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"I see," Robert said.

"What do you see, exactly?"

He sighed. "What do you want from me? I'm not married to her anymore. I thought that one of the benefits of my divorce was that I was excused from your crazy family's drama."

"I still consider you a friend, Robert. And the administrator mentioned your name."

"We are friends. As a result, I'm comfortable telling you that I have nothing to say on the matter. I have to go."

"Talk soon?"

"Do we have to?"

"Until I get the answers I'm looking for, I'm keeping your number at the top of my contact list."

"Great." His voice was grim.

"Love the enthusiasm. I get that a lot."

"I'll bet." He hung up before I could bother him further. I drained my glass and headed back to bed. My sister was going to get a surprise, and most unwelcome, visit from her little brother tomorrow.

My driver intercepted Serena when she left her office to get sushi. Her "office" was really just her townhouse, from which she shopped online and organized cocktail parties. He motioned toward the car, and she stuck her head in, scowling. "Ugh, what do you want?"

I patted the seat beside me. "I just want to take you to lunch."

She groaned but slid in. "So it beg

ins. Your full-of-shit fest."

"Come on now," I said. "You're about to hurt my feelings."

"We both know you have no feelings."

"You wound me." I gave her a fake pout.

"Jesus." She rolled her eyes. "Being married's made you even more of an asshole."

"Enough," I said, already tired of pretending to be nice. "I picked you up for a reason."

Serena gave me a satisfied smile. "Of course you did."

"I spoke to Robert last night."

Her eyes almost popped out of her head. A master of disguise, she recovered quickly, composing her face and picking an invisible speck of lint off her black jumpsuit. "Oh, really? How is good old Robert?"

"Why don't you tell me, Serena?"

She gave me an ugly look. "Are you really buying me lunch?"

"Only if I have to."

"You have to. I was headed to O Ya."

O Ya was the most exclusive Japanese restaurant in the city. "Are they open for lunch?"

She shrugged with fake nonchalance. "For certain customers."

We drove through the Leather District, and Ian let us out in front of the restaurant. The stunning hostess kissed my sister on both cheeks and immediately seated us in a sleek booth. For a restaurant that stated on its website that it was only open for dinner, O Ya had a pretty full lunch crowd of Boston's beautiful people.

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