“I will. Thank you.” Alex opened his top drawer and used his letter opener to slit the top of the envelope then pulled out a thick folder. Angeline Hemming was printed on the front, and it was held closed with rubber bands in both directions. There was a note clipped to the front.


Dear Mr. Avery,

Dr. Hemming has a flawless record, near-perfect credit, and impeccable credentials. Nothing stood out as a red flag, but I did include everything for your review. Small town girl from a poor family who excelled academically, she put herself through school with scholarships and a variety of jobs, none of them questionable. She is well respected professionally for her work in domestic abuse cases and active in some of the local charities that are relevant. She owns a condo less than two miles from your apartment downtown.

Alex’s eyes widened. That close? Maybe I’ve seen her somewhere.


The only photos that I was able to find were her high school yearbook. I’ve included the scans inside, but they’re kind of grainy. She’s been seeing a lawyer by the name of Kenneth Gant, but not much evidence of the relationship other than a couple of fundraisers they’ve attended together. He’s clean as a whistle, too, so I hope that is what you were looking for.

Her father still works as a janitor in Joplin, Missouri. I found her mother, as well, but there is nothing to substantiate that she is part of Dr. Hemming’s life at the present. She resides in Houston, Texas and has since remarried.

Regards,

J. Bancroft

Alex had just removed the letter and the rubber bands when the phone on his desk began to ring.

“Alex Avery,” he answered, and then flipped through some of the documents as his father’s voice came through the phone.

“Alex, you’re late. Can you come up now?” Charles Avery asked.

“Yeah, Dad. On my way. Unless we can put this off?” Alex asked hopefully.

His father laughed. “It won’t take long.”

“Dad, listen, I was going to meet Darian for a few drinks. I promised him I’d play racquetball this week and had to blow him off because of the Toronto trip.”

“You can’t give your old dad five minutes?”

“All right.” Alex wasn’t due to meet his friend for almost two hours but was exasperated that he had to delay looking in the folder in front of him. He sighed, closed it, and put it in his right hand desk drawer, then carefully locked his desk. “I’ll be up shortly.”

On the walk to the elevators, he searched his mind for what his father might want to discuss. The Wellington takeover was going well, he’d taken care of the situation in Toronto, and an offer of employment had been made for the replacement of the incompetent CFO in Munich. Not bad for a week’s work, so what in the hell could it be?

Charles’s office was two floors above, and Judy, his young assistant, smiled at Alex as he walked out of the elevator. She flushed and straightened her hair. Alex smiled at the obvious nerves he created in the girl. She was pretty, but a little shy. Light brown hair and slim figure. Not beautiful. Not memorable, but competent. He lifted his hand and pointed toward the door. Judy nodded and Alex walked into his father’s office, closing the door behind him.

Charles was on the phone, presumably with Alex’s mother, if the content of the conversation was anything to go by. Alex settled himself in one of the leather wingback chairs in front of his father’s huge antique desk and waited for the call to end. This office was a great deal more old-fashioned than his. The furniture was collectors’ items, and the walls were well-lined with Charles’s classic book collection. Alex’s own taste was more modern, more open, and a good deal less cluttered.

“Okay, darling. I’ll be home in an hour.” His father was dressed similarly to himself: expensive designer suit, custom-made Egyptian cotton shirt and silk tie, Italian leather shoes. They both looked like they stepped out of a GQ magazine and right into the corporate world. Alex released the button of his suit jacket as he waited. “Alex just came in. Yes, I’ll tell him.” Charles smiled and then replaced the phone into its cradle.

“Your mother said she expects you for dinner on Sunday. Cora loves Max, but she wants to see you, too.”

Alex rolled his eyes in mock aggravation and then joined his father’s laughter. “She sees me all the time. I suppose I can manage dinner, providing she doesn’t invite one of those simpering women from the country club.”

Charles’s eyebrows shot up and his face sobered. “Your mother just wants to see you happy, Alex. She thinks you need someone to take care of you, and you know how much she dislikes Whitney.”

Alex sighed. “Well, Whitney’s history, so that’s no longer a concern.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. We broke up a couple of weeks ago… old news. Why isn’t Mom on Cole’s ass? He’s so busy screwing around, his dick is about to fall off, so why am I the focus of every one of her matchmaking attempts?”

His father sighed and nodded in understanding. “Amazing you should bring up Cole, Alex. He’s what I wanted to talk to you about. He needs guidance. He seems a little out of control lately.”

Here we go again! Alex thought and ran an impatient hand through his full head of hair. “Not just lately. Why now? And, why am I always assigned with babysitting duty? ‘Out of control’ is Cole’s middle name, Dad.” Alex’s impatience with his older brother was clear and Charles’ brows dropped in a frown as he contemplated his next words carefully.

“You don’t give him enough responsibility.”

“That’s because I’m in charge of the bottom line. I don’t enjoy flushing millions down the toilet because you want to give Cole some leash, and I’m the one in the hot seat with the board of directors. He isn’t focused and you know it.”

Charles shook his head. “I know in the past it’s been a problem.”

“No shit, it’s been a problem,” Alex interrupted his father shortly. “I love Cole, but all he wants to do is show off and fuck around. You asked me to take responsibility and I have, so will you just let me do my job?”

“Alex. Please, just listen. I’m very proud of you. For both stepping up to take the helm and the incredible growth you’ve attained for the company.” Charles got up and went to the sideboard, pressed on the top, and the cabinet opened to reveal a complete wet bar. He pulled down a glass and filled it with two fingers of Chivas. He turned toward his son and offered it to him before pouring one for himself. “It’s much more than I or the board ever expected. You’ve done exceedingly well and so quickly.”

Alex accepted the glass and pulled at the knot of his tie, loosening it, and then reaching in and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “Thank you.”

“All I’m asking is that you help Cole. I want to put him in charge of something, even if it’s small. He feels useless.”

“Maybe because he is useless. He’s the epitome of lazy. Has he expressed interest in being productive or is this just another attempt to get him to get his head out of his ass?”

Charles eyed his youngest son as he considered his words carefully. “I think if we can figure out what motivates him, we’ll have better luck.”

“Ugh,” Alex groaned. “How the hell am I supposed to do that when he doesn’t even know? It’s just easier to run the company and give him money to screw off. Believe me; it will be more cost-effective in the long run. I’ll just put him on the payroll and have accounting direct deposit into his account.”

“Alex,” Charles said sternly, “he’s your brother, and you will help get him involved.”

“You can’t force Cole to get involved, even if I do agree… and being involved isn’t the same thing as being productive. Hell, who gives a shit about productive? I’ll settle for not destructive.”

“Like I said, find something he has an interest in.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed, and he ran a hand across the dark five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw.

“Okay, I’ll try to find a project that he can’t fuck up. A merger or something where we can’t help but make a shitload of money, but you realize that if I do that, it’s still me. He won’t learn a goddamn thing. Cole has no ambition to invest the time it takes to find deals like that or figure out which businesses are worth more in pieces, which to acquire, and which to leave on the table. It isn’t something someone learns overnight or without sincere interest!”

“Alex!” Charles retorted sharply. His son’s blatant honesty was one of his more prominent traits, and sometimes he would benefit from a little more tact in his delivery.

“What? You know I’m right, Dad. This business… it’s a gut feeling and research and seeing the big picture. It’s finesse. Cole lives in the moment. I can show him the processes and where to look, but he has to want to learn, and he has to be hungry. You may have to face it; he might not have what it takes. Why don’t you just put him in charge of procurement or something, for Christ’s sake? Let him order the fucking paper clips.” His full lips lifted in the start of a wry grin.

Charles put a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder and squeezed. He knew the expression on Alex’s face was teasing. “Thank you, Alex.”

“Can you promise me something, though?”

Charles nodded slightly. He knew his son and the way his mind worked—the two of them were so much alike. Alex always got the job done, could always be counted on, even if it meant putting his own life and needs on hold. “Sure, son.”