Page 34 of Charming Deception

I swallow a groan and scroll, finding several more photos. But it’s the first one that’s the most damning.

“Fuck me.”

There’s really nothing else to say, as my morning goes to shit.

* * *

When Clara announces a visitor midafternoon, I head into my home office and settle behind the desk in time to glimpse, through the front windows, the distinctive Rolls-Royce Black Badge Cullinan SUV rolling up my driveway.

I’d wondered why he didn’t call yet today. Now I know.

I thumb away from the web page where I found one of the rare online photos of Cole with his sister and set my phone aside, making myself look busy at the home computer I never really use. My oldest brother and boss, Graysen, is big on appearances, and as far as he knows, I work from my home office most of the time.

I literally never work in any office. What’s the point of being a billionaire if you’re tied to a desk all day?

Anyway, I haven’t wasted my whole day stalking Cole’s sister. There’s not much to be found about her online anyway. No other press besides the few photos taken when she’s attended some hockey game or fundraiser with Cole over the years. No gossip.

Her life couldn’t be more different from mine that way.

I can’t even find any social media profiles except an Instagram account in her pen name. Her page is all quotes from her books and random photos of things she must think her readers will like. Most of them feature flowers. She has fewer than two thousand followers.

All the world seems to know about Megan Hudson is that she shows up every now and then at a hockey game with her brother, seems to prefer plants to people, and gets flush faced, adorable, and unbelievably sexy all at once when she talks about her writing.

That last part is my own personal observation.

I should’ve said no when Cole asked me if she could stay here with him. And again when he asked me to give her a job.

But I just couldn’t.

Cole is that kind of friend. He has this roguish charisma that endears him to people, including me. You just want him at your party and at your back.

But more than that, I owe Cole so much more than a place to stay while his house is being renovated and a temporary home and a job for his sister.

I promised myself, after he told me the hard truth that no one else would: Anything he asks. Because when your friend has your back like that, you have his, too.

Cole has never asked me for anything. He has his own money, his hockey career. It was a given he’d crash here while his house was being finished. That’s what best friends are for. But this… this is the only thing he’s ever outright asked me for, and I can tell it’s important to him.

She’s important to him.

But wealth builds walls, right? That’s practically the Vance family motto. I don’t have to let her in.

She doesn’t have to be important to me.

I’m only reading her book because I’m curious. It’s not every day you meet an author.

I probably won’t even finish it.

She might say it’s not a romance, but it’s starting to feel like one, and what guy reads romance?

I’ve got more important things to do with my time.

I’ve actually spent the bulk of my day so far on and off the phone with my team at Vance Industries and our PR department as they work on dousing the flames of today’s fresh, new scandal, which is spreading like wildfire in a drought. People are, as always, weirdly ravenous for this shit.

When I met up with pop star Nina Joy in Vegas, we hadn’t seen each other in a while, and she’d come on strong—as can be seen in the photos that went viral as soon as they were posted this morning. Like Geneviève, Nina is one of Vance Industries’ brand ambassadors. She’s the face of Sea Salt citrus gin and their trendy bottled gin cocktails, one of our leading product lines, she’s performing at the Vance Bayshore resort opening gala in the spring, and Graysen is probably fit to blow. Or bury me.

“Come in,” I growl, when Clara taps on my office door.

“Mr. Vance is here,” she announces from the doorway.

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