Millie

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

I closed my mouth with a snap. "It never occurred to me he had parents—living parents," I corrected when Alex's amusement morphed to confusion. "I guess I imagined he was a stray who showed up on your porch one day."

He snorted. "Close enough, I suppose. His mom died when he was four, and his dad was never around much after that. They definitely aren't close now. He and our—my dad—were best friends growing up and actually founded Reed Industries together. Well, it was RS Industries back then, but not long after... well, after, you know... things got bad between them. Dad bought Roman out, and they never spoke again as far as I know."

Poor Lochlan. I'd always thought not knowing who my parents were was terrible, but now I thought it might be worse to know and feel unwanted. It said a lot about John and Anna Reed that they embraced the son of their former friend despite their falling out, and it explained Lachlan's devotion toward the Reeds. They weren't close friends. They were truly family in his eyes.

"So, if things were so bad, why is Roman getting an invitation to Thanksgiving? A hand delivered one at that."

The cupholder between us vibrated, and I glanced down to see Alex's phone light up. A text message from someone named West, comprising nothing but suggestive emojis, filled the screen. Alex snatched it up and dropped it between his thighs. The pink tips of his ears were the only indication he'd read the message.

Clearing his throat, he answered my question. "Because my mother is determined to mend fences. She's also a bit diabolical, too. The first year she invited him, she bumped into him in a bodega, and he claimed it must have been lost in the mail. Ever since then, she has it hand delivered."

"Wow." I settled into the butter soft leather seats and stared out the windshield, a frown flattening my lips. "What is he like?"

Alex considered my question, then shrugged. "You might meet him and get to decide for yourself. I think he's an arrogant asshole, determined to always get his way. Cold. Domineering. A real shark. I don't know how he and my dad were ever close."

"Sounds like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," I muttered.

Then I amended that thought. Cold wasn't a descriptor I would use for Lochlan—at least not where our interactions were concerned. Every time he touched me, I saw a fire in his eyes. A need to consume me even as he hated that he wanted me. Almost as much as I hated that I wanted him.

Alex pulled into a parking garage, parked the car, and put his hand on my arm before I could get out. "You're wrong about him. What you're seeing isn't who he really is. Believe or not, the girls used to swoon over him in college because he was the sensitive one."

"Lies."

A wolfish grin spread across his face. "No, really. Though, it may have been something more along the lines of how sensitive he was to their needs."

"Stop," I groaned, covering my face—not because I was really embarrassed—but because I had no problems imagining exactly how those needs were met. And now I was about to meet his father with wet underwear. With the man who may or may not be my brother.

"I'm just saying. Once all this settles down, and we get the DNA results, and as long as you don't rob us blind, then he'll probably start acting like a sweetheart to you."

"That's a lot of conditions to be met, just to be treated with a little decency."

Or indecency. Because there was no doubt we would have screwed each other senseless already if the tiny obstacle of my identity wasn't in the way. I couldn't remember the last time I even wanted to have sex with someone before Lochlan, much less followed through on it, and my limited experiences had all been rather lackluster. If the man's dick was half as good as his fingers, it would ruin me for anyone else.

"Millie?"

"Sorry, I missed what you said."

"Your phone is ringing."

"Oh." I took it out of my purse, saw Marcus' name on the screen, and punched decline. "No one important."

I wasn't ready to talk to him. Not now. Maybe never.

"Here goes nothing," Alex said, typing in what I assumed to be a guest code to allow access to the penthouse.

The silver doors slid opened, and a harried looking housekeeper stopped dusting the black entryway table when we stepped out. Dropping the cloth, he straightened and held out a hand.

"That time again already?"

"Sorry, Jones. You know the rules. I have to put it in Mr. Sloane's hands myself, and I have it on good authority he's here right now."

Jones rolled his eyes. "The Mrs. Sloane doesn't know how to keep her fucking mouth shut."

"Mrs. Sloane?" Roman remarried? I wondered what kind of relationship Lochlan had with his stepmother if Alex was on speaking terms with the woman.

"Who is this?" Jones asked as a brusque voice repeated the question at the end of the hallway.

"Mr. Sloane," Alex called out, waving the envelope in the air as Roman approached, one hand shoved into his slacks' pocket, and the other wrapped around a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid. "Delivery."

"I'm much more interested in your guest," Roman said.

He sipped on his drink and studied me with hard eyes. Cold. That's what Alex had said in the car, and I felt it now, shivering a bit as the arctic blues swept over me from head to toe. There was nothing of his son in him except for the shape of his face and the straight line of his jaw.

"This is Millie Gordon. She's a new family friend."

"Is that what the young kids are calling it now days?" Roman joked snidely. "She looks familiar."

"She is standing right here and can be addressed directly."

"Feisty too. But really... there's something I can't put my finger on about her." He raised a single digit and rubbed his sharp chin, then tapped its center until his eyes lit up. "She's got a dimple just like John's and his eyes."

"Many people have dimples and brown eyes."

Alex put the envelope on the entryway table and stepped back, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding back toward the elevator. Tension lined his face and limbs, and the parting smile he tossed to Roman and Jones was tight.

"Best be going. I'll give my mother the usual regrets."

"Actually, no. I think this year I'll go."

Alex's fingers dug into my skin, and he whipped his head back toward the smirking man. "What?"

"The first holidays after losing someone are difficult, so I think it would be best if I came. Millie, I hope to see you there."

He raised his glass in a mock salute. I grimaced at him, unwilling to pretend to smile, but the moment the elevator doors closed, I whipped around to face Alex. He was pale, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

"Care to explain that?"

"I have no fucking idea." He dropped his head against the wall. "But Lochlan is going to be pissed as hell.