Page 1 of Fake Dark Vows

CHAPTER 1

Brandon

My phone vibrates on my desk, my mom’s face smiling at me like a cameo portrait inside a precious locket. She’s wearing her favorite pearls in the image, her hair swept back Audrey-Hepburn style, her smile revealing perfect white teeth. I can almost imagine her hissing under her breath, “Answer the damn phone, Brandon,” while the photographer catches her still sharp cheekbones in exactly the right light.

I reject the call.

Again.

I hit redial on the landline telephone on my desk and get straight through to Julia, my personal assistant. “Has my mother tried calling today?”

“Wrong question.”

“How many times?” I try.

“Ooh, at least a dozen, maybe more. I lost count shortly after I arrived.” I can hear her chuckling to herself as I cut her off.

I swivel my leather seat and stare out of the penthouse window at the winking glass of the Chrysler Building in the sunlight. My mother wants to discuss my father’s birthday arrangements even though she’ll already have everything in hand with zero input from either me or my brother. It will be the same scenario as last year, and every other birthday before that: she’ll run through the itinerary that she emailed to me a week ago, and wait for me to say, “I’ll be there, Mom.”

She knows I can’t refuse. It’s the big seven-oh, and she’ll want everything to be perfect, because there’s no room for anything less in Ruby Weiss’s life. The decorations will be themed, the food will be gourmet, and the games will be competitive—just how my father likes it—and we’ll all be expected to perform like circus animals, raising the bar a little higher with each turn.

I skim-read the email. A week on Ruby Island, the private island in the Keys my father bought for my mom to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary, dress casual, cocktails served at six, all arguments to be conducted behind closed doors.

Centuries ago, they’d have given me and my brother Damon pistols, instructed us to choose our seconds and meet at dawn to settle it like men. Winner takes all. Quicker and easier than the relentless tournaments we’ve been forced to endure all our lives in the name of competitiveness.

When my phone vibrates again, I close my eyes and inhale deeply. I stand, slide my suit jacket from the concealed closet in my office, and shrug it on, retrieving my phone as I pass my desk. Might as well take advantage of the fine spring weather and walk to my next meeting while I avoid her calls.

A glance at the Caller ID tells me that my mom has been shunted down the line—this is not a regular occurrence in Ruby Weiss’s life. No doubt it will be noted in her silk-covered journal to be discussed with me when I finally pick up.

I hit the green button. “Sam.”

I’m already exiting my office. Julia, my PA, glances up from her own conversation, eyes wide. She covers her cell phone with her hand, too late to hide the personal call.

“Eleven-thirty meeting,” I say.

“Will you be back?”

I can’t avoid my mother all day, and the anticipated conversation is already causing a headache to brew behind my eyes like I’ve been reading small print for hours. “Depends.”

Julia’s smile is fleeting and doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s immaculate in a dark-gray shift dress, her hair tied back on top in a coordinating bow, the kind a child of kindergarten age might wear. We’ve worked together for five years and in all that time, I’ve never seen her make a personal call, even discreetly, during office hours.

Her gaze drifts to the phone in my hand. Sam is still hanging on, but he can wait.

“My mother,” I say, the lie slipping off my tongue easily. “I’ll keep you posted.”

My office is on the top floor of the tower that my father had commissioned when he made his first billion. I step into the elevator and glance back at Julia as the doors glide silently closed. She has her back to me, cell raised to her ear.

I follow suit. “You’ve got thirty seconds,” I say to Sam.

“There might be a problem at the source.”

I follow the levels on the display in front of me. “What kind of problem?”

“SEC is paying a little too much attention for my liking,” Sam says.

“Do I need to step back?”

“No.” Pause. “No, I can sort it.”

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