Slade swallowed the strong amber liquid sitting at the bottom of his glass as he waited for Aaron to enter the room.

“How is she, Aaron?”

Aaron sat down in front of Slade’s desk, taking his time to cross his legs and smooth out the wrinkles on his clothing.

“Hello to you too,” Aaron answered.

“I’m not in the mood, Aaron. I asked you a question. Answer it.”

Aaron met Slade’s cold gaze with an unyielding one of his own. Slade had been around Aaron long enough to recognize his you’re-getting-on-my-damn-nerves look. But the despair resting in Slade’s gut was so pervasive, he couldn’t bring himself to give an actual fuck.

“I’ve been in New York every week for three weeks straight checking up on Mandisa because you’re too chicken shit to do it on your own, Hamilton. I’m your lawyer and your friend. I am not your errand boy. You want to keep tabs on her? From now on, you do it yourself.”

Aaron stood up and headed for the door. Never one to speak more words than necessary, he’d said his piece, and now he was on his way. When he reached for the doorknob, Slade lifted his eyes from the empty tumbler in his hand and looked at his friend’s back.

“I can’t, Aaron.”

He hated how small his voice sounded to his own ears. He was a charmer. Everything about his personality and physique was larger than life. How could he sound so weak and fragile now? How could Mandisa have ruined him so thoroughly?

“She doesn’t want me. She left me. I can’t just go to her.”

The pain sitting in his chest grew with each syllable. If he kept it all inside, then maybe it wasn’t real. But hearing those words vibrate through the air into the universe made them as solid as the wooden desk he sat behind.

“You are an idiot, Hamilton. She wants you. She just wants you to stop being a selfish prick. You know everything she said to you was true. You manipulated her for your own gain. No, it wasn’t for money. But manipulating someone into staying with you is still manipulation.”

Aaron’s words did nothing but dig a bigger hole inside Slade’s gut. Everything and everyone in his life that he loved, he’d lost at the hands of his father. He could label Bull the big bad monster responsible for all those tragedies. But this one, the most important loss of his life, was all on Slade’s shoulders.

“I know Aaron. I was afraid, and I let my fear get the better of me.”

Slade walked to the mini bar in his office and poured himself another two fingers of scotch. He stood in front of the window looking out at his beloved Downtown Austin, and he ached. Even the beauty of his city couldn’t dull the hurt of loss.

“She sees me as tainted. I don’t want to bring her any more hurt. I just need to know she’s safe. Bull may be out of this company, but that doesn’t mean he won’t aim his sights on her to get back at me.” Slade turned around to watch his friend still standing at the door, waiting to get away from the pity party Slade was hosting for himself. “Please.” His voice quivered. “Just watch out for her for me. I need to know she’s safe.”

Aaron kept his back turned to Slade as he released a loud huff of breath into the air. “Fine, I’ll make sure she’s all right. But if this is what love does? Turns a man into a sorry, whiny version of himself? You can keep that shit.”

* * *

Slade walked to his car in the executive parking lot. Fire singed his skin when he saw his father leaning casually against his vehicle.

“Hey there, boy. Bet your daddy was the last person you expected to see waiting for you today.”

“I’m busy, Bull. What do you want?”

“Oh, I’ve got everything I want. The question is, do you? That’s no by the looks of that hangdog expression dripping on your face. What happened? Your pretty little Dr. Avery leave you?’

Slade was too tired to attempt to pretend. He couldn’t muster up enough strength to play the bluffing game with Bull. “I’m sure it makes your day to know that she did.”

Bull let out a loud cackle of laughter. “Actually, it does.”

Slade held on tighter to the keys in his hand, trying to weigh the consequences for smashing them in Bull’s face. “Why does it bring you joy to steal from me? I can’t think of anything I’ve done that would ever justify all the hate and venom you’ve poured into my life.”

Bull shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant fashion and pushed his hands into his pockets. “You were born. Your birth signaled the loss of everything that ever mattered to me. Your mother and I had decided to be a childless couple. Not for selfish reasons—your mama was born with a congenital heart defect. She was supposed to stay home, and I was supposed to run her father’s company. But she decided she had to have a child, no matter the cost. She stopped her birth control without me knowing and hid the fact that she was carrying you until she was too far along to do anything about it.

“The strain of giving you life took more of a toll than she’d figured. And once you were here, your grandfather had a natural heir to give his company to. He didn’t need me any longer.

“But even after all that, I was happy to have a son. If I lost my wife and business because of it, I still had a boy of my own.”

The sincerity of Bull’s words sat on Slade’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. He’d never heard Bull speak of him or fatherhood in any way that was remotely endearing. But the soft smile on his face coupled with the distant look of happiness in Bull’s eyes were proof that he was actually telling the truth. He’d been happy about Slade coming into the world.

“Then where did it go wrong, Bull? Because I can remember you hating me from a very early age.”

Bull’s gaze dropped for a minute. When he lifted it again, the faint gleam of happiness faded, and cold hatred remained. “Even though I stood to lose everything I loved—and despite what you may think, I desperately loved your mama—I had a son born of my own flesh. Boy, I don’t know a man alive that can’t be happy about that. But that was stolen from me too.”

Slade narrowed his gaze at Bull as he searched for clarity. “What does that mean?”

“It means if I’d been smart enough to do the calculations, I’d have realized I was out of the country for nearly two months when you were conceived.”

“You lying son of bitch. Are you really going to try to tell me my mother ran around on you?”

Slade watched for any telling actions that would prove Bull a liar, but there were none. The man stared Slade in the eyes. His face was open, not a hint of subterfuge present.

“If you don’t believe me, Slade, ask Indira. She was your mother’s closest confidant. She was there for all of it. But if you want proof, all you have to do is look at our blood types. I’m A, your mother was B positive, you’re O positive. It’s a biologic impossibility that she and I could’ve produced a child with your blood type. Your mama told me you were premature because of her heart condition. I didn’t discover the truth until you were three months old. In one moment my entire world was taken from me. Your birth had taken a handful of years from your mother’s life. I’d lost my place at the company because you were a natural heir to the Logan empire, and then I was robbed of the last thing I ever held dear, my son. The last straw was your grandmother robbing me in her will. I promised I’d never let you steal another thing from me.”

Slade was cold with shock. If he believed what Bull was telling him, his entire life was a lie. It was impossible. What Bull was suggesting was crazy. Still, when Slade thought about every incomprehensibly evil thing this man had done to him, them sharing no blood made sense.

“I’ve worked hard to make you feel the bitter cut of loneliness all these years, Slade. But in all my dealings, I’ve never come as close to seeing you look as destroyed as the dear sweet chemist has managed to. Hell, if I’d known she’d be the key to your destruction all this time, I would’ve sent you to New York a long time ago. Who knew that I all had to do was wait for you to screw up to make my dreams come true?”

Bull stood up and slapped a hand on Slade’s shoulders. His crooked smile made his round face appear even more sinister. “Now you truly know what it is to be me, boy. To know that you somehow had a hand in your own destruction. Enjoy that feeling. Make use of it. That feeling is what makes me who I am. And you know what? I can already tell by that bleak mix of sadness and anger swirling around in your eyes, it’s going to do the same for you, my boy. I guess you’re gonna be a chip off the old block one way or another. Just like your daddy.”

Slade lifted his eyes and met Bull’s gaze. The fear and panic spinning around inside Slade’s head must have been visible, because Bull started laughing all over again. That sickening sound echoed off the parking lot structure walls as Bull walked away from Slade and out of his sight.

Dear God, am I really turning into him?

* * *

Slade walked into the apartment, longing for a hot shower and his bed after his brief encounter with his Bull. The day had been grueling. Between work and the oppressive emotions Bull had stirred up, Slade barely had enough energy to breathe, let alone make it up the stairs to his loft.

He walked into the cold, empty space and shivered. This place had been just a roof over his head during the workweek to minimize his commute. But since Mandisa left Havenheart, Slade hadn’t been able to bring himself to set foot on the ranch.

Memories of her were all over his beautiful land, lying in wait to assault him if he even thought to set foot on the property. All he had to do was close his eyes, and he could see her all over the ranch. In the stables, in the fields, by the brook, where they’d made love at the bank of the stream, at Mama Indy’s kitchen table—she was everywhere.

Feeling weak, he dropped his briefcase, cellphone, and keys on the hall table and walked the rest of the way into the loft, leaning against the wall. He stripped as he walked, leaving a trail of clothes from the door to the bathroom.

He turned the water on as hot as he could bear it and let the shower fill with steam. He stepped into the spray, hoping the water would wash off the layers of pain and disappointment he wore like a second skin.

He’d done this, and yet he still couldn’t come to terms with the outcome. He’d taken things too far by trying to keep Mandisa in Texas. He could accept that. He was wrong. There was no getting around that. But knowing Mandisa and everyone else in his family likened him to Bull—that infected his heart like venom. That knowledge kept him weak, bitter, and angry. He didn’t know how to save himself from it.

He washed himself and wrapped a towel around his waist, collapsing onto his bed as soon as he stood next to it.

He turned his head and saw the bottle of scotch he’d opened last night to help him sleep. It was half empty, and the remaining liquid called to him like an elixir. The contents of that bottle told him it was okay to be who he was. Told him that being compared to Bull in this context wasn’t such a bad thing.

He pulled himself up so that his back rested against the headboard and reached for the bottle with a shaky hand. It was the only thing in his life that understood him, understood why he’d done the things he had. It whispered soothing truths into his ear.

The bottle beckoned him to open and empty it. Slade was about to oblige until it told him there was nothing wrong with being like Bull, that he should accept it, not fight it.

He sat there looking at the bottle in his hand, listening to the siren-like call in his head begging him to succumb.

“I’m nothing like him,” he whispered. “I will never accept being like him.” The sounds in his head became distorted, pulling him from his bed. He dropped the bottle back on his nightstand and backed away from it slowly. He knew this was all in his imagination, but that didn’t make the experience any less real.

If you’re nothing like him, then prove it.

“How am I supposed to prove I’m nothing like Bull?”

Are you really asking a bottle of scotch that question? Even better, do you really expect an answer?

Slade stumbled the few feet to the kitchen area and held on to the counter for dear life. He wasn’t drunk, hadn’t had a drop of liquor since the last glass he poured that afternoon when Aaron was in his office. The possibility of insanity dangled in his mind, but he soon pushed it away. A talking bottle of scotch might have been the object he’d focused on, but he knew the questions were coming from deep within him.

He poured himself a glass of cold water and guzzled it in one swallow as his mind raced for answers. He couldn’t live this way, not when he’d experienced better. Not when he’d known what it was to be genuinely loved by the person lying next to him.

He found the cordless handset and pressed the third number on the speed-dial list. Two rings, and he heard the crisp and professional voice of his pilot.

“Good evening, Mr. Hamilton. What can I do for you, sir?”

“I need to be in New York as quickly as you can get me there. I’ll be at the airstrip in twenty minutes.”

“Then wheels up in thirty, sir.”

Slade disconnected the call and headed to his closet. He pulled a pair of jeans, a fitted T-shirt, and a blazer from the racks and dressed quickly. The last items he grabbed were a pair of socks and his boots.

He headed for the door, grabbing his cellphone, wallet, and keys on the way. He wasn’t worried about luggage. The only thing he needed was already in New York. He’d pick up anything else once he arrived.

He waited until he was in the car to make another call. When the other end of the line clicked, and he heard his mama’s “Hello, baby,” on the other line, he grinned.

“Hey, Mama. I just wanted you to know I’m gonna be out of reach for a few. I’m headed to the airfield now.”

“Where you got business now?”

“New York.”

He heard a brief sigh of relief pass through the line and could only imagine the smile coloring the older woman’s face. “What business you got in New York?”

“The only business I should’ve had there in the first place, Mama.”

“You going to fix things with our girl?”

That was his mama. Once she claimed you, didn’t matter if you were around or not, you were hers. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Mandisa in three weeks, yet she still claimed Mandisa as hers.

“I’m sure gonna try, Mama.”

“Slade, to try is to fail. Don’t try. Get it done.”

Mama Indy had been a force in his life. She’d pushed him beyond his comfort and forced him to do the hard things, even when he didn’t think he could. She was right. There was no room for failure in this. Mandisa wasn’t an option. She was a necessity, and he couldn’t just sit by idly and let her disappear from his life.

For a slight moment Slade thought to question Mama Indy about his paternity. But as he pondered the idea, he realized it didn’t matter if Bull was telling the truth or not. The man had never been a father to Slade. Discovering they shared no biological connection didn’t change that fact. He resolved at that moment to leave the past where it belonged—dead and buried. His only focus from here on out would be his future with Mandisa.

“On my word, Mama. I’ll get it done.”