Page 3

SINCLAIR

“So we got juice, muffins, and milk. And that was a good call on the coffee beans. Dad hates running out.”

Monty wags his tail as he looks at me with shiny, dark brown eyes. I crouch and rub his ear.

“You’re such a handsome boy,” I coo, earning myself a lick on the face.

How anyone can not like the Chinese Crested breed baffles me.

He’s so cute with his sporadic patches of hair.

And it means that he likes wearing the sweaters I get for him because they keep his hairless tummy clean and warm.

Dad got him for me as a surprise the day after the funeral. Monty’s been by my side ever since.

“And it’s going to be your birthday soon. You need to give me some ideas on what flavor cake you’d like this year, okay? The doggy bakery you like gets busy, you know.”

He stares at me, his tail wagging. I scoop him up under one arm, nuzzling the top of his head.

“Let’s see how they are, then I’ll take you to the park,” I say as I juggle the bag I’m holding in my other hand and ring the bell of my father’s penthouse.

He opens the door, the silver-flecked stubble on his jaw catching the light. He smiles when he sees me. He’s dressed for work in a shirt and suit pants, and Halliday is behind him in a sweater and yoga pants, her cheeks flushed.

“Oh good, you do both look better.” I hand the bag of groceries to my father and walk straight inside, depositing Monty on the polished wood floor. He makes a beeline for Halliday, dancing around in front of her as she bends and fusses him.

She looks up from beneath her platinum blonde hair and catches my eye.

I smile, my heart swelling. She’s thirty, seven years older than me, and we’ve become friends.

People have commented on the fact she’s twenty years younger than my father and they’re having a baby together.

But I don’t give a shit what people say, or what garbage the press like to spin.

She gave my father something no one else could.

Not me, Sullivan, his granddaughter, Molly, Uncle Mal, his friends.

She gave him a reason to keep living. Not going through the motions of it each day like he was doing, but really live.

She gave him love. And now she’s giving our whole family a new baby to love.

“There are some bridal magazines in that bag too. I thought we could take a look?”

“Sure, that would be amazing. Come on through, we just ate, but did you want some breakfast?” Halliday offers.

“No, thanks. I won’t stay long, just an hour,” I reply as I walk through into the open kitchen and living area, Monty trotting behind me.

I head over to the large marble breakfast bar and sit on one of the stools. Halliday sits next to me as my father fixes me a coffee.

“I was thinking of white flowers for the wedding,” I muse, reaching into the bag I brought that my father placed on the counter and pulling out a stack of magazines. “Maybe orchids? Or something delicate.”

“Sounds good.” Halliday smiles as I place a magazine on the counter in front of her, opened to a double page spread about bouquets.

“I saw these and thought of you. These ones are made from pearls and things. But you can have one made from anything you like, even crystals.”

Her voice lifts. “Crystals?”

“Yeah.”

She bites her lower lip and looks back at the page, her face glowing. She covered my father’s office with crystals the day she arrived, claiming they all have different properties for helping us. I knew she’d like the idea of an alternative bouquet.

“Of course, you need to make sure it isn’t too heavy. Although I guess you’ll be able to rest it on…” I survey her flat stomach. “I wonder how big your bump will be on the day.”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll be showing. It’s still going to be a few months until we get married,” Halliday says.

Dad slides a mug of fresh coffee toward me. The bell chimes, and he mutters something about them being popular this morning as he heads off to answer it.

“I can’t believe I get to have baby cuddles again. It feels so long since Molly was tiny enough to hold in one arm.” I grin, clasping my hands in front of my face as I think of my niece. “You know I’m going to spoil you,” I say to Halliday’s stomach.

She laughs as the room fills with suits.

“You look much better. You must have had a good sleep last night,” Uncle Mal says to Halliday as he walks over and stands beside the counter.

Sullivan heads straight for my coffee mug, lifting it up and taking a gulp. I huff at him.

“I need it more than you, Sis, believe me,” he grunts.

I look at the two of them, then at the dark, looming hulk in a suit, broader than any other man in the room, who is standing further away, near the back wall.

“We were talking about weddings before you all interrupted. What are you all doing here with faces like that?” My question is aimed at all three of them and their matching sour expressions, but my eyes remain fixed on just one of them.

“We need to talk about business,” Denver says, his dark eyes boring into mine.

“Ugh. And it couldn’t wait?”

I rub my temples as Sullivan drinks the rest of my coffee and places the empty mug down with a thud.

“It’s regarding what we were talking about with Killian and Jenson,” Denver tells Dad.

I lift my gaze, my interest piqued at the mention of the other two members of our family’s security team. Whatever they're discussing must be important.

“Go on,” my father says.

“He’s in New York. Killian tracked him on a flight yesterday. We looked over the past two years. He hasn’t been back here until now.”

“I know some people who could make him disappear,” Uncle Mal says, his eyes flicking toward me and Halliday before he seals his lips like he’s regretting admitting such a thing in front of us. But this is my family. I’m not stupid. I know they’ll go to any lengths to protect one another.

It’s what Beauforts do. They stick together.

The men exchange looks and words as Halliday looks at me, puzzled.

“Who?” I interrupt them all. “Stop being so cryptic. They made an arrest over the club fire, so who the hell are you talking about?”

“Neil.” My father sighs.

My stomach drops. It’s a name I wish I’d never heard.

One that created nothing but questions. We found all the evidence of their affair after Mom died.

I’ll never be able to ask her why she did it to Dad.

Why her first love was more important to her than all of us.

Why she would risk everything for a man who left her heartbroken when he left her decades ago.

“Why are you keeping tabs on the man Mom had an affair with?” I ask.

“He was there the day we lost them. He couldn’t have started the fire but… I want you all to be extra alert.”

My father’s words blur as blood rushes in my ears. I thought it was all behind us. I prayed that we could finally move on if we could accept that it was a freak accident, and we will never know how that fire started that stole them both from us.

The past won’t give up its hold over us.

“… trackers in your phones so I can see your location at all times.” Denver’s deep voice swims into focus.

“Like hell you will!” I snap.

Everyone’s eyes turn to me.

“Sinclair, we’re all going to be doing this. And for the time being, I’d prefer you call one of us if you need any rides at night. I don’t want you out driving alone after dark,” Dad says.

I look around for support but only Uncle Mal looks like he feels like shit as my privacy and freedom is revoked.

Driving in Lenny is the only place, apart from my apartment, where I’m safe from prying eyes.

Where I have some control over my life. The press is all over me everywhere I go.

It comes with the territory of being a well-known model.

I’m grateful for my career, but I wasn’t even allowed to grieve in private.

I avoid everyone’s eyes, sickness washing over me as I picture Lenny’s white crystals strewn across the dirty sidewalk.

“Seriously? You damaged your car again?” Sullivan says.

I could slap my brother for having this uncanny knack for knowing when I’m hiding something. And for usually being correct about what that something is.

“No! God, you always want to blame me.” I zone out and flick through a magazine, trying to focus on a page of tulle gowns instead of the accusing tone my brother’s words have taken on. “It wasn’t my fault. I thought I’d parked in a safe spot,” I mumble.

“What are you talking about?” Sullivan asks.

“It’s not that much damage. The shop said they’ll fix it.”

Sullivan scowls, making irritation burst up my spine like tiny bubbles popping. If he’d seen Lenny like that, then he’d know I don’t want to talk about it.

“It was vandalized, okay? Someone scraped it and wrote ‘Beaufort Bitch’ across the windscreen.” I leave out telling him about the ‘gift’ they left me on the hood.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Halliday asks.

“I’m fine, thanks. It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing,” Sullivan barks. “Jesus, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because you always overreact, like you are now,” I snap.

“No one’s ever done anything like that before, Sinclair,” Mal adds. “We’re just looking out for you.”

Dad studies me as I fold my arms and wish I could turn invisible so my family can’t psycho-analyze me. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

I sigh. “They’ve never damaged my car before. Usually they just leave a note under the wiper.”

“Fucking hell,” Sullivan hisses, turning away.

“What kind of notes?” Mal asks.

I shrug. “Just ones saying I should watch my back. Or that I’m not as special as everyone thinks I am. Stuff like that.”

I look around the room at the stunned faces. This is exactly why I haven’t told anyone about the notes. They started recently and they’re only pranks. I should have kept my mouth shut.

“I get nice ones too,” I add, so they don’t worry. “Someone left me a flower and told me I nailed the runway last week.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dad rasps.

“It’s fine, Dad. It’s?—”

“It’s not fine,” he barks.

The air in the room grows thick and the side of my face heats where a pair of stormy green eyes are burning into it.

“Denver?” my father says. “From now until we work out who’s been sending these threats and find out what Neil is doing here, you’re with Sinclair.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“What? What does ‘ with me’ mean?” I shout, despite it being futile. Once my father makes a decision, that’s it.

“It means he’s your personal bodyguard as of now. You don’t go anywhere without him.”

I fly out of my seat. “No!”

“Yes.”

“Dad, not him. Please, I’ll take Killian or Jenson… but not him.”

I plead with my eyes. But it’s useless.

“Denver’s the best we have,” he says.

“It’ll be like being babysat by a gorilla. He barely talks, just grunts. At least Killian’s interesting, and Jenson’s fun.”

“You’ve got Denver.”

“My life is over.” I blow out a defeated breath. I’ll have to find a way to ditch him. There’s no way I want him going everywhere with me. No way in hell.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Sullivan says.

I throw him the stink eye as I scoop Monty off the floor and kiss his head. “I’m so sorry. I know this means you’re stuck with him too,” I whisper.

“Monty too. No one will touch a single one of the few hairs he does have while you’re both under my protection.”

Determined green irises burn into mine as I lift my gaze.

“You’ll protect him as much as you will me?”

The green flares like he doesn’t appreciate his ability being put under question.

“Yes.”

I narrow my eyes. I’m still going to ditch him. But knowing he’s willing to look after Monty makes my dislike for him thaw half a degree.

“Fine.”

He stares back, unfazed, as my father’s voice rings out around the room with a finality in it that I feel all the way to my toes.

“I trust you with my life. Now I’m trusting you with my daughter.”