh before he took my hand and squeezed it briefly. Electrically. And then released it just as quickly.

“He’ll be in touch. I’ll see you in the morning, Marie.”

My name, in his deep timbre, hung in the air like a bell that had just been rung.

“Good night, Lucas.”

The door closed, and right after, there was a crash of glass hitting wood behind me.

I turned, but when the door didn’t open, I hurried away into the night.

12

INTERLUDE

The drawing room at Prideview had always been Winnifred Lyons’s domain. It was a shrine to old money and older taste, where everything from the Waterford crystal to the Aubusson carpet whispered of centuries-old refinement. At this hour, however, with their father long retired, and the staff dismissed for the night, it felt more like a war room to the two Lyons brothers than a sanctuary.

Lucas stood by the carved fireplace, one hand braced against the mantel as he watched his stepmother pour herself a brandy from the decanter. The amber liquid caught the lamplight, throwing fractured reflections across the Persian silk wallpaper.

He’d never noticed how much alcohol his family consumed daily, but over the last week, he’d found himself taking a silent tally. Wine with lunch. Pre-dinner cocktails. More wine with dinner, followed by port, sherry, or a harder digestif. Later, scotch, brandy, or something equally strong to numb the mind before bed.

“Lucas?” Winnifred nodded at the bar, a clear invitation.

Lucas found himself shaking his head. “Early morning.”

His stepmother shrugged her hanger-thin shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

“Going to start attending meetings, brother? Should we find you a sponsor?” Daniel sneered from where he sat on the long white divan, swirling his own glass of scotch.

It was the third Lucas had seen him consume that night, and that wasn’t counting the empty bottle Daniel had smashed in the boathouse.

He didn’t want to think about the fact that Daniel had probably put down nearly a fifth while walking around with Marie. Or what he might have done to her under the influence had Lucas not arrived when he did.

No, he really didn’t want to think about that. Mostly because he didn’t want to know what he might do to Daniel if he considered it for too long.

“No.” Lucas watched Daniel toss back half the drink in one go. “Though perhaps you should consider it. What’s that, number four or five tonight? Plus the bottle of wine you polished off at dinner?”

“Boys, please,” Winnifred hushed them as she settled into her favorite wingback chair. “He’s just having a little fun, Lucas. You know Daniel.”

That was the problem. Lucasdidknow his brother. Just like he knew exactly what he did with women in that godforsaken pool house on a near weekly basis since his brother had commandeered it last spring. What had been about to happen with Marie when he’d bashed in with all the grace of a bull.

He still didn’t understand his reaction. He had known all week about his brother’s plans to meet up with the pretty young chef in the conservatory. Had told himself every day that it didn’t fucking matter. But when he’d passed by the glass outbuilding to find it empty, something in him had snapped. He’d headedstraight for the pool house, knowing that’s where Daniel would have steered the her.

The idea of Marie, impossibly sweet, talented, innocent Marie, giving her body for the first time on a couch where countless women had spread their legs before her, to his brother, who would barely remember her name in the morning, had made Lucas’s blood boil to a vapor. He hadn’t even considered a reason for his interruption until he was already through the door.