“Auntie Dair.” She’s pointing to the spread the caterers have laid on the dining table.
Of course, he had to be here, and I had to agree to cake. Would he think I was coming to talk to him? Was I the reason he was here? Maybe it was a fluke.
Don’t be stupid. Sterling didn’t show up today, of all days, out of the blue.
Maybe he worked with my father. Stranger things have happened. Except not really. My father might have worked with the devil himself to close a deal, but somehow I doubt Sterling would get in bed with a MacLaine.
Or rather back in bed with one. Not after everything that happened.
Then again, we were adults now. He probably never even thought of me after he left Valmont. And he is obviously successful judging from that suit. Still, I can’t help but wonder where he’s been the last five years.
While I’ve been trying to convince myself that this is the world’s most unlikely coincidence, Ellie has been attempting to pull me toward the desserts. No doubt she’s spotted the chocolate cake.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I spy my brother, Malcolm. Marching her to him, I interrupt his conversation, which sounded like business talk anyway. Maybe politics. I’m not sure which topic is worse at a funeral but discussing either is like a MacLaine. “She wants cake.”
He doesn’t bother to look at me—or her. “Get her some.” Then he turns back to his discussion.
“She’s your daughter,” I say icily.
His answering glare is somehow even colder. I hate seeing my green eyes staring back at me from his face. Are mine that empty? Malcolm has my father’s dark hair and brutal looks, but we both have our mother’s eyes. Ellie has gone completely silent at our feet. She isn’t tugging at my hand anymore. I glance to her and hate myself. I tell myself she’s little—that she doesn’t understand what’s going on—but she gets more than I want to admit. A rock would pick up on the tension between me and my brother, but that’s not the worst of it. It’s become a game to pass Ellie off like we’re playing hot potato. It’s been worse with the funeral plans. I couldn’t tell Malcolm or Ginny no when they needed an extra hand after Daddy got sick. That was a year ago, and I’ve been playing part-time nanny ever since. That’s why Ellie usually lands with me. I suspected it made her mother feel better to dump her with family instead of a stranger. Her baby lips trembles and I realize she understands so much more than either her parents or I give her credit for.
“Let’s get cake,” I say in a strained voice. “Apparently, Daddy doesn’t want any.”
I keep my sights on the table and lead her there, pretending to be completely absorbed in every request she makes—partially due to guilt, but mostly in an attempt to ignore my proximity to Sterling. It doesn’t matter. My body vibrates with barely suppressed awareness. I can feel my memories of him. They dance across the back of my neck, rippling through me and raising goosebumps along my skin. I don’t even realize I’m picking up one of each item Ellie has pointed to until the plate is heaped with sugary confections. A sugar high might teach her parents not to dump her with me.
I don’t have to look over to know Sterling is watching me now. I feel his gaze sweeping over me, penetrating my act, past the wall I’ve built so carefully over the last five years.
Ginny appears, casting a disapproving look at Ellie’s plate. She looks even more stressed than when she left. That’s par for the course with her. Her anxiety ratchets up a notch every minute of the day. Even the small pharmacy worth of pills her doctor prescribes isn’t helping anymore. She wasn’t always that way. Times change. Not always for the better.
I leave Ellie with her now that she’s been placated with sweets. Commanding myself to look ahead, I manage to avoid Sterling. I want to look. I want to move closer. I won’t let myself do either.
But today isn’t one for escapes. Cyrus Eaton enters the front room, slinking through the crowd. He also moves like Sterling, graceful and serpentine, his dark eyes sweeping the room for his prey. When he spots me, I half expect him to pounce. His orders come from his girlfriend and my best friend, Poppy. She’s stuck in Paris, so she sent him to guard me. If she only knew.
I made a mistake. Several, if I’m being honest. Who hasn’t?
Cyrus is in front of me. Sterling behind me. I have to brave one of them. For a moment, I consider climbing through a window. They’re certainly large enough, but I’d probably set off an alarm. I have to make a decision. I’ve never been very good at that.
I want to know why Sterling is here. I want to know where he’s been. I have a million questions and a few accusations for him. But getting too close is more dangerous than knowing the truth. That’s exactly why I move toward Cyrus. Better the beast you know. I have no idea who Sterling Ford is anymore. And Cyrus? For better or worse, I know exactly who he is. He never left. Like most of the people in my life he’s been a fixture in my world. Like Poppy and our friends. Like my brother and his family. Even my father.
But Sterling? There is a morbid symmetry to his reappearance. He’d been here when my life started falling apart. Then he’d pieced it back together.
I suspect he hasn’t come to save me twice.
3
Sterling
Indecision grips her features and she pauses long enough for me to study her. Adair MacLaine was a slip of a girl when we first met. The girl was pretty. The woman is stunning. Her once
