Julia struggled to not look back at Lucian as she left the room. Was he going to follow them? She sure hoped not, because it would be hard to focus on her patient with him lingering nearby, staring at her like he wanted a repeat of—

Okay, she couldn’t even finish that thought.

Thankfully, Lucian appeared to remain behind as Devlin escorted her up the interior staircase to the third floor. Pushing aside all thoughts of him, she focused on her surroundings, ending up enthralled by all the woodwork and beauty of the home.

The walls were a pale gold color, the trim and chair rails that ran the length of the hallways an antique white. There were paintings she’d never seen before, so realistic that she could almost smell the earthy scent of the bayou or hear the sounds of Jackson Square.

“The woodwork in the home is amazing,” she commented, trailing a hand along a railing. What appeared to be vines were carved into the rich wood.

“Most of the woodwork you’ll see has been done by Gabe,” Devlin explained, surprising her. “He’s been working at it for the last decade or so.”

“Wow. He’s very talented.”

He nodded in agreement. “We have dinner here at six-thirty. You may join us if you wish,” he offered, and she had no idea if she could seriously sit and have dinner with whoever “we” were. “Richard will be with you shortly to discuss access to a vehicle. Since you have no set schedule, all that we ask is that if you are to leave, you advise Richard. Please feel free to take breaks. I know that her care does not require constant observation, but Dr. Flores will discuss that more thoroughly with you.”

She murmured okay as she fidgeted with the strap on her purse.

Devlin was quiet once more.

She glanced up at him, still a bit shocked that it was the Devlin de Vincent in front of her. It was incredibly unreal that she was reading about him and his fiancée a few hours ago and now he was here.

The photographs had not done him justice.

“Is the third floor a new addition?” she asked in the silence between them.

“The original house was only two levels, built in the late 1700s,” he answered.

Whoa. That was seriously old. Like old enough to be haunted. She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. Why did her brain always have to go somewhere creepy?

Devlin continued up the staircase. “My family renovated the entire home about fifteen years ago. It had been upgraded before—the electricity, plumbing, and cooling, but it needed more. The third level was built then, done in the same design as the rest of the house.”

At the entry of the third floor hallway, she noticed several doors. “Do they lead out onto the balcony?”

“They’re more like porches, but yes. There are several entryways from the hallway and from each room,” he explained, never once looking back in her direction. “There’s also an exterior staircase.”

More fans churned overhead, keeping airflow going. This place must be a beast to cool in the dead of summer. “It’s a beautiful home.”

It truly was, but there was a . . . a shadowiness that clung to the hallways, along the floors and ceilings. It was as if the wall sconces even during the daylight couldn’t cast enough light to chase them away.

Devlin nodded. “It was my father’s pride and joy.”

Was? She found that odd considering she was under the impression that the older de Vincent was still alive. She also found it weird that he wasn’t the one discussing Madeline’s care with her. Maybe he was away on business?

Devlin went quiet then, and she assumed he wasn’t much of a talker, and she was fine with that. After all, what in the world would they have in common to even chat about?

Nothing.

She thought of Lucian and inwardly cringed. Last night, she’d been surprised by how easy it had been for them to talk, but now? She knew it had to be an act. They came from two very different worlds.

Devlin stopped at the end of the hall, opening the door with pretty vine-engraved trim. An aroma of roses greeted her. Stepping to the side for her to enter, Devlin held the door open as she walked in and scanned the room.

By a set of double doors with white curtains drawn back, was a large chair and in that chair was a woman. A thin pale blue blanket covered her legs and was tucked in around her waist, as if someone had lovingly folded it back and then smoothed all the wrinkles out. Her arms were pale and hands were resting limply on top of one another over her stomach. Under the short-sleeve cotton shirt, her chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths.

“This is our sister, Madeline,” Dev said quietly. He did not look at her. Only stared in the general direction of his sister.

Placing her purse on a nearby chair, Julia made her way to Madeline. Immediately, she saw the resemblance between her and Lucian. The same golden-colored hair and defined cheekbones. She had all the details of his face except it was a more feminine version.

Madeline was as beautiful as her brother.

Her gaze was fixed on a painting near the doors, but she showed no sign of being aware that Julia was there or that her brother was in the room. The only movement was the slow blink of her eyes, but she was in far better condition than Julia expected.

“Hi.” Julia knelt down beside her and smiled. “My name is Julia. I’m going to be here for a little while to help you.”

Behind her, Devlin cleared his throat. “She won’t respond. She hasn’t spoken since she came back.”

“That’s okay,” she replied. “That doesn’t mean that she can’t hear us.” Or communicate in some other method, but Julia figured there was really no point to bring that up right now. “I’m going to check a few things out with you, okay?”

There was no answer or reaction, but Julia wasn’t expecting one. There could be a chance that Madeline wasn’t processing anything anyone was saying to her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve basic decency.

Julia reached down and picked up Madeline’s wrist. Her skin was cool and her pulse was a little low, but steady.

Carefully, she placed Madeline’s hand down. “Was she able to walk to the chair or was she placed here?”

“She is able to walk very short distances with assistance. I believe either my brother or Richard moved her to the chair this morning. She . . . seems to like it there.” There was a pause and when he spoke, the sound was closer than before. “Dr. Flores should be here shortly.”

Rising, she turned around and stiffened. Devlin was close, only about a foot away. She hadn’t heard him move.

“Dr. Flores will go into more depth about her condition.”

Nodding, she inconspicuously stepped around to the back of the chair. A quick check of the room, she found several medical instruments one would find in a doctor’s office. Blood pressure cuff. Behind the ear thermometer. An air oxygen measuring device. Catheter equipment. She had no idea what exactly she was dealing with here. What was the diagnosis?

“Would you please step outside the room with me for a moment?” he asked, and she followed, glancing at the woman in the chair. Back in the hallway, he quietly closed the door behind them. “Ms. Hughes—”

“Please call me Julia.”

He nodded. “May I be blunt?”

Figuring he wanted to discuss his sister in privacy, she was prepared to ask at least a dozen of the hundred different questions shooting around in her head at the moment. There were two super important ones. What exactly had Madeline been diagnosed with? And what tests had been done?

Devlin turned toward her, and it was then when she realized how close they were standing once more. She could see a tiny scar under the left side of his mouth, shaped like a crescent moon. That was how close they were. Like his brother, her towered over her, and when his unflinching stare met hers, unease blossomed in the pit of her stomach.

Did no one in his family understand the concept of personal space?

Julia wanted to step back, but she held herself in place with sheer grit. She wasn’t the same woman who had been married to Adam. She held her ground.

“I want to talk about my brother for a moment.”

Oh God, no.

“I have no idea what truly went down when my brother traveled to Pennsylvania to meet you, and knowing my brother, I probably don’t want to know. Part of me wants to call the agency and have a replacement sent, but my gut instinct is telling me that you’re good at your job and that I can trust you to be discreet.”

Julia was suddenly reminded of back in the day, when she was called into the principal’s office for talking too much in class, except this was worse, much worse.

“It is clear Lucian is . . . still curious about you.” Devlin held her gaze as every muscle in her body locked up. “And my brother has a way about him that makes it very easy to forget who he is. He has an amazing talent for causing others to forget common sense.”

Warmth zinged across her cheeks as her spine stiffened even more. “I would not jeopardize my employment by—”

“This isn’t about keeping your job,” he interrupted. “Whatever you two decide to do or not do in your free time is not my issue as long as it doesn’t affect your ability to perform your job.”

Wait. What? Did he really just suggest what she thought he did?

“This is about the long term, when your assignment here is over and you go back to your life. If you’re smart, Julia, and I like to think you are, you’ll ignore him. You’ll stay away from Lucian.”

Lucian was sitting behind Dev’s desk, feet kicked up on the shiny surface and legs crossed at the ankles when his older brother finally reappeared.

Dev stopped just inside the room, his brows slamming down when he saw where Lucian was. “What are you doing?”

“Role playing,” Lucian replied, grinning when he saw the muscle flex in Dev’s jaw.

“I don’t think I want to know what kind of role playing you’d be involved in.”

He inclined his head. “Stop being such a perv. I’m trying on the prodigal son role. You know the one.”

“Tell me about it?” Dev walked over to the cherry oak liquor cabinet and opened the glass door.

“It’s the one where you’re entrusted to escort a pretty nurse to our sick sister’s bedroom.” Lucian loosely folded his arms as he watched Dev pull out a bottle of bourbon. “I’m trying that role on for the day. See how it fits.”

“This is not a conversation I plan on having again with you.” Dev poured two glasses and then placed the bottle back on its shelf. “As hard as it is for you to not make every decision based on your dick, I want you to try.”

“I don’t make every decision based on my dick.”

Closing the cabinet door, he brought the two glasses over, placing one by Lucian’s knee. “That sounds as believable as you only asking her questions about nursing yesterday. You know, if you continue to mess with her, it’s only going to complicate things.”

Lucian picked up the heavy glass. “Is that so?”

Studying him for a moment and then his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t fuck her. If so, you wouldn’t still be interested in her.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He paused, watching the derision flicker across Dev’s face. “I think Ms. Hughes will do well with our sister.”

“And I’m assuming you’ve based that information off your conversation with her yesterday, because today, you spent ten minutes eye-fucking her and little else.”

“I didn’t eye-fuck her for the full ten minutes.” Lucian took a sip of the rich liquor. “There were about two minutes where I was actually listening to your conversation with her.”

Dev snorted. The closest he’d ever come to a laugh.

“Seriously, though. She’ll be good for Maddie.” Lucian ran his thumb over the rim of the glass.

“I actually think you’re right.”

Lucian widened his eyes. “Holy shit, can you repeat that? But let me grab my phone first.”

“Cute. Where is Gabe?” Dev asked, having already drunk most of the bourbon he poured for himself and it wasn’t even noon.

“At the warehouse,” he reminded him.

Dev lowered his gaze to his glass. “So, are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Lucian lowered the glass to his lap. “You’re going to have to give me a little more detail. There are so many things we could be talking about.”

Dev didn’t answer immediately. Instead he finished off the drink. “The funeral. The press. The charity drive our father was supposed to host at the end of the month. The scratches along his neck.”

Lucian almost laughed. “Wow. Gabe’s not here, so you’re actually going to talk to me about these things?”

“Desperate times, my brother, desperate times,” Dev murmured.

“That would actually hurt my feelings if I had them.”

A small twist of a grin appeared. “Our father may’ve believed you were a giant waste of the de Vincent name, but I know better.” Dev’s gaze lifted to his. “I’ve always known better. Don’t forget that.”

Lucian raised his glass to that. A moment passed and then he let himself say what was never spoken for years if not decades. “Maybe we can now stop calling him our father. We all know the truth. We’ve known it since we were kids. So did he. After all, the way the will was written and how the company would be divided said it all.”

“None of that matters. He raised you and Madeline. You two have just as much right as Gabe and I. There’s nothing else to discuss in regards to that.”

That was, of course, easy for Dev to say.

After a moment, Dev let his head fall back. A heavy sigh escaped. “The press is going to find out about Father. Most likely by tonight. We can’t keep it quiet any longer.”

Lucian was surprised that the news hadn’t broken already, even with the money that was guaranteeing the temporary silence. “Well, you’ll have your fiancée by your side,” he pointed out.

A beat of silence passed. “I haven’t told her yet.”

Lucian nearly choked on the liquor. “You haven’t told your fiancée yet that your father is dead?”

“No.” Dev lifted his head and opened his eyes. “I didn’t see the point yet.”

He stared at his brother. “Wow. Your relationship is a love match to truly aspire to.”

“Like you even know what being in a relationship is like. What is your rule again?”

Lucian smirked. “We’re not talking about me.”

“And we’re not talking about Sabrina and me. What I tell her . . .”

Footsteps silenced both of them. Lucian’s gaze flickered to the door and then he swore under his breath. Then he said louder, “I better sit up and sit straight, here comes a national treasure.”

Dev let a grin slip free.

Senator Stefan de Vincent stalked into Dev’s office like he had every right to be there, unbuttoning the jacket of his tailor-made gray suit. Gold reflected off his wrist.

Anger was etched into their uncle’s face—the same face he shared with their father. They’d been identical. “You two have a lot of explaining to do.”

Dev glanced down at his now empty class. “You’re going to have to give us a little more detail.”

The senator stopped in the center office. “Is how the hell am I just now finding out about my brother’s death through a damn lawyer enough detail for you?”

“Well, yes. That does clarify things.” Dev rose from his chair. “Would you like a drink? Looks like you need one.”

Lucian chuckled as he leaned back in the chair, crossing his left foot over his right.

“Do you think humor is appropriate?” Stefan demanded as he glanced at Dev. “And yes, I would like a drink.”

“I think a lot of inappropriate things are humorous.” Lucian took a drink. Stefan and Lawrence might’ve been identical in appearance, but whatever bond most twins had, like the one he shared with Maddie, was missing between the brothers. Lucian always knew deep down, like some kind of inherent instinct, that his sister was still alive all those years that she was missing.

“I’m sure you do.” Stefan took the drink from Dev. “Why didn’t any of you notify me?”

Dev sat back down. “Well, considering the last time you two spoke it ended with our father threatening your life, I didn’t see the point.”

Sadly, Lucian had not been present for that argument.

“We had our issues, but he was still my brother.” Stefan downed the bourbon like it was water in a drought. “You all have no right to keep that kind of information from me.”

“Water under the bridge since you now know,” Dev pointed out.

“You should’ve notified me immediately.” Stefan walked to the window, yanking back the curtain. A muscle flexed along the older man’s jaw as he stared out the window, into the rose garden below. The empty glass clutched in his hand. “I didn’t get a chance to . . .”

Lucian waited for his uncle to finish, and when Stefan didn’t, he glanced over at Dev. His brother was focused in on the senator, eyeing him above the rim of his glass. The senator dropped the curtain. Light reflected off the gold watch as thrust his hand through hair that was still as black as onyx with the exception of the faint silver creeping along the temples. Lucian’s father wore a watch just like that. The only difference was that they had their initials engraved under the center piece. It was like Lawrence and Stefan had to have their names stamped on everything.

“I want to know what really happened.” Stefan turned, folding his arms over his chest. “Because I know what I was told was not correct.”

“And what were you told?” Dev asked.

Stefan made an aggravated sound as he scowled. “You know what I was told. That my brother hung himself.”

“That is what happened.” Dev crossed one leg over the other. “I found him.”

“Let me repeat myself, Devlin. I want to know what really happened.”

Lucian sighed as he placed his glass on the desk. “What Dev just told you is what happened. He found him hanging in his study. There’s nothing else to tell.”

“And that’s absolute bullshit!” Anger flushed Stefan’s cheeks to a deep crimson color. “Lawrence would not have—”

“Our father was very unhappy with the latest development in your situation with Ms. Andrea Joan,” Dev cut in, effectively silencing the senator. “He was very . . . distraught over the updates he was given.”

Stefan’s jaw hardened. “And who exactly was giving him these updates?”

A slight smile appeared on Dev’s face. “Now, you know how our father liked to ferret out information.”

Their uncle was silent for a moment. “You think for a second I’m going to fall for this? My brother ends up dead a handful of days after that—that girl returns? You think—”

“Don’t bring Maddie up,” Lucian warned softly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“And you’re a blind idiot if you think that’s true,” Stefano spat back. “I know what went on here before—”

“You don’t know shit.” Lucian pulled his feet off the desk and slowly rose. “You have enough of your own problems, Stefan. I wouldn’t come poking around here if I were you.”

“I support that statement,” Dev added.

“Oh, you two.” Stefan laughed harshly. “Fucking thick as thieves when you’re not at each other’s throats.”

Lucian smiled thinly. “Aren’t you lucky that Gabe isn’t here.”

“I think if all three of us were here . . .” Dev lowered his glass. “Someone else would’ve pissed their pants.”

Lucian smirked.

“Look here, you little fuck-brats. You all have another thing coming if you think that I’m not going to find out what really happened to my brother.” Stefan stormed toward the desk. “I will get to the bottom of this.”

“Have fun,” Dev said, tone dripping with dismissiveness.

Stefan slammed his fist onto the table. “You think I’m scared of you all? You just wait. You all have skeletons in your closet. Remember that.”

Grabbing Stefan’s hand, Lucian rose swiftly. “Are you actually that fuck-dumb enough to threaten us?”

“I think he is,” Dev commented.

Stefan tried to pull his hand free. “Unhand me immediately.”

That wasn’t happening. Lucian tightened his grip until he could feel the bones in Stefano’s hand grinding together. “You need to let what I’m about to say sink in real good. Keep threatening us, and you’re learn firsthand just how fresh those bodies in our closets are.”