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“I don’t think it can be called ‘shacked up’ if we’re married,” Violet corrected her.
Harper frowned in confusion. “You’re living together now?”
“If you’d pay attention to something other than your hotel once in a while,” Scarlett began, “you’d know that Preston showed up here and threatened to sue JT and Violet for fraud if their marriage wasn’t real.”
“He can’t possibly have a case,” Harper said.
Scarlett smirked. “Not anymore.”
“What I mean,” Harper continued, shooting Scarlett a look, “is there’s nothing in the corporate bylaws insisting the marriage must be real, just legal.”
“We were concerned that by taking us to court, he could prevent me from voting my shares at the upcoming shareholder meeting and remain CEO.”
A line formed between Harper’s brows. “I guess that’s possible. I just don’t know how likely.”
“We didn’t want to take the chance.”
“And because of that your relationship has become physical?”
Violet resisted looking Scarlett’s way for fear that her sister’s expression would make her laugh. Harper was a little too literal and that often kept her from finding the humor in a situation.
“Not exactly...”
“He’s crazy about her and vice versa,” Scarlett explained. “Unlike you and Ashton where
you make each other crazy.”
“I have every right to be crazy,” Harper insisted. “The restaurant is behind schedule because he hasn’t been here to make decisions. And when he does make decisions, it puts us even more behind schedule because he wants to change things.”
Scarlett gave her sister a doubting look. “To say nothing of the fact that he’s gorgeous and sexy and your DVR is full of his television series.”
Harper’s scowl would have been more intimidating if she’d been able to meet Scarlett’s gaze. “It seems to me that you and Logan were in that drive-each-other-crazy place less than a month ago.”
Scarlett and her security-expert fiancé were so madly in love these days it was hard to remember just how much they used to antagonize each other
“That was then. Now we just drive each other crazy with passion.”
Harper’s response was a rude noise. Violet chuckled. She loved her sisters. To outsiders, it sometimes appeared as if the three of them didn’t get along, but in fact for three women who’d not known each other until their grandfather introduced them five years ago, they were as tight as siblings who’d grown up together. Maybe even tighter because there were no childhood battle scars.
“Putting aside all the crazy talk for a second,” Violet said, turning to Scarlett, “you said you had something important you wanted to discuss with me.”
After some meaningful eye contact with Harper, Scarlett went to her desk and brought back two files. She held one suspended in Violet’s direction and said, “I know I’ve told you a little about the files I inherited from Tiberius. This one is about Preston Rhodes.”
Curious, Violet accepted the file and quickly scanned it. The contents included old newspaper clippings about a flash flood drowning in the desert near Las Vegas as well as a grainy group photo of seven rough-looking young men. Below that was a piece of paper with a woman’s name and contact information on it. Charity Rimes.
“What am I looking at?” Violet asked.
“Grady and I think the man we know as Preston Rhodes is actually a local Las Vegas kid who was supposed to have drowned during a flash flood back in 1970.”
Violet glanced at Harper and saw in her sister’s expression the same skepticism she was feeling. “So, the newspaper report got it wrong? It wasn’t this George Barnes guy, but Preston Rhodes. How is that possible?”
“I think JT’s father—whose real name I think is George Barnes—switched identities with Preston Rhodes after Preston was killed in the flash flood.”
“That’s a pretty wild theory,” Harper interjected.
“Why would he do that?” Violet wanted to know.
“From what information Tiberius had gathered about George Barnes, he’d been a juvenile delinquent on his way to a bad end. Preston Rhodes had a bright future ahead of him. A rich kid with no family. He’d left California, where he’d grown up, to take a road trip to the East Coast where he would be attending college. Think of how easy it would have been for George to simply step into Preston’s shoes.”
