@BettencourtBets: IVy might lose his girl and his bank. Our sexy scion is having a bad week.

Reina

Fuck.

Walking into Ceilo’s, I’d been prepared for Bryce to notice my resemblance to my mother, but I’d had grown more comfortable with each minute that passed. Now, after two and a half glasses of champagne, his offhand comment hit me like being sideswiped by a semi.

“Hmmm. Oh. Yeah, I get that all the time. Must have a common face.” Then I polished off glass three.

Tristan raised his eyebrows. “You are many things, Reina, but common isn’t one of them.”

I fixed my attention on Tristan, angling my body away from Bryce’s narrowed eyes. Nothing good would come from his scrutiny. “You’re right. I’m thirsty.” His own glass untouched, Tristan poured me another. This one I would sip, slowly. Fourth time’s the charm, right?

“I caught your interview with Wendy,” Bryce said, changing the subject.

“Yeah? What did you think of it?”

“I think my sister’s a real ball-buster.”

Tristan inclined his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Always has been.”

“True.” Bryce lifted his glass, forcing Tristan to do the same. Why not? I lifted mine too. God, I loved champagne. But why were the glasses so damned tiny? I mean, just one sip and the flute was half empty again. “But Wendy’s been even worse lately. It hasn’t hit the press yet, but she’s going through a pretty nasty divorce.”

Tristan grunted. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Me too. I actually liked the guy.”

I stayed very still, hoping to learn more, but they moved on to people I didn’t know. Things I didn’t care about. Maybe that was why Wendy had been so adversarial to me—I was a reminder that some men strayed, regardless of their vows.

But my brain was too full of bubbles to think about Wendy, or her motives for verbally attacking me. Stifling a small hiccup, I let my attention wander. The lounge was nearly full now and the music had gotten louder, so it was easy to let Bryce and Tristan’s conversation flow over me. There were too many names of people I didn’t know, places I’d never been to. It was much nicer to watch the people gyrating on the dance floor, or the glittering lights above my head. So many colors too. I never realized places like this used so many different colored lights. There was white, of course. And lots of pink and purples. So sexy. And an icy shade of blue too. God, this place was gorgeous. I inched closer to Tristan. He was gorgeous too. I can’t believe he’s mine. And that his bestie was actually my half-brother. I covered my mouth and giggled, leaning into Tristan as I examined Bryce. We had the same father, it wouldn’t be surprising if we shared some characteristics. I couldn’t see any, though. Maybe if I got a little closer . . .

Jesus. Get it together, Reina. I leaned back again. What was I planning to do, crawl across the table and scrutinize every one of Bryce’s features? My throat felt dry, even after all the champagne. Or maybe because of all the champagne. I looked around for water, didn’t see any.

“You okay?” Tristan’s face swam into focus.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I patted his knee. “Don’t worry about me.” I nestled into the crook of his arm, closed my eyes. Earlier tonight, massive numbers of takeout containers had magically appeared in one of the conference rooms and everyone ate dinner as they worked. But not me. My appetite had been squashed by the revelation that Bull Capital was making a play for Bettencourt. And four glasses of sparkling wine on an empty stomach made me sleepy.

Until a vibrating alarm from inside the breast pocket of Tristan’s suit buzzed directly in my ear. I reared back, blinking in surprise.

“Sorry about that,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

Tristan

I pulled out my phone, feeling badly for dislodging Reina. I’d never seen her have more than a couple of drinks and she was cute tipsy. “What’s up, Kyle?”

“Security found something.”

“Good, tell me.”

“Not over the phone. We pinged your cell, there’s a car waiting outside. Is Reina with you?”

“Yes. Why?”

“This should probably stay between you, me, and the tech guys waiting to brief us. It might mean something, it might mean nothing. But you need to hear what they found.”

Whatever it was, it obviously wasn’t good. There was no reason to wait until I got to the office. I held the phone more closely to my ear. “Spit it out, Kyle. Then I’ll get in the car.”

“Can she hear me?”

I frowned at the question. “No.”

He paused for a moment, then delivered his indictment in a rush. “Tech just got back to me. It’s her, Tristan. It’s Reina. She’s the leak.”

Every syllable was a sucker punch to my gut. I would have dropped back in my seat, but couldn’t handle being so close to Reina while Kyle tore her down. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“She been receiving calls from a phone registered to Gayle Van Horne once a week or so since we gave her a phone. I don’t know anything prior to that, obviously before we hired her she had her own plan and we can’t access it—not without illegally hacking the phone company’s internal systems. We’re working on getting a billing address, but since the guy trying to sabotage our fund is married to a woman named Gayle, it wouldn’t surprise me if Reina is really talking directly to Gerald.”

I took the phone away from my ear, ended the call. As my brain struggled to process Kyle’s words, I studied Reina’s profile with fresh eyes. Her forehead and chin were even, nose tilting upward just slightly. Flawless as a carved cameo. Was she just a Trojan horse, luring me into losing everything? “Kyle needs me back at the office,” I blurted.

Reina turned to face me, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth, her eyes shining with a warmth I knew she reserved only for me. I wanted to smile back, but it was all I could do not to launch into a caustic interrogation.

It didn’t help that I was leaving her with a Van Horne. Was I wrong about Bryce? Could he be involved too? Had I been duped by both of them? I needed more information, and distance.

I slid the phone back in my pocket, weighing my options. I didn’t feel good about leaving Reina, but if she was involved with any of the Van Hornes, we certainly didn’t belong together. And if, as I hoped, this was all some crazy coincidence or misunderstanding, Bryce would make sure she got home safe.

The DJ had started spinning tunes in earnest now, but the loud music didn’t override the questions taunting me like a frustrating game of whack-a-mole. Had Reina been hired by Van Horne to infiltrate Bettencourt? Was she the spy? It was entirely possible—every tweet was something she would know.

Kyle’s call might just have saved me from making a big mistake—publicly acknowledging that Reina St. James and I were a couple to more than just a handful of strangers, an ex who lived in Europe, and a friend who knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Of course, it paled in comparison to falling in love with her in the first place. And I was in love with Reina St. James. Completely. The pain filling my chest at the thought of her betrayal rendered it undeniable.

“Kyle needs me back at the office.”

Reina

Tristan’s voice was strained, his posture tense. Uh oh.

I reached for my purse. “Okay.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re not coming with me. I’m going to take you home.”

“Home? I don’t want to go home.” I was back at the Four Seasons, being taken away before the cotton candy arrived.

Bryce jumped in. “Let Reina stay here. Go get your shit done, and come back.”

Tristan’s eyes flicked back and forth between us, a question in them I couldn’t quite read. “Is that what you want?”

No. I wanted Tristan to stay. But I understood the seriousness of the threat Millennial was facing, and by extension, Tristan himself. If his head was already at the office after Kyle’s call, there was no use in him staying here with me. And I was in no condition to go back to work, not after four glasses of champagne. But should I stay? Probably not the smartest move. Even in my inebriated state, I knew spending time with Bryce was a risk. Had the circumstances been different, I would have accepted Tristan’s offer to take me home without a second thought.

I hesitated before answering, the loud music reduced to an ominous drumbeat as I weighed my options. What if tonight was the only chance I’d ever have to get to know my brother? “Yes, I’ll stay.” The words flew out of my mouth before I’d made up my mind. What the hell, these days I seemed to be risking everything. “But hurry back, okay?”

Tristan stood, his hand pressing on my shoulder as he faced his friend. “Take care of her, Bryce. Understand?”

Bryce rose so that they stood face to face, his response sending a jolt down my spine. “I’ll treat her like she’s my sister.”

Tristan

Exiting Ceilo, I couldn’t help but scowl at the nighttime sky. The sun had long since gone down, and I couldn’t see a single star. It was just as well, I guess. I didn’t want to think my mother was up there, watching this shitshow.

I slid into the backseat of the waiting Town Car, weighing various possibilities in my mind. Was there someone on my team who was working with Van Horne, someone who could be framing Reina? I imagined the floor, picturing the layout in my mind and evaluating the person sitting at every single desk. We had a close-knit team, and I’d worked hard to be the kind of boss that inspired loyalty in those around me. I couldn’t picture any of them stabbing me in the back.

Then again, the simplest answer was usually the truth. And so far, everything pointed toward Reina.

I strode through the revolving lobby doors, nodding at the front desk attendants like my world wasn’t falling apart. Upstairs it was relatively quiet. Two twenty-something pale faced guys dressed in rumpled suits sat on the couch in my office, laptops across their knees. Kyle stood by the window, sipping from a coffee cup.

“Tell me everything you know.”

Kyle looked over, eyeing the open door. I closed it, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. I’d never been prosecuted, but I was getting a taste of how it felt to await a jury’s decision.

Kyle swallowed, looking from the tech guys to me, then at the contents of his mug. “We issued Reina a phone on her first day, and there have been several calls to it from a number registered to Gayle Van Horne.” Kyle raised his face, and his eyes met mine once again. “Until tonight, they’ve been incoming calls. But immediately after your father disclosed that Bull Capital is making a play for us, Reina called her.”

My head was reeling, and I clutched at any straw within reach. There had to be a reason for the calls. Something I wasn’t seeing. “Gayle is Van Horne’s wife. You think Gerald’s using a phone registered to her? That he somehow planted Reina here?” I pictured the first moment I saw Reina, felt the heat of her smile on my skin. She couldn’t have faked that, could she? Was I part of her scheme? Was everything between us fake?

“I don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to find out. Without hacking Reina’s personal cell phone records, there’s no way to know how deep their connection goes.”

Reina said she had never met Bryce before tonight, and I struggled to recall anything from our brief time together at Ceilo’s that would prove otherwise. But could all this really be only a coincidence? Or was I just fooling myself?

I eyed Kyle’s mug. “Is that coffee?”

He gave a sheepish grin. “I raided your stash. After these guys told me what they found, I needed something stronger.”

I walked over to my bar cabinet, pulled out two crystal tumblers, and poured three fingers of forty-year-old Black Bull into each as the tech guys looked on hopefully. “No,” I said, answering their unspoken question. “You guys need clear heads. I don’t care how you do it, but if a few phone calls between Reina and a phone registered to Van Horne’s wife are just the tip—you’d better bring me the goddamn iceberg. What other calls were made from the phone? Who’s really using it—Gayle or Gerry? And dig into Reina’s background. I want a full financial profile. Who’s on her lease? Does she have any debt? Any large deposits or withdrawals, especially cash?”

“Sir, we can do that, but . . .”

“But what?” I barked.

“It’s not exactly—”

“It’s just that it’s kind of—”

“Illegal,” they finished in unison.

The skin on my neck could have scorched my collar. “I don’t give a fuck what it is. I want an update in an hour.”

They scrambled off the couch and down the corridor like two rats racing toward a block of cheese. I let out a deep sigh and collapsed into the chair behind my desk, unfastening the top button of my shirt. Kyle did the same in one of the chairs near the window. “Thanks for getting me down here.”

“Maybe it’s nothing,” he offered, uncharacteristically optimistic.

I snickered. “Don’t blow smoke up my ass. You said it yourself, you thought Reina was hiding something. Obviously she is—and we need to know what before deciding what to do about it.”

“For what it’s worth, I can’t see Reina doing what it looks like she’s doing.”

I agreed with him. But I also knew, better than anyone, how easily money could distort reality. The line between right and wrong was thin, and too often blurry. Whether driven by greed or need, envy was a powerful emotion. Or maybe it was something else entirely. “What if Van Horne is blackmailing her?”

Reina

With Tristan gone, the risk level dropped from flashing red to a muted orange, and thanks to the buzzy effect of too much alcohol, my lingering fear of exposure was pushed to the corners of my mind. Why waste the opportunity to get to know Bryce better? I’d been raised as an only child, and yet here I was, sitting across from the second sibling I’d met in two weeks. It didn’t matter that he had no idea we were related by blood. I knew, and for now at least, that was enough.

“So, why is it that you’re so anti-Wall Street?”

He laughed. It was a nice laugh, deep and joyful. I wondered if he had any demons at all. Probably not. “Is that like Occupy Wall Street?”

I was trying, but my brain was fuzzy. Any attempt at being witty was doomed to fail. “You tell me.”

Bryce’s shirt bunched, buttons straining as he shrugged. “Maybe that’s why I’ve avoided Wall Street entirely. I’m not anti-anything.”

“You have to be against something.”

“Why? I mean, beyond the basics. Human rights violations, sexual trafficking, child pornography, littering.”

“Littering? You put littering in the same category as kiddie porn and sex slaves?” I snorted, covered my face. Then laughed.

Bryce joined in. The girl beside him did not. I could tell she wasn’t someone he’d known for long, maybe not even until tonight. Reading their body language, it was obvious that she was much more interested in Bryce than he was in her. Her hand was draped across his thigh and he was leaning back, his arm resting on the top of the banquette, fingertips not even grazing her shoulder. And she definitely wasn’t thrilled that I hadn’t left with Tristan.

“I guess you’re right.” He reached for the bottle half-submerged in the bucket to my right. “That deserves a refill.”

“Careful now, you promised Tristan you’d treat me like your sister.” I wagged my finger at him, then reached for the glass. Watch it, Reina, you’re getting way too comfortable.

“Yeah, but which one?” Thankfully, Bryce wasn’t delving too deep.

“Is there a difference? You have two, right?”

“You were paying attention.”

“Of course. Plus I met one of them already. In Atlanta.” Shit. No need to draw attention to the sibling that actually knew who I was. Well, sort of. According to Wendy, I was just her stepmother’s abandoned daughter. She had no idea we had biology in common, too.

“Right, Tristan’s interview.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “You don’t want me to treat you the same way I do Wendy.”

“Why not?”

“Because we wouldn’t be sitting here, talking. She’s always been my annoying, know-it-all older sister. But lately . . .” he sighed. “She’s just not that fun to be around right now, is all.”

I wanted to ask Bryce more about Wendy, but knew it would come off as prying. And I wanted to ask about his father—our father, really. But it would take another bottle, at least, for me to be that stupid. “What about your other sister?”

“Celeste.” His face softened. “She’s great. Everyone loves Celeste. Even though she was raised by assholes, she never quite managed to become one herself.”

“Wow. That’s quite a statement.” Bryce’s grip on his glass was tight, I could see the strain in his fingers. He tossed back what was left in it. “That’s not water, is it?”

His flashed a dimple at me. “Grey Goose.” He gestured at the bottle on the table, what looked like decanters of orange and cranberry juice, and the ice bucket with a set of silver tongs dangling over the side. “Want me to make you a cocktail?”

I put my hand up. Vodka would be the death of me right now. “I’m good, thanks.”

Bryce shrugged, wincing slightly, again, as he reached for the carafe. “I didn’t used to be much of a drinker. But with this shoulder, the only things that help are booze and pills. That and being on the ice. I don’t even feel it then.”

“You’re not supposed to mix the two, you know. Alcohol and painkillers.”

He blinked. “You a doctor, too?”

“No. Just a concerned sis—” I caught myself. “—citizen.”

He lifted his glass. “To a very beautiful concerned citizen. And the bastard—I mean, friend—who is very lucky to have her.”

My brother was quite the charmer. We clinked glasses.

“Are your parents still married?” I asked, angling the conversation toward my mother. What role had she played in Bryce’s life? He was already in college at the time of their marriage, so probably not much. But as the disgruntled child she’d left behind, I needed to know what she’d left me for. Every painful detail.

“No. They divorced a long time ago. Both are remarried now. The holidays are real fun.” He flashed a grin. “How about yours?”

“My family is . . . complicated,” I said evasively. “Are you close with your stepparents?”

“Ah, no,” he said, accompanied by a derisive rumble.

An unfamiliar pang of sympathy hit me on my mother’s behalf. On second thought, maybe I didn’t need to know every detail. Time to change the subject. “So, how long have you known Tristan?”

“As long as I can remember.”

“I knew it.”

Bryce cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“I knew there had to be some sort of preschool for all of you.”

“All of us?”

“All you hedge fund heirs and venture capital cubs.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Investment banking babies? Private equity progeny?”

“Tycoon toddlers!”

“Financier families!”

We were laughing now, holding our bellies, doubling over as we shouted out financial phrases.

“Law partner progeny!”

“Ha! We said progeny already. No repeats,” I wheezed.

“Ok, I think I’ve got one more left in me. CEO scions.”

I grinned. “Me too. High net worth whippersnappers.”

We high-fived across the table, giggling like the drunken fools we were. The girl at his side finally had enough and stalked off. We laughed even harder.

“Sorry for ruining your chances tonight.”

Bryce wiped at his eyes. “I’ve never been so happy about getting ditched.”

“Speaking about being ditched, where’s Tristan?” I unzipped my purse and fumbled for my phone.

Things r more complicated than I hoped. Let me know when u r ready to go home. Will send car.

I read it several times, sighing. “Doesn’t look like he’s coming back any time soon.”

Bryce was looking at his phone too. “Nope.”

“He said I’m supposed to let him know when I’m ready to leave.”

“Are you ready to leave?”

I eyed the text, then Bryce. Tonight was going so well. When would I have another chance to get drunk and silly with my only brother? “Nope.”

Tristan

I left the cyber stalking to Dale and Tim, and tried to set my feelings for Reina aside. If the worst was true, if she really was an agent of Van Horne’s, then the only thing that mattered was saving Bettencourt. Much more was at stake than my heart or my pride. Perhaps equal parts burden and gift, I’d been born into a banking dynasty. And I wasn’t going to be the cause of its downfall.

There was one thing investors cared about more than anything else—the bottom line. They wanted significant returns on their money. So rather than twiddle my thumbs while I waited for more news, I did what I did best—managed Millennial’s investment portfolio.

Dale and Tim slunk into my office after an hour. Reina had been talking with Van Horne, whether Gayle or Gerald they still couldn’t say, on a weekly basis for at least the past year.

“And her finances? Any large deposits lately?”

“We . . .” They looked at each other, then back at me. “We haven’t gotten that far yet. The information you want takes time, but we’re close.”

I cursed. “Come back to me when you do, or in another hour, whichever is sooner.” I picked up my phone as they scurried away, and opened up my text messages. The most recent were the ones I’d written to Reina and Bryce. I stared down at my purposely vague words, then tossed the offensive device on my desk.

Kyle leaned against the open door. “Anything?”

I repeated what I’d learned. He whistled. “Tough break.”

“Why? You weren’t exactly a fan of us being together.”

“Maybe not. But I like Reina. And I know that she makes you happy. Believe me, I was getting used to the two of you.” He sighed. “There’s something off with all of this. I just can’t see her being a pawn in Van Horne’s game.”

“Same here—at least not willingly. It’s going to kill me if those two jackasses prove us wrong.”

Kyle nodded, patting the doorjamb as he walked back out to his desk without saying anything further.

About half an hour later, I couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck it. Why was I waiting for two tech nerds to tell me what Reina already knew? Was she a spy for Van Horne or wasn’t she? And if not, why was she talking to his wife? I bolted from my office, in search of the one person who could answer all my questions. But would she?