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CHAPTER 1
Brandon
I should not be at this party.
Why do I torture myself by showing up wherever I knowsheis going to be?
Despite my efforts to appear as if I don’t care about anything or anyone, I’ve always possessed a soft spot for the Wells family. Asher Wells was a boarding school mate turned close friend, whose family graciously “adopted” me as one of their own, since the family I come from—using that term loosely—never gave a damn about me.
Arriving at the Wells estate is always bittersweet since it accompanies memories of coming to the family home on school breaks, followed by a dagger to the heart at the fact that Asher knew what it was like to feel welcome, and I have never truly known that feeling.
“Thought I’d find you over here,” a familiar voice comes from my right.
Asher Wells.My friend the chief financial officer and the only other person I know with a mind as sharp as my own. He’s the closest I’ll get to having a brother.
He hands me a flute of champagne. Gold accents marking the slim glass fit with tonight’s party theme. Attendees were asked to pair their ensembles with a gold accessory. My golden Breitling is as close as I get to accessorizing. The gold and white design adorning the tables make the party feel as if we’ve stepped into a wintery jewelry store. All the women in attendance are wearing gold jewelry, and it glints like the chandeliers scattered throughout the tent. Though one hardly remembers one’s in a tent because, of course, the Wells family sprang for the best event planners.
“No matter what, I look for you on the fringes of any social gathering, silently brooding,” Asher says, lips quirking at the jest.
I can’t hold back my grin. “We’ve been friends for too long. Or have I become predictable?”
Asher snorts. “Maybe now, in your old age, you’ve become predictable?—”
I hold a hand up. “Need I remind you we’re the same age?”
Asher pays me no mind. “I knew you when you weren’t predictable in the slightest. Couldn’t begin to guess what hell you’d raise next.”
I smile as I take a sip of the golden liquid. Asher is right. Once I moved from London to the US to attend a prominent New England boarding school, I let being away from prying eyes and having no parental guidance lead to a bender that lasted for nearly a decade of my youth. I’m not proud of everyone I hurt, but those years are behind me.
Mostly.
Now, I spend my time letting my work dictate where I lay my head, enjoying the freedom of a single and unencumbered life.
I regard Asher in a nearly identical tuxedo to mine. As always, my more muscular frame fills out the tuxedo better. My friend has spent too many days behind a desk, preparing for world domination or some such. Though he’s only been able to conquer Wall Street with no stopping in sight.
Asher shifts his weight, clearing his throat before continuing. Those were his tells. You couldn’t work in my line of business and not quickly notice everyone’s tells. Whatever was coming next was proving difficult for him to broach. “Just say it, Ash.”
Meeting my gaze, our 6’1” heights identical, Asher takes a deep breath before continuing. “My family needs help, and you’re the only person I trust.”
The expression in my friend’s hazel eyes go from jovial to concerned, and in the muted light of candles scattered throughout the tent, I can see the faint dark circles under his eyes. Something has been weighing on him heavily.
“Anything for you,” I say.
Asher and his family were always there for me, even when I was much too young to appreciate it. At forty years old, I’ve concluded that loyal people aren’t common in this life, and you have to cherish the people you can count on.
“Someone is threatening Ava, and you’re the only person I can trust to keep her safe,” Asher finally says.
Hearinghername knocks the breath out of me.
Ava Wells.
Asher’s kid sister and the bane of my existence since she became of legal age.
Still, though she’s not officially mine, I don’t like the idea of anyone daring to make threats against her life.
“What kind of threats?” I ask when I’m able to keep my tone even. Masking my attraction to Ava is a lesson instealth. I wouldn’t act on my feelings, though I wanted to, and thought of doing so, too often.
Asher switches his flute back into his left hand. “I suspect there’s more than she’s telling us, but someone has been leaving notes near her apartment. And she’s getting text messages from an unknown number. I worry whoever is behind this will try something in person.”
