Page 49 of Match Point

“It could be an alias. You don’t have to use your real name in an NDA, but hypothetically, even if it was me, it’s a binding contract. If word got out about it, the Arbuckle Miller on this, could sue the party who leaked the information.”

The shock and uncertainty she’d experienced at the beginning of the discussion took a back seat to her simmering rage. He was cagey and she didn’t take the veiled threat lightly. Her attorney had prepped her for this outcome and right was on her side. She didn’t want anything from him but acknowledgement. “If the party who signed the agreement is dead—as is written in this poorly drafted document—it’s no longer valid. You can’t sue a dead woman. You could try, but she had no estate to speak of. According to my attorney, you’d have to comply with discovery if you did.”

Tension hung in the air. The only thing breaking the silence was the dull sound of the water hitting the hull. She remained mute, allowing him to make the first move. Playing tennis with Leo had honed her skills of observation. What she wouldn’t give to have him by her side at this moment.

“What do you hope to gain by showing me this? You’re a bit too old for child support, if you could prove you were my child.” He stood and placed his glass on the table. The coolness that pervaded his demeanor was telling. He wasn’t used to being challenged. Money and fame had a way of insulating a person, she knew that from firsthand experience. Leo had called her on the bullshit, grounding her in reality and pulling her head out of the clouds. .

“I don’t want anything materialistic, if that’s what you’re asking.” Sorcha stood as well, unwilling to give him the upper hand by allowing him to glare down at her. In her heart of hearts, she’d hoped to gain a family, a tie to something bigger than her own existence. It was apparent that wasn’t about to happen with him. Anger continued to drive her actions.

“That’s what they all say. I made you. I can break you.” He motioned to his bodyguard. The big, bulky man wore a suit but there was a notable bulge under his jacket. He was armed. “It’s late, I’ll arrange for a car to take you home.”

Pride and vindication drove her, and she squared her shoulders. Time to crank up the heat. “They all? Either you have illegitimate children or you don’t.”

“When you’re as rich as me, frauds come out of the woodwork. I have uncles, brothers, cousins, sisters—a whole boatload of relatives I’ve never seen or heard of who pop up. It’s funny how many of them disappear once I start court proceedings.”

The interview had gone south in a flash and her dislike of him increased. She snatched up her purse and shoved the strap over her shoulder. “Unlike your long-lost relatives, I don’t threaten easily.”

“Don’t challenge me, Sorcha. You won’t like the outcome. You can wait for the car on the pier.” He turned his back and strode across the deck.

“Game on, Miller!” she called out, satisfied to see him pause before he disappeared into the hallway.

Sorcha stomped off the deck, phone in hand. She waited until she hit the pavement before she let the angry tears fall. Climbing into the back of the town car, she retrieved a card from her pocket and dialed the number. A woman answered on the second ring. “Hi Grace, it’s Sorcha Templeton. I have something I’d like to speak to you about, a scoop you won’t want to miss out on.”

Miller’s response had changed the narrative from a quest to find her father, into vindication for her mother and the countless women who’d suffered at his hands. He wanted a fight; she’d give him the fight of his life.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Leo opened the garage door at Howler’s house and started to back his SUV out of the garage. He’d finished the last details about severing his contract with the Army and now he was waiting for it to be official. A black town car pulled into the driveway and he applied the brakes. His heart rate picked up, a jolt in his stomach. Sorcha. Would she be alone, or would Miller be with her? Did it matter?

The town car stopped, and Sorcha jumped out, alone. She shut the door and the driver drove away. If there was anyone else in the car, they’d said their goodbyes before they’d arrived.

Sorcha entered the garage and he rolled down his window. He met her shadowed gaze. His mind screamed to leave before he said something stupid. His earlier mood had worsened, and he’d been stewing about her whereabouts for hours. It wasn’t a good place for him to be.

“You’re back early,” he said, debating whether to cut the engine and talk or go home.

She leaned into the window and rested her elbow on the seal. From her red, puffy eyes, she’d been crying. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I have to talk to you.”

What the hell happened? If Miller hurt her, he’d kick the guy’s ass. “Sure.”

“Let’s sit by the pool. I need a glass of wine, after which I might finish the bottle, depending on my mood.” She stepped back and rubbed her hands down her bare arms.

The night had turned cold, typical for the Pacific Northwest. After he turned off the SUV, he climbed out and grabbed his sweat jacket from the passenger seat.

“Here, you look like you could use this.” Curiosity pricked, he held out the jacket. He’d known her long enough to judge her mood. Although she’d been crying, she was also pissed.

“Thanks,” she said, slipping it on and lifting her hair out of the collar. The mass fell down her back in a cascade of curls.

They skirted the house and came into the pool area. The blue lights in the pool cast a soft glow. What did she want to tell him? Patience had been his strength but not tonight. His head spun with a million guesses. She’d gone out with Miller, a married man known to gather mistresses like other people gathered souvenirs.

She entered the mini bar, set her purse down and retrieved a bottle of red wine.

He shook his head and settled his hand on his hips. “No on the red. There’s a white Pinot Gris in the fridge. Less calories.”

Raising her chin, she opened the red bottle. Eyes shooting daggers at him, she poured two glasses. “I like red wine. I don’t like white. It has no flavor. This is my party and you’ll drink what I provide.”

A reluctant grin formed, and he licked his lips. Sassy Sorcha was back in full force. “Fine, just expect extra weights during the morning workout up the trail. Since it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, the muddy trail.”

“Good, I love a mud bath,” she said, a trace of amusement in her comment.

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