“She won’t turn her back on you. Neither will I. Just give this some time to die down.”

  Like Maxon’s, Clint’s response is perfectly rational. It’s smart, measured, and tactical, too.

  But this whole situation—and my phone now rattling endlessly—makes me rage.

  Still, I can’t be angry with my family. They could have dropped me altogether, abandoned me the way our biological father did. The way Hadley did. Instead, they’re sticking by me. I just need to be a big boy, deal with my disappointment, and make lemonade out of lemons.

  The burning for revenge that dimmed while I was with Corinne last night sparks to red-hot life again.

  “Yeah,” I assure him. “Just let me know when you and Bethany are ready to proceed.”

  “It won’t be long, just until things are quieter so our clients will be excited about the announcement. Holding off works in our favor, anyway. The lawyers haven’t quite finished with the paperwork yet. One is getting married next weekend, so this will give him more time. I’d rather have a good job than a rushed job.”

  More logic I can’t argue with. “Sure. I think I’ll work remotely today, unless you and Bethany have an objection.”

  “No, it’s probably wise. Besides, you’re a partner in all but name, man. You make your own decisions. And we’ll be in the office to cover things shortly. Just lie low today. And a word of advice? Avoid social media and shit stirrers like TMZ. Apparently they never heard that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

  Most are cowards hiding behind their keyboards, pretending they’re shining a light on society’s wrongs. It’s utter bullshit and I don’t need more negativity in my life. “Will do.”

  “Talk to you later.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “See you at Sunday brunch?” Clint, like Maxon, seems determined to make sure I still feel like part of the family.

  It’s nice to be wanted…but if it wasn’t for the happy accident of having Barclay Reed’s blood running through my veins, I’d have none of these people in my life. Other than my high school friends, I can’t think of a single person left who loves me for me.

  And now I sound like a pouting little bitch.

  “I’ll be there,” I assure Clint.

  We end the call. I resist the urge to hurl my phone against the wall—barely—and instead flop back on my bed to glare at the ceiling. Motherfucking Parker! Why won’t he get the hell out of my life? Oh, because he’s making a fortune off of bashing me and blaming me for his woes.

  It’s freaking early, and after so little sleep, I should feel exhausted. Weirdly, I don’t, especially after a masochistic peek at Twitter. Yeah, I swore I wouldn’t look, but I need to understand the bullshit I’m up against.

  It’s every bit as ugly as I suspected. Lots of comments about the apple not falling far from the tree since I’m just the latest in a string of Barclay Reed’s sharkish, money-hungry offspring. But I’m particularly vile because of how I abused and bullied poor Parker—totally unprovoked, of course—simply for malice.

  Some people have the nerve to suggest it’s a good thing my mother is dead because she’d be ashamed if she could see me now. Even more egregious comments suggest she must not have been much of a mother if she raised an asshole like me.

  Since I’ve long thought this platform is a cesspool of haters, I close it and peruse some popular financial sites and blogs. Unfortunately, the coverage about me there isn’t more positive. Oh, they included the fact that I seem to have the Reeds’ Midas touch in growing money, but that’s where the praise stops. Again, most drag my siblings through the mud with me, especially Bethany. I’ll give credit to the restrained few who point out that the media is only broadcasting one side of the story. But they’re waiting for me to comment. That’s not happening.

  I’m not giving the vultures a damn word to feed on.

  I have a better idea—one I’ve been crafting and honing all night.

  Palming my still-humming phone, I head downstairs and drive myself through a hard morning workout to give one last think through my possibilities. After a punishing hour, followed by a long shower, then coffee and eggs, I keep coming back to my immovable resolution. Parker is going down. And the plan that’s been swirling in my head since last night—the one I initially second-guessed as being too aggressive, high-handed, and cutthroat? It’s just become priority one.

  Smiling, I reach for my phone to set my plan in motion.

  Late that afternoon, I arrive at Corinne’s hotel with a hard heart, ready to drive an even harder bargain. I raise my fist to knock on her door—a different one than last night.

  Everything is in place.

  Sneaking around this thoroughly average resort makes me feel like a pariah. I’ve resorted to disguising myself in an LA Dodgers ball cap, an overlarge blue T-shirt, and a pair of shorts with flip-flops. Coupled with my aviators, I blend in with all the other tourists who have come to the island to kick back.

  But I’m ready to kick ass.

  Corinne opens the door, dressed in a vacation-approved sundress. I’ve seen a ton of these, especially since I moved to Maui.

  I’ve never seen one that made my jaw drop.

  It’s simple, pale yellow cotton with vivid pink and blue flowers and a flirty ruffle at the hem. But that’s where the garment’s resemblance to a typical sundress ends. The figure-hugging wraparound hangs just above mid-thigh—except where the two halves meet in the middle, mere inches below her pussy, exposing a long expanse of gorgeous legs. The straps perched on her shoulders are tied in thin, floppy bows. If I pluck on those strings and give a little tug, she’d be next to naked.

  The thought makes me instantly hard.

  Goddamn it, her body isn’t what I should be focused on.

  “Hi,” she murmurs. “I thought you were going to call.”

  I need her off guard. “Can I come in?”

  “Okay.” As she steps back, she fidgets like she’s nervous.

  She should be. I won’t take no for an answer.

  Corinne shuts the door behind me. “Nice disguise.”

  “I can’t go anywhere looking like me.”

  “Not unless you want a lot of attention.”

  “And I don’t. Were you hung over this morning?”

  “No. Water and ibuprofen did the trick. I won’t be drinking that much tonight—or for a long time.” Her smile is self-deprecating. “I guess you’re the reason the hotel suddenly decided to upgrade me to a suite last night?”

  “Your room was too small. You needed space to work. I made a phone call.”

  “Why?”

  Obviously, I need her cooperation if I’m going to dig out of this PR hole and get revenge. Despite that, and the fact she’s Parker’s sister, I can’t deny that I like her. She’s plucky, interesting, and sexy as fuck.

  “Why not?” I shrug. “Do you like it?”

  “Who wouldn’t like an ocean-view suite? I slept better last night without listening to that boiler grinding and sputtering. And I got a lot of work done today, since I had enough space to spread out and organize. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I came with a proposition. I think I’ve found a way we can help each other.”

  “Good.” She wanders toward the seating area. “How are you, you know, now that the movie is out?”

  Naturally, she’s read the bullshit press, too.

  “More pissed off than I was yesterday.”

  “And more determined than ever to have revenge?”

  “Do you blame me?”

  She sidesteps my question. “If loaning me money to help me succeed in spite of my brother isn’t enough retribution, what would be?”

  “I’d rather sit and talk about my idea.”

  “All right.” She perches in a tastefully floral chair in the sitting area with stunning views of the resort’s lush foliage, swimming pools, and the Pacific beyond.

  I choose the sofa beside her and waste no time. “Have your goals changed since you walked into my office yesterday morning?”

  “No. I can’t give up my business just because my brother thinks he knows better.”

  I’ve wondered a dozen times how Parker thinks she’s going to manage with the resources she has, but I doubt he’s thought through that. Or cares. He’s probably too busy with his Hollywood life and too convinced he’s right. “And I’ve got some business ventures in the works that could use positive press, so let’s help each other.”

  “How?”

  I reach into the pocket of my shorts, withdraw a small velvet box, and pop open the lid. “Say yes…and I’ll be your fake fiancé.”

  She gasps, her dark eyes going wide. “Are you crazy?”

  I shake my head. “Determined.”

  Her stare bounces from the three carats of princess-cut diamond I picked up an hour ago to my face. “Is that real?”

  “Yes. The jeweler merely lent it to me, so don’t lose it. I’d rather not have to cough up a hundred grand.”

  Corinne gapes at me. “I told you I was kidding when I said I needed a fiancé.”

  “You did, but it makes sense.”

  “What makes sense is a loan. I don’t need a scheme that merely might net me my inheritance.”

  “You’re underestimating how much Parker hates me. He’ll give you your inheritance to keep us from getting married. And in the meantime, the press and public will wonder how evil I can possibly be if Parker’s sister is planning to marry me.”

  She bites her lip like she’s thinking. It takes everything I have not to rush her. And not to kiss that rosy, lush mouth she keeps abusing with her teeth.

  “My brother might dig in his heels and wait us out, see if we’re pretending. He knows damn well we haven’t been dating. I haven’t dated anyone since Riley.” A sadness I don’t like crosses her face.

  Owen’s report says the guy is the son of a schoolteacher and a plumber. Corinne met him in college during summer break two years ago. While she was matriculating in San Diego, Riley attended NYU’s Stern School of Business, funded by scholarships and a mountain of student loans. He came to the West Coast with buddies to blow off some steam. The two met by chance in a restaurant and maintained a long-distance relationship for eleven and a half months. After graduation almost a year ago, Riley found a mid-level job at a decent brokerage, where he isn’t highly regarded and has a client list of modest suburban investors. He purchased an engagement ring with his first paycheck…then returned it a week later. Apparently, his phone call to Corinne the following day was his last.

  “Parker thinks you haven’t been seeing anyone for a while. Tell him we’ve been sneaking behind his back and that I proposed. We’re madly in love, so you said yes.”

  “He’s going to want proof of that.”

  I smile. “I was counting on it. We’ll lay the PDA on thick and—”

  “That’s not going to work. I’m leaving for LA in twenty-four hours.”

  “If you agree to this plan, you can’t.”

  “But I have a life and a business and—”

  “If you want to keep them, you’ll let me slide this ring on your finger and postpone your return to LA indefinitely.” When Corinne gears up for another objection, I cut her off. “Look at it this way, if we were actually engaged, if you truly pledged to spend the rest of your life with me, why would you be returning to Cali and leaving me behind? Unless it’s to pack up your apartment and move here—”

  “Why wouldn’t you move to LA?”

  “My business and my family are here, I bought a house as an investment last year, and it’s paradise. Why wouldn’t you move to Maui, where you’ll be farther away from your brother, making it harder for him to control you?”

  Her expression tells me she sees my point, but she’s still unconvinced. “I don’t see how this will work. I have orders to fulfill. Responsibilities. Where would I even stay? The crappy room I had was at the top of my budget. This one… I don’t even want to ask how much it costs.”

  I lean even closer. “Move in with me. I have a six-bedroom house. Pick one as your office. A bunch of my family have volunteered to pitch in to help you with things like customer service and packing up your orders. I’ll do your accounting and taxes. While we’re ‘engaged,’ you won’t have to grocery shop, cook, clean, or run a single errand. I’ll manage everything. You only have to make watch bands…and be seen with me.”

  Corinne gapes at me for so long, I’m sure she’s going to say no. She doesn’t. “You’re insane.”

  “Or hell-bent on not letting Parker win.”

  “He’ll be furious,” she warns.

  That’s icing on the cake. “Are you really prepared to give up your business because your brother will have a hissy?”

  “No. But you’re not the one he’ll yell at.”

  Oh, I’m sure I’ll hear from the little bastard, but that will be my pleasure. “You didn’t come all the way to Hawaii to ask me for help only to give up at the first sign of trouble, did you? When Parker withheld your inheritance, he didn’t seem to care much about your feelings. If you had wanted the money to party your way through Europe or to give to some internet scam, I could understand his decision to let you grow up before he turns you loose with millions of dollars. But you’ve been succeeding for four years. You’re ready to expand. What real reason does he have to hold you back, other than he doesn’t like your choice of jobs?”

  “My brother can be stubborn and annoying. His methods suck. But he wants what’s best for me.”

  Corinne sounds desperate to believe that Parker loves her and is merely guiding her to the best possible future. I get it, but she’s being naive. “He wants to control you.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “You’re completely free to say no and do whatever the hell you want. Would Parker give you that freedom? Besides, why should you have to go into debt to keep from pissing him off?”

  Corinne rises, paces. “I know you’re right, but I’m usually a pleaser and a peacekeeper. This means going to war with the very last member of my family.”

  “I’m suggesting that if you’re going after what you want, you should be prepared to do it as ruthlessly as he is. When you prove him wrong, he’ll come around. I doubt he wants to lose you, either.”

  “That’s a huge gamble.”

  “A lot of things in life are.”

  “I need to think about it. Give me an hour?”

  It isn’t the enthusiastic hell yes I wanted. But it’s not fuck off either.

  I pocket the ring and rise. “Sure. Tell you what. I’ll send a car for you at seven. If you want to talk about this more, get in the car and have dinner with me. If you don’t”—I shrug—“I wish you the best, princess.”

  By seven fifteen, I’m seated at the bar of a swanky restaurant on the beach, staring at the door. Thankfully, Maxon and Griff helped Duke Mason, the owner of this steakhouse, buy a new house a few months back, so they called in a favor. I’ve got a private room tucked in the back. Corinne and I will have total privacy to hash out our scheme, away from the prying ears and eyes of gossipmongers. I’ll need it because I suspect she’ll balk at some of my terms and conditions.

  If she shows at all.

  I glance at my watch again. Seven twenty. I’m getting antsy, sifting through my possibilities for recourse because I’m not giving up—on revenge or her.

  Across the room, a member of the host staff pulls the heavy door open and Corinne appears, the last of twilight backlighting her body.

  My thoughts stop. My cock gets hard.

  Since her dress is nearly the same color as her skin, she looks almost naked. The strapless ensemble gathers at her small waist with a knot of fabric off to one side, hugs her hips, clings to her luscious ass, then flares out again at mid-thigh with an elegant ruffle that shows off calves made even more graceful by her sexy slingbacks.

  Holy shit. Corinne turned my head the first time I laid eyes on her, but tonight not only did she come to talk, she came dressed to slay. I’ll have to stay on my A-game or she’ll derail my every train of thought—except the ones about sex.

  Dragging in a steadying breath, I stand, toss back the last of my scotch, then head in her direction as she scans the dining room.

  Our stares meet. My heart pounds as I hold out my hand. “I’m glad you came.”

  She takes it, looking me up and down with dark, unreadable eyes. “Your suit is a definite step up from the tacky tourist garb earlier.”

  This one is a favorite—pale gray with a black dress shirt and coordinating wingtips, no tie. I look put together and powerful but approachable. And I stay in shape so I wear my suits well. “You look incredible.”

  “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I came so we can discuss—”

  “Not here. Follow me.” I lead her through the open, casually elegant restaurant.

  When I reach our private room, the owner is waiting for me, hand outstretched. “Xavian?”

  I shake his in return. “Nice to meet you, Duke.”

  “Likewise. Your brothers said you can’t even get a moment’s peace for a simple date. They weren’t kidding.”

  People are staring. A few are even surreptitiously snapping pics on their phone. “Thank you for accommodating us on short notice. I appreciate it. For the record, don’t believe everything you hear about me.”

  “I’ve been around long enough to know that things are rarely what they seem. Besides, your brothers aren’t universally liked, but they’re respected. I get the feeling you’re cut from the same cloth.” He leads us in and closes the door behind us. “Ailani will be your server this evening. If you need anything at all, she’ll take care of it. Everyone else on staff has strict orders not to disturb you.”

  “If I can ever return the favor, let me know.”

  With a gracious nod, Duke disappears. The next few minutes are a flurry of activity. I ask for another scotch. Corinne opts for iced tea. Ailani pours us water while reciting the daily specials. I order a couple of appetizers.

  “I’ll be back with those shortly,” the server assures before she leaves.