Page 125 of When Hearts Ignite

She grabs my hand and clutches it in a tight grip. I lace my fingers with her, telling her without words I’m with her every step of the way. “You were?”

“I just got the DNA results back. One of my candidates is indeed your father.”

There are moments when the world stops spinning and time slows to a standstill, when I swear I could hear every second ticking by, feel every atom of air brushing against my body, my nose picking apart every component of her sweet fragrance—the heady notes of mint, followed by the middle notes of jasmine, and a lingering base note of sweet, summer grass, everything that makes up her intoxicating aroma.

My body freezes, my lungs cease to work, my heart clamoring inside my rib cage like summer rain—whether it becomes a much-needed reprieve from the heat or a hurricane is yet to be determined.

I squeeze her hand tightly as every auditory nerve focuses on the deep, smooth voice of Emerson Clarke.

“Tell me, please. Is it Robert Kingsley?” Grace’s voice is shaky as she trembles before me.

A second passes by, but it feels like forever.

“He was one of our three candidates. I’d ask you how you knew that but I gather you probably don’t want to satisfy my curiosity at the moment,” Emerson begins, oblivious to the tension in the spacious foyer, which suddenly feels as small and claustrophobic as the trunk in the back of a car.

“And the answer is…no, he’s not your father.”

Grace lets out an audible sigh as she collapses on my chest, and oxygen, much needed oxygen, rushes into my lungs as I hold her against me.

Shell-shocked. Disbelief.

My body can’t begin to respond, to process his words. It seems too good to be true.

I clutch her against me, feeling her warmth in my arms, something I thought I wasn’t going to do again because there’d be no way I could hold her in my arms even as her brother because it would be the cruelest torture to do so.

“Your father is Linus Anderson.”

The proverbial gong strikes, the sound echoing in the room.

“What!” Grace exclaims, the shock evident in her voice. She looks at me, her eyes wide.

“Linus Anderson, as in the Anderson family patriarch? The family owning Fleur Entertainment and The fucking Orchid?” I couldn’t help but interject, suddenly finding my voice.

Emerson stays quiet at my intrusion as Grace stammers, “S-Sorry for not letting you know, but Steven Kingsley is here with me right now.”

Another long pause before low chuckles filter through the line. “Ah, I see. You don’t need to answer my question from earlier. Thank you for satisfying my curiosity.”

The fucking bastard. Emerson Clarke is one of the best in the business—I’ve known other businessmen who use him for investigations, and they’ve always called him a sarcastic son-of-a-bitch, and I can see why he got that nickname now.

“And yes, the same Anderson of the Anderson family you both know.”

“You’re sure?” I push. Now instead of upending my life, it turns out we’ll be upending my friends’ lives instead.

“DNA doesn’t lie.”

Grace’s mouth is slack as she gapes at me, her arms still around my waist.

“And my sister?” she asks.

“Still one hundred percent your sister. Same father. I tested his sample against hers too. And still the same answer as last time, don’t bother asking me how I got your samples. I have my methods.”

After a few more moments of shell-shocked silence, Emerson clears his throat. “I’ll email you the test results. Do with it what you will. I hope this brings you closure, and I’ll send you the rest of my bill. If you or your friends need my services later on, just call me.”

I start shaking, my muscles relaxing as a delirious laugh rips out of my mouth. I’d pay him my entire net worth and give him all the fucking stars on Yelp for this news. The chuckles soon become laughter as I bowl over and clutch her waist tightly to keep me upright.

A thousand sensations filter through me—the zinger of shock, the heady intoxication of happiness, the sweetness of love—and it’s as if my heart, which I thought was irrevocably broken, has suddenly been pieced back together by divine intervention and my body doesn’t know how to behave or respond. I find myself laughing, crying, tears streaming down my face as sobs tear from my throat, all the while trembling, my head against her stomach as she cradles me in her arms.

“Steven? Steven!” Grace’s voice is so sweet and so beautiful.

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