"I’m here to do a job, Alistair. You’re the one who's making it personal." I finally sat up. “I am going to end you. Plain and simple. And you will remember the day you could have helped me and chose not to.”

  As Alistair strode out of my office scowling, my phone rang.

  "Garett, mate, tell me you’ve got something." I pinched the bridge of my nose as I stared out the window.

  My investigator cleared his throat. "I'm still working on the flash drive. There’s a lot on there."

  "Look, the flash drive is secondary. What I want is any info you have on the trust."

  "I'll need some time, but I'm digging. So far, there’s nothing like what we were looking for. No history of harassment complaints. From what I have so far, it looks like he left the hands-on stuff for photo ops and that’s it. But I’ll keep looking."

  My gut twisted. There had to be something I could use. There was no way Alistair was a boy scout. I was not wrong about this. "Have you found anything at all? We’re sort of running against a clock here."

  "There is something, but give me a day to make the figures work. It looks like your boy has been cooking books for the trust."

  "You're shitting me."

  "No. I'm not. It's negligible, and the money skimmed from accounts isn't enough that they would notice, but the only one looking at the accounts as a whole is Alistair, so he's probably been doing it for years."

  "Any idea where the money is going?"

  “That’s the thing. It matches some information I pulled off the flash drive. He owes money to Pushka, part of the Russian mob."

  I whistled low. I'd only heard about them in terms of the news and maybe some whispered gossip from Nick, Lex's friend. His father ran many of the seedier clubs in London, including strip clubs. No doubt he occasionally rubbed elbows with the Russian gangs. "That's some fucked-up trouble to court."

  "Tell me about it. I'll have something definite to look at tomorrow."

  "Thanks, mate."

  "If there's something to find, I'll find it."

  Xander

  "Xander, were you ever planning on telling me?"

  Shit. I knew I'd regret answering the phone when I had so much work to do. "Mum, hi. Care to tell me how I’ve disappointed you this time?"

  There was a beat of silence. "I wish you wouldn't say it like that. You’re not a disappointment. I'm so proud of what you've accomplished."

  Damn it. I rubbed my chest, hoping the feeling that lingered there would go away eventually. Ever since meeting Imani, a whole host of feelings had worked their way into creases of my soul that I’d never thought about before. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Just a long day so far. What’s the problem?"

  "Were you going to tell me about your girlfriend? A friend of mine mentioned it at a game of squash, and I had no idea what to say to her."

  Shit, bugger, fuck.

  The goddamn OK Magazine photos. I'd meant to give her a call for a heads-up, then, as with everything else, like me being completely unable to keep my hands off of Imani, I forgot. "Listen, I'm sorry you were blindsided. But it's not like that."

  I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell her. I wasn’t in the mood for lectures, and I sure as hell didn't have the time for them.

  "Then what’s it like? The magazine said you'd been dating her secretly for months. If you have someone special, Xander, I just want to meet her, that's all. I want to know about your life. Meet who’s in your life."

  I gritted my teeth. Up until Imani, there was no one in my life I'd ever take around my mother. Mostly because they were all throwaways. Every last one of them. And class wasn't exactly one of my usual requirements. Hell, a brain didn't usually factor high on my list either. Come to think of it, I'd never given any consideration to the kind of woman I'd bring around my mother, ever.

  "She's a… friend. She went with me to the interview in Paris."

  "Oh, so she's not your girlfriend."

  Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?

  We slept in the same bed. A place I intended to keep Imani as long as possible. But I knew from what she’d said that she didn’t trust me to stick. Fuck, I didn't trust myself to stick. But I wanted to maybe be that guy. I just needed more time to convince her that I could be worth sticking for. If she was staying, she'd eventually meet my mother.

  "It's complicated, Mum. She’s—" What, I was going to talk to her about women now? "Different."

  "Well, from those grainy photos, I could see she's certainly beautiful. She looks a lot like Abbie, actually."

  I swallowed hard and dodged the question. "Yeah, she is. She's just a little hard to pin down sometimes." Before I knew it, the words flowed out easily. Who knew, maybe my mother could help me shed a little light. "She’s complicated and funny. But there's a part of her she guards like a feral animal. Every time I get near it, she stabs back with something pointy and deadly."

  "Well, women are mysterious creatures. But sweetheart—and please don't take this the wrong way—you have a bit of a reputation. She might be protecting herself so that you don't hurt her. Keeping you deliberately at arm’s length."

  That sounded about right. "How do I get her to stop? I don’t like it."

  Her laugh rang clear on the line. "You really don’t know anything about love, do you?"

  Lex had essentially said the same thing. "Apparently not."

  "You can try being vulnerable and honest with her. Guard her feelings like you would guard your own. If something terrifies her, you make sure she never has to face that fear alone. Don’t do that thing where you swoop in to fix it or change it. She won’t thank you for it."

  Hadn't I tried that very thing? It hadn’t earned me her favor. "And if she won’t share what her dark and scaries are?"

  "Then, my beloved, you try patience."

  Patience. Now where the hell could I go to buy some of that?

  7

  Xander

  A slice of harsh light pierced the darkness of my bedroom, and I cowered under the bed. I'd taken to sleeping there because it was safer. Sometimes Silas would think I was sleeping in my brother's room and would leave me be. Or he would tire of looking for me in all the rooms of the house. Or even better, he worried about my mother finding me so he would leave me alone.

  But tonight wasn't one of those nights. "Where are you, boy? I know you're in here. I already checked the security footage. I know you haven’t left your room all night. Come on out. If you make me look for you, I'm going to hurt you." Silas had been drinking, and his words slurred together as the smell of port drew closer and closer.

  Under the bed, I shivered and tried to make myself as small as humanly possible. Go away, just go away, please God, just go away.

  Silas pushed the door open farther, letting the room flood with light, and in the hallway, I could see Alistair.

  The older teenager was quiet and mostly sullen, having no time for his future stepbrothers, but I hoped that maybe, just maybe he would help. Maybe he knew the kind of monster his father was.

  From my vantage point, I willed Alistair to look at me, silently begging, pleading. I shifted slightly so my future brother could see me more clearly. But when our gazes locked, Alistair merely stared at me. I mouthed the words, Help me.

  There was something in Alistair’s eyes that flickered, and I took a deep breath, thinking he would get one of the nannies or call someone, anyone to come help me.

  But instead, after what seemed like minutes merged into hours, Alistair walked in behind his father and closed the door behind them. Fear snaked up my spine. Large, meaty hands clamped around my ankles and tugged me out from under the bed.

  I thrashed. A distant part of my mind knew I was still in the throes of a horrific nightmare, but the other part did not. I felt like I was suffocating, unable to get air as I choked.

  "Xander. Wake up!"

  That voice. Soft, feminine but insistent. Calming. My consciousness gravitated toward that voice. I would be safe if I could just get to it. If I could grasp it, someone would take care of me. Someone would love me. All I had to do was get there and I could escape my nightmare.

  Someone pushed me hard on the shoulder and yanked me out of the horror. Sweat clung to my skin, matting my hair, and I scooted back on my king-size bed with the sheets tangled around my legs. I dragged in several deep breaths as I struggled for oxygen and took in my surroundings. The room was dark, save the moonlight from the massive window overlooking London. I was in my room. I had access to two exits. I was safe. I didn’t need to be afraid. You are safe. No, not yet, the only way to be safe was with Alistair in a body bag.

  At the foot of the bed sat a wide-eyed Imani. She'd wrapped a sheet around her and watched me warily.

  My stomach rolled and I swallowed hard. I wouldn't be sick. Not in front of her. I wasn't going to lose control. Not like that.

  I scrubbed a hand down my face and tried to get myself under control. Eventually, my breathing evened out, and I slid my glance in her direction. "You all right? Did I hurt you?"

  Imani shook her head slowly. She'd tucked her hair into a ponytail, but several of the curls around her face were making an escape. "Xander, that was a hell of a nightmare."

  I was quick to apologize. "I'm sorry. They're unpredictable." I scanned her body for signs of injury, even as my mind made its silent plea. Please don’t leave me.

  "I'm not hurt. I'm more worried that you hurt yourself."

  "I'm fine." The response was automatic and tripped off my tongue because I'd been telling myself the same lie for years.

  She nodded, even as her gaze slid to the faint bruises on my knuckles. "Just like you were the night you got those?"

  I balled my hand up into a fist before rotating it so she couldn’t see the bruising. "That was—" What could I say? The violence of the other night was probably triggering something inside me. We still hadn’t talked about it really. I hadn’t wanted to.

  "Nothing, yeah, I know." Her eyes were sad. "I'm only trying to help. But I'm not sure I can if you won’t talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I want to know how to help you."

  I itched to touch her, to hold her and not let go. But there was no way I could form the words to tell her that I needed her.

  "Should I call Lex? Somebody else?"

  "No." It came out harsher than I intended. "I'm sorry. I just—I don't need anyone's help."

  She shook her head. "Don’t push me away." She reached her hand out to me, and all I wanted to do was reach out and take it. But if I did, I'd have to open the door. It would have to come out, and I didn’t want her running. She's going to leave if you don't tell her. Might as well cut yourself open and bleed.

  My body still vibrating, I reached for her outstretched hand and pulled her close. She kissed me softly. "I'm here if you need me. Just tell me what's happening, and we can deal with it."

  "Okay, just let me get us some clothes. I'll never be able to get through it if you're naked." More like I wanted some shielding in case she ran from me. Standing awkwardly, I snagged two t-shirts and boxers from my bureau. When we'd both donned the clothes, I sat on the edge of my bed. Imani scooted over and sat next to me.

  "When I was a kid, my parents divorced. I was about five or so when they got divorced the first time. Very small. Mum was pretty lonely. She's the one with the royal blood so she had her flurry of social obligations, but she was mostly lonely and obsessed with finding us the right kind of father figure. Dad's a bit of a twat."

  She kept quiet but still reached out and took my hand in hers, offering me silent support.

  “She finally found someone. Silas McMahon. On the outside he seemed to adore Mum. He was attentive and wanted to spend time with us. He had a son from a previous marriage, but he was older. A teenager, and Silas hadn’t really been around for his childhood much, as he lived with his mother. It seemed like an instant happy family at first. The more Mum trusted him, the more she left him with us alone."

  Next to me, I could feel her stop breathing as she tightly held my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut. I could do this. I could.

  "Late at night, Silas used to sneak into my room and…" The bile rose in my throat and I forced myself to swallow it down. "He touched me. Told me I liked it. That it was my fault it was happening. That I made him do it. When I resisted, he beat me."

  "Oh my God, Xander."

  I sniffed. "He told me that if I told my mother, then he'd hurt her. I didn’t find out until much later that he'd also been hurting Alexi. But he had a preference for blonds. Lex was too dark for him. I was really tow-headed as a child." I ran a hand through my now dark-as-sin locks.

  "No one helped us. Mum was blissfully unaware, and I've never forgiven her for it. At the same time, I can’t blame her. I was wild as a kid, even before Silas came into her life. Around him, I was quiet, withdrawn. She thought he just had a way with me." I snorted. "Little did she know."

  "Someone must have known, tried to help you. You were just a baby."

  "Alistair knew."

  Her shocked gasp filled the silence. "He was the teenager?"

  I nodded and ran a hand through my hair again. "There was one night when I was hiding under the bed. I could see Alistair outside in the hallway, and I begged him to help me. To call somebody, to do something."

  "What did he do?"

  "He came in and he—" My voice broke as the memory threatened to choke me. "He held me down for his father."

  Imani stared at me, agog, her eyes wide with horror.

  “One night when Mum had traveled, Lex stayed in my room with me. My little brother, protecting me. Can you imagine?"

  "He loved you."

  "Yeah, he did what I couldn't. Silas came for me that night, but Lex was there. You should have seen him. So small and so brave. At six years old, he told Silas that he was going to tell. That he was going to call the police and Silas would go to jail forever. I thought the tosser was going to kill him."

  "Oh my God."

  "The whole time, Lex was shouting at me to run, and I did. I can still hear his little feet behind me. I ran past our stairwell, and I was desperately looking for a room that would lock where we could hide. Then all of a sudden, I didn’t hear Lex's feet. Just a curse, then several loud thuds in a row. When I turned back to go for Lex, I found him at the top of the stairs. He'd pushed Silas down."

  "Fuck."

  I scrubbed a hand down my face. "He saved my life. My brother had done what I couldn't do. He might seem quiet and affable, but he's a wall of strength, that one."

  "You're strong too, Xander. None of what happened was your fault."

  I laughed mirthlessly. "Maybe not, but my choices were on me. I told my mum and everyone that I had pushed him down the stairs. Of course, my father started his PR campaign. I don’t think he ever believed I’d done it. There was something so steely about Alexi back then. I refused to let them send him to some boarding school far away, though. He was six, for the love of God. Instead, I went. To Dexter Academy. It was for troubled children, but very exclusive. I had my fill of shrinks and therapy while I was there."

  "Did any of it help?"

  "Some. A little. Not enough." I rubbed my jaw. "The one good thing that came out of that place, was that it gave me an outlet. It's where I first picked up a camera."

  "Xander, you still turned out great. You can’t keep torturing yourself over something that happened when you were a little boy."

  I laughed. "You think I'm great, do you?" I gestured at my body. "This is the result of Alexi saving me again. If you’d seen me five years ago, you wouldn’t be so eager to hold my hand."

  "Stop it, Xander."

  "It's the truth. There wasn’t a drug I wouldn't try, no reckless thing I wouldn't do. No dubious woman I wouldn’t sleep with. Screw that. Women."

  "What happened? Why did you spiral after all your therapy?"

  "I met a girl at uni. Christie. She was beautiful. So smart. You know, the kind of girl who kept me on my toes. I was going to marry her. She seemed like the answer to my prayers. But then I had a chance meeting with a grown-up Alistair. Let’s just say it didn’t go well."

  "I hate him," she whispered. Ice dripped from each word, and there was a fierce sincerity inscribed in her eyes that told me she meant each one.

  "I’d never forgotten that night. And I lost it. I threatened to kill him, to expose what he was, what he'd done. He took it all in stride. The next day I caught him coming out of Christie’s flat. He’d told her about my past. That I’d killed his father. Dad had covered it all up, and as far as the public was concerned, Silas had fallen after a night of drinking. But Alistair knew at least my version of what happened. And he told Christie."

  "Please tell me she believed you."

  I shook my head, the pain too hard to relive. "No. She left me." I inhaled sharply. "That's when the spiral started. My anchor was gone, and I blew a fuse."

  "Xander, you were hurting."

  Fuck. Why was she being so understanding? I scrubbed my face, unsure of what to tell her, how to tell her. "My chance at normalcy was gone, and I lost myself in women. In sex. You said it yourself; it’s how I fix problems. There were hundreds of women. Sometimes two or three or more at a time."

  She blinked at me rapidly but didn't let go of my hand.

  "I was pretty much a sex addict. But the kicker of it was, the more women I slept with, the more disconnected I became.” Just saying the words made me feel ill. “It was like I was trying to prove that what happened to me didn’t affect me. But it colored everything. My relationship with my mother, with Lex. The women I slept with. Eventually, even sleeping with those women got tedious.”

  I gave a mirthless chuckle. “The irony was, because of my name and this face, more women approached me. All kinds of women. I wanted them all. I had to prove something. But I couldn’t bring myself to care about any of them. Eventually, I couldn’t even come anymore. Sex had become this habit. A way to numb the gaping hole in my chest."