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He shook his head. “Not a sister. A brother. Not Simone. Simon.”
“That’s impossible.” Kimble had given up the search at my request. I hadn’t had any new information in six months.
Simon took a step back. “I’ll take a blood test if that makes you feel any better. I’ll prove that I’m Lucien’s heir.”
It was then the honeymoon haze shattered. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you are not my brother. And you’re not an heir to anything in New Orleans.” I stared at him.
He nodded. “I was hoping it might be easier than this. It could be.”
“Well, whatever you were hoping, pack it up and get out of my building.”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry that’s how you feel right now. Maybe I should give you a few days. Think it over and then maybe we could have coffee. Dinner. Talk about our father.”
“By the time I get back to New Orleans I expect you to be gone. Is that understood?”
“So you’re leaving town?”
I was hesitant to share a single detail with him. “I have business. I always have business.”
“As do I.” He walked backward. “Nice meeting you, sis.” He tipped an imaginary hat in the air and disappeared on the elevator.
I leaned against my desk. Holy shit. Was it true? Had there been a son all along and not a daughter? My hands froze over my phone. I didn’t know whether to call Kimble or Knight. I didn’t know if I should cancel the honeymoon and take care of this crisis. How did I tell my husband I wasn’t getting on a jet with him to Paris?
I stared out the window. I didn’t know how to answer any of those questions until I knew what Simon Theroux was after.
