Family Pride (Blood of the Pride) by Sheryl Nantus Read Free Book Online Page A

She fixed me with a death stare. “Report to the receptionist when you get off the elevator. Please do not deviate from your destination.”
    I resisted asking how they’d know. One of my side jobs involved testing company security and I knew how far a system like this would go. So far Hanover Investments rated a B grade—but that wasn’t what I was here for.
    A wink and a nod to the supervisor, and I headed for the masses waiting to be shot into the sky.
    I rode the elevator up, exiting along with a half dozen other people who scattered into the maze of corridors, leaving me to face down a receptionist perched at a glass desk like a vulture looking for fresh prey.
    The middle-aged woman glared at me over her glasses. “Couriers go to the third floor.”
    “Good thing I’m not a courier.” I shot her my friendliest smile. “I’m here to see Mr. David Brayton.”
    Her nostrils flared. “Mr. Brayton.”
    “Yes.” I dropped my business card on her desk, half hoping it’d drop through to the floor. “I’m expected.”
    After a few minutes of stare-down she picked up the phone and called Brayton. I sauntered around the lobby, staring at warped sculptures of bulls and bears.
    David Brayton shot out of a hallway and charged at me like I was holding the heart transplant he desperately needed. I almost stepped to the side to see if he’d keep going through the glass window in the lobby and plummet to his death.
    The bad black dye job didn’t hide all of his white short hair and his belt needed life support to hold the ample belly at bay, the white starched shirt stretched to its limit with buttons bulging. The nervous twitch in his right eye told me he was about to bust something if we stood out in public any longer.
    I took the initiative and stuck out my hand. “I’m so glad you can help me out with my inheritance. Danged if I know what to do with it and investing it looks like the best way to go.”
    The receptionist eyed me with newfound respect.
    “Of course, of course.” His head bounced up and down like a bobblehead traveling on a gravel road. “Please come into my office.”
    The sweaty financial advisor led me to a corner room—a spartan, emotionless square with a wonderful view of the office tower next to us. A generic wooden desk with two office chairs. It had all the personality of a blank greeting card.
    He gestured at the chair as he moved around the desk and sat down.
    I sat back in the plush leather and crossed my legs, balancing my elbows on my knees and touching my fingertips together.
    Brayton cleared his throat. “It’s a mess.” He withdrew a snow-white handkerchief from an inside pocket and wiped his face. “I mean, thank you for agreeing to help out. Michael said he was going to find someone safe, someone outside of the office and, well—” he spread his hands with a weary smile, “—here you are.”
    “Michael Hanover’s a good friend,” I deadpanned.
    “There’s this woman...” Brayton paused, a sheepish smile on his face. “I guess you’ve heard that phrase plenty of times.” He played with the gold wedding band on his finger, twisting it over red, irritated skin.
    “A few.” I allowed myself a grin. “And she’s not your wife.”
    “No.” Brayton shook his head. “No, she’s not. Her name is Molly, Molly Callendar. She, ah, used to be a temp here. A few days a week doing odd tasks for anyone who needed her.”
    I couldn’t resist. “And you ‘needed’ her.”
    His cheeks turned scarlet. A little pink tongue flicked out to wet dry, chapped lips.
    “I’m not here to judge you or your actions. That’s not my job.” I leaned in. “What do you need me to do for you?”
    “There’s a baby,” he whispered. “A boy.”
    I sat back. This was familiar ground and I felt more comfortable, despite the circumstances. “I assume there’s no question of paternity.”
    He frowned. “Molly wouldn’t be unfaithful.”
    Unlike you . “Have you had a paternity