Page 8 of Tempting God

“He wasn’t pleased at first but agrees that it helped the Brotherhood.”

“Did you get him to back off the other issue?”

There’s a long pause. “I have no doubts that both Hudson and Hugo will agree the fair Greer is still too young to enter a marriage contract with me.”

What in the heck?

He continues, “Besides, they want me to end up as President of the United States. That means keeping up a certain image that the young Ms. Blanc doesn’t fit.”

“Nor will she ever,” the second man says with a laugh. “If the chit didn’t look just like Hugo, I’d wonder if she was his at all. Nothing like Adara.”

“Indeed.”

Hot tears fill my eyes.

It’s one thing to know that I’ll never compare to Mother by my own standards. Knowing other people think it, too, is a whole other level of embarrassing.

“Well, find me after Blanc makes his speech. I always hate nights like this,” man number two says.

“As do I.”

Footsteps echo on the floor as the men leave.

My hand shakes as I finish off the flute of champagne. I can’t believe the words that I just overheard. How am I supposed to go into the dining room knowing that’s what others think of me? The glass clanks against the windowsill as I set it down.

“Is someone there?”

Crap!

Crap! Crap! Crap!

“Hello?”

I’m reaching for my shoes when a man enters my little sanctuary. He’s tall, with broad shoulders. Much like every other man here, he’s dressed in a black suit with a Brotherhood pin on the lapel of his suit jacket. There’s something familiar about him.

“Well, what do we have here?”

He smiles down at me, and suddenly I know why he looks familiar.

“You’re Grant Carter.”

“I am. And who might you be?”

A bitter laugh leaves my lips before I can stop it.

“Something funny?”

I stand, stepping into my shoes.

“Not at all.”

He stops me as I try to pass.

“You old enough to be drinking that?”

He nods his head toward my empty glass.

I smile up at him. “No. I’m not. Good night.”

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