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We’d barely gotten started on the finer points of our five-year plan regarding the charity when Francis returned with our coffees. Damian nearly leaped to receive his, immediately slurping at the dark liquid.
“You know, we have a coffee maker in the penthouse,” Trace informed him. Damian just grunted in response.
“Sometimes, that’s too much work with a hangover,” I pointed out.
Damian grunted in my direction then.
“Anything else, boys?” Francis asked once his tray had been cleared of our beverages.
“We’re good. Thank you, Francis.” I sent him a cheesy smile.
Before Francis had shut the door, one of our receptionists, Kai, poked her head in. “Guys, I have a call for the three of you that you should know about.”
“We’re in a meeting,” Trace said, using his no-nonsense tone that was very effective at getting people to shut up. He turned away from her, facing us at the table again. Francis tried to shut the door behind him, but Kai’s arm shot out, blocking it.
“I think you’ll want to hear this,” she said, her voice firm.
I glanced between Damian and Trace before nodding her way. “What is it?”
“There’s a very concerning visitor downstairs,” she said.
“Do we need to call security?” I asked.
Her brows drew together, looking at each one of us in turn before she said, “He claims he’s the youngest Fairchild brother.”
Confusion spread through the room.
“Thereisno youngest Fairchild brother,” I corrected her. “Or rather, you’re looking at him. Me.”
“He said there’s evidence. And that the three of you would be very interested in meeting someone who is blood-related to Trace.”
That got our attention. I cleared my throat, leaning against the edge of the table as I found the same spooked confusion in my brothers’ eyes. This couldn’t be real.
Trace was the first to react. He nodded at Kai. “Send him up.”
THE END
