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  “She showed up at my door, and we argued, as always. But in the midst of it, I realized something, and that is why we’re here today.” Calix shifted his gaze to Wilcox. “You were here with my father before I was born.”

  Wilcox inclined his head.

  “What do you remember of it?”

  “Well, sir …” Wilcox folded his hands in his lap. “There isn’t much to remember really. He married suddenly. Story was all over the news and a lot of speculation about who she was.”

  “Who?” Calix asked.

  Wilcox nodded. “She came out of nowhere … seemed like it, at least. Next thing, he announces she’s pregnant. They hadn’t been together three months. Of course, rumors were swirling, but he was the boss, so nobody wanted to vocalize them.”

  “What kind of rumors?” Atlas asked.

  Wilcox squirmed, uncomfortable.

  “Tell the truth,” Calix said. “You’re safe. I promise you that.”

  “Yes, sir …” Wilcox inhaled. “Some said he married her because she was pregnant.”

  Because? Calix leaned back in his chair, his heartbeat pounding hard.

  “Is there any proof?” Atlas met Calix’s uncertain gaze.

  “No. He was born nine months later, which quashed the rumors,” Wilcox replied, nodding toward Calix. “Plus, she was sick the whole time, bedridden, your father said …” He switched his gaze, “and unable to leave home. No one saw her at all until you were born, and then, it was like she’d been set free. She waltzed around, doing things and going places, as if she’d been caged. There was no sight of you, except in pictures with the nanny.”

  That described his entire upbringing—he and the nanny together while his mother ran around town, his dad avoiding him for the most part. It was as though he didn’t belong.

  “Thank you, Wilcox,” Calix said evenly. “You’ll find your time compensated generously.”

  “That’s kind of you.” Wilcox bowed at the waist and made his way out, shutting the door behind him.

  Calix leaned his neck onto the seat back. “Flynn said something yesterday that made me think. She pointed out my mother had no legal control. I’ve known this since taking my father’s position. But my mother’s always run things, and I allowed it, thinking that was my duty to her.” He raised his head and stared at Atlas. “In arguing with her yesterday, I realized she’d used my father’s death to have what he’d never give her … power. He left everything to me. Her name is nowhere, except in one paragraph that says she should be provided for. She has no investiture at Steele Enterprises; her name isn’t on the bank account. Why?”

  “My father says they didn’t get along.”

  Calix bit the inside of his cheek. “You asked him?”

  “In a round about way. He said it was common knowledge they didn’t get along. He had very little contact with your father, but he mentioned once seeing him at a charity function … He was surprised your father even came, but that’s beside my point. He said he overheard him remark that he’d rather spend no money at all than give it to her.”

  Calix’s entire life opened before him with that statement, a dozen small remarks his dad had said during their infrequent time together.

  No, she won’t buy that, not for any price.

  Over my dead body will she spend one dime of my cash.

  I told her to do without.

  Always in reference to his mom and money. He’d tempered his own spending as a result. I’ll save it for you, he’d said once. You’ll know what to do with it.

  “He trusted me,” Calix said. “Why have I been so blind?”

  Atlas crossed his ankle over his knee. “We see what we want to see. I did for many years. Meghan forced me to reevaluate things. Looks like Flynn’s doing the same.”

  Calix felt a goofy smile rise on his face and heard Atlas’s answering chuckle, but couldn’t respond to either one for the sudden thickness of his tongue. He forced himself to relax and concentrate on the conversation.

  “I want to know how much she’s been spending,” he said. “Not because I regret the amount, but because I have a feeling it will provide answers to the questions I have left. Like, who is she? And who am I?”

  “I can put my accountants on it,” Atlas remarked. “To keep things quiet.”

  “That’d be helpful. I appreciate it.”

  “As to who you are …” Atlas pointed toward the portrait of Calix on the wall. “You are Calix Steele. Took you too long to realize it.”

  “Put on your best dress. I’m taking you out.”

  Flynn clutched the phone to her ear with both hands, a smile on her face. “Out?”

  “Somewhere fancy. I have something important to tell you and know exactly where I want to be to do it.”

  “O-okay. Half an hour?”

  “Sounds good.”

  She disconnected and dashed up the stairs into her apartment, flinging open the armoire. Something fancy. Wasn’t often she dressed up, so her choices were limited, but to blow the mind of Calix Steele, there really was only one option. She plucked a white sleeve dress from the back and held it up to her. She’d bought it on a whim, feeling especially girly that day, but had never worn it because … well … it showed every curve. It was the kind of outfit that drew attention and frankly, she’d felt foolish afterward. Her job was beneath a car’s hood, not prancing around picking up men. So it’d hung there, unused.

  Now, however, it seemed fortunate because she was going out to dinner with Calix Steele, the richest single male in the state, probably the U.S., and he wanted her to dress up. So dress up she did, softly curling her hair, carefully applying her makeup, and donning a pair of strappy silver heels. She stood before the mirror later and turned in a slow circle, unable to believe it was her reflected there.

  Her stomach twirled, and she mashed her hand to it.

  This dress sent signals. It preached all the things she generally stood against. Was that really wise? On the other hand, she only lived once. When would she ever have an opportunity like this again? They’d grown close, become great friends. Who was to say it would ever go further?

  Who was to say it wouldn’t?

  Not liking that question, Flynn muffled it and set it aside. A knock from down below caused her to leap in place. Her nerves heightened, she made her way to the stairs and steadied herself, one hand on the wall. “I’m coming,” she shouted.

  Each step seemed huge, like crossing the Grand Canyon, and the distance to the bottom fathoms deep. She paused halfway to gather herself then, determination setting in, swayed down the remaining few feet.

  Calix looked up when she emerged and on his face was written exactly what she’d known she’d see. This Flynn was the girl he’d wanted, the one he’d pictured in his head. He approached and took her hand. “You’re amazingly beautiful,” he said, his voice low.

  Her cheeks warmed, and a tingle shot along her arm into her hand. Their fingers slid together.

  “You’re amazingly handsome,” she replied.

  He was always handsome, but he’d dressed up, expensive suit and tie, thousand dollar shoes. Every hair was in place. In her eyes, he didn’t have a flaw.

  “I pale in comparison.”

  He offered his arm, and she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, following him outside. She was surprised at the limo waiting in the drive. “Really?” She glanced across at him.

  “For appearances,” he said. “I actually hate the dumb things, but we can’t show up in my father’s old Cadillac, not there. And I have to warn you …” He paused in speaking to help her into the back.

  A man in a limo driver’s suit shut the door on them both.

  “People are going to stare, especially your way, and probably talk. You have to pretend you don’t see it.”

  “So this is my showing.”

  His lips pursed. “This is us on a date, you as the most important person in my life. Don’t doubt my motive.”

  “I … I didn’t meant
it that way,” Flynn said. “But I figure if people will talk then you aren’t embarrassed by me.”

  He brushed his fingers across the back of her hand and tipped it into his palm. Raising it to his lips, he kissed it. His breath was warm, his gaze intent. “I am honored to be seen with you.”

  Honored.

  The night spun around her, something from a dream. Glitz and glamour on an incredible level. Between the food, the wine, though she tried to temper the amount, and the attention, come the end of the meal, she was unwilling to let it all go. Aware he hadn’t told her whatever he’d planned, she suggested they go somewhere and walk. He took her to the Promenade. She’d been there before, but never when the night seemed so bright and never with someone she adored.

  It melted over her, adoration. He was the most unbelievable man, and she couldn’t get enough. She worked her way closer, drinking in his every glance, and found herself wedged against him tight, his arms warm around her.

  “So what’s this news?” she asked.

  His chest rose and fell with his next breath. “I’m finally the head of Steele Enterprises.”

  Flynn pulled her head back. “Weren’t you already?”

  “In name but not influence. This time it’s for real. I’ve relegated my mother to where she belongs and will run things my way from here on.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’m proud of you.”

  “You’re the reason I did it,” he said. “Flynn, I …” His hand rose to her cheek. “I’m falling in love with you.”

  To hear him say that spun her into the clouds. Her head light, her heart in her throat, she pressed tighter against him. He shifted, his hands falling to a place in the small of her back, and it became clear how he felt. She turned her head upwards, her future at that moment standing at a crossroads.

  There was always a choice. Her father had taught her that. He’d say, Flynn, you can go left or right, but both are forward. You can’t go in reverse. And he was right. But left and right were two entirely different avenues. Sometimes they were right and wrong, taking you one place or another. Sometimes they were simply alternate routes to the same destination. Wisdom came in knowing which was which.

  But with him this close, her life held seemingly in the palm of his hand, she couldn’t see past the haze fallen around her to choose. Or maybe, like so many others, she didn’t want to see.

  “It’s late,” she said. “Take me home.”

  If he questioned her motive, he didn’t express it, but walked them back to the limo. Not until they pulled into the drive did things become clear.

  “You’re dismissed,” he said. “Send me a car in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dismissed. Her pulse fluttered. Because he wasn’t leaving. Apprehensive, she led him inside. He followed her up the stairs into her apartment, but her hand on the light switch, laid his over top. He dipped his mouth toward hers.

  What began as a brush ignited a flame. She pushed his jacket from his shoulders, tugging his shirt from his pants, in a desperation borne of heat and desire. He was finely made, firm and toned beneath her fingers, his strength fitted perfectly to the curve of her breasts and thighs, and the bed sized exactly for their lovemaking, for the giving of him to her and her to him. In a breath, a gasp, a moment of bliss that culminated, fevered between them.

  Pasted to his chest, their limbs entangled, she gazed down at him and knew there’d be no going back. She’d chosen her direction and whether right or wrong now had to walk it.

  Their mouths met again, his tongue dancing alongside hers, and the heat just completed reignited again. Consumed by it, she gave in, uncertain of the results, but unable to resist the choice.

  Flynn’s cheek stuck to his chest, their skin moist with shared heat, and her hair fell glorious all around him. Calix tightened his grip on her shoulders, aware of every beautiful curve, her rounded hips, gentle valleys. She made figure eights around his naval with her fingertips.

  “Atlas is like a father to you,” she said.

  Surprised by the topic, he craned his neck to see her.

  She upturned her chin. “You never thought of that?”

  He shook his head.

  “You look up to him,” she continued, “seek his approval.”

  That was true, and going back much further than she would know. He’d met Atlas at a rowing regatta when he was a freshman in college, and they’d clicked from the start. Perhaps because of the money at first, but as time went on, over far more than that. Time and time again, he’d gone to him for advice, and Atlas, without batting an eye, had given it.

  “He’s different now,” Calix replied. “With Meghan.”

  “How so?”

  “He’s always been confident, but now it’s as if he knows why. He was a playboy. I guess you know that.”

  She nodded, the motion scrubbing her cheek on his chest. “You didn’t like it?”

  “No, but it was his life and who was I to judge? I’d seen too much of that … judgment … to participate in it. Upper society is all about appearances, who wears what, who sleeps with whom, what he or she purchased, most of it based on the opinions of others.”

  “That isn’t limited to upper society,” she said. “People always think they can fix someone else.”

  Calix didn’t reply, sunken into his thoughts. He’d done the same, only there it’d been personal. He judged himself, and not fairly. That was the main thing. You could watch your own behavior. That was positive most of the time. But he’d punished himself and that was different.

  “Do you have regrets?” he asked. This worried him. He’d wanted to make love to her, been almost unable to stop, but her having regrets would be too much. Atlas wouldn’t like what they’d done, not that he wouldn’t understand it, but he had morals now. Did this one act with Flynn mean he himself didn’t? He wouldn’t have questioned it before. After all, not like people didn’t do this every day.

  She rose up on one elbow, gazing down at him. “It takes two,” she said softly. “I was here, as well.”

  Was that a yes or a no? Tired of questioning himself, he didn’t and embraced her instead. Whatever the consequences, this night altered their relationship forever. Part of him was happy, the other part terrified. He wouldn’t tell her that either. His troubles, his guilt, was his to bear. He’d spare her.

  “Go to sleep,” he said, kissing her cheek.

  She snuggled tight and within minutes had nodded off, and he lay there listening.

  With a nod at Earl, Flynn climbed in her partially restored Malibu, and reversed into the street. Her stomach heaved for the umpteenth time that morning. Breath held, she willed it calm and concentrated on driving. Mundane, repetitive tasks seemed to keep her mind off it. She’d done the books the day before mostly to think about numbers and not her growing knowledge of exactly what was going on. That, she’d tried to deny for the last six weeks.

  Taking a right onto the boulevard, she headed towards town.

  Six weeks and her with Calix almost every other night, her desire for him now insatiable, public knowledge the “Steele boy” was seeing “the auto mechanic girl” on every other gossip page. None of that mattered to her, who said what, how much reality was twisted to satisfy the news, not when she knew the truth in her heart. Not when what they’d done had resulted in this.

  “Left on Mullholland, then left on Kennedy,” she said, quoting the directions. She tapped the brakes, pulling into a wide, paved lot and parked beneath a clearly-printed sign. Bellamy and Barnes Dermatology. “Dermatology.” Not the reason she was here. That was bigger and scary and life-changing, and the first person she wanted to tell was the only woman who’d understand.

  Flynn pushed through the glass door and stepped up to the counter. The receptionist, a young girl with short, red hair, smiled up at her. “I need to see Dr. Bellamy,” Flynn said.

  The receptionist glanced at her computer screen. “Do you have an appointment, ma’am?”

 
Flynn’s palms dampened. “No. But if you could tell her Flynn’s here ….”

  “Flynn?”

  Hearing Meghan’s voice, Flynn turned, and the floor tilted. She tightened her grip on the counter.

  “Are you well? You look ...” Whatever else Meghan was going to say, she didn’t. She took Flynn’s elbow instead and led her down the hall and into an exam room. She shut the door.

  The tears came then. Flynn bowed over her lap and sobbed until she had nothing left.

  Meghan stroked her back gently. “What is it?” she asked.

  Flynn pulled herself upright, her vision blurred, and let the words fall out. “I’m pregnant.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Helen and Evander Bellamy’s house was a modern and sleek homage to concrete, glass, and steel standing in direct contrast to the mansion Atlas lived in. Calix exited his SUV, pausing briefly to eye the pool jetting through the center of the house, the made his way to the door.

  Atlas answered, motioning him inside. “Welcome to the palace¸” he said, jokingly.

  It was rather palatial in a size sort of way, the entrance itself seeming to stretch to the heavens. However, the décor was comfortable and understated given their wealth.

  “My dad’s in his office.”

  Atlas had told him the day before of his father’s knowledge of his request. It’d been necessary to tell him, given the time it took searching. He’d actually been supportive. Calix was unsure why, but had chosen not to question it since Atlas didn’t seem concerned.

  The door to the office led into what was exactly like the Bellamy mansion miles away, evidence enough of his father’s taste as opposed to his mother’s. That she’d managed to take over the design of every room but this one was significant and gave Calix another revelation. Like father like son. Atlas was enamored of Meghan and his father of his mother. It was clear.

  “Calix Steele, welcome.” Evander stood and offered his hand, clasping Calix’s in a firm shake. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

  A moment passed with everyone settling in, then Evander leaned back, tenting his fingers. “First, let me say our accountants have used the utmost discretion. That you’ve allowed us to comb through your banking is a serious thing and we respect that.”