Page 67 of The Re-Proposal

This will be fun.

Clay marches into the room, ever the soldier with his straight back, tense shoulders and rigid lips. As a kid, I worshipped my brother. There was nothing cooler to me than being a soldier. But when I told mom about my dream of joining the military, she cried her eyes out and made me promise that I wouldn’t.

You can’t join something that controls you, Cody. You’ve got to be the one in control.

I shake my head to clear the memories. “Did you call?” I turn and patter back to the kitchen to pour my brother a drink. “I didn’t get the message. Then again, I haven’t been on my phone.”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Clay asks.

I pour another glass of brandy. “You have to be more specific. There’s a list.”

“I got a progress update from Doberman today. Apparently, you’ve been giving your security team the slip.”

“Oh that,” I say, taking a sip.

“You got accosted today—”

“Accosted? That’s a stretch.”

My brother’s eyes are as startling and vivid as mine, except they’re blue instead of green. And right now, they burn with annoyance.

“And,” Clay grits out, “I had to hear that you’d taken in a foster kid from the news.” He accepts the drink from me. “Why did I learn something as huge as that from social media, Cody?”

“It’s a temporary arrangement. Don’t worry about it.”

“Where is the kid?” Clay glances around.

“Holed up in his room, plotting my demise probably.”

“You should bring him over. Introduce him. Island wants to throw him a party.”

“No need.”

“Why not?”

“Like I said, it’s temporary.”

“Having a child is a responsibility—”

“I know about responsibility, Clay. You don’t have to lecture me.”

Damn. I love my brother, but this overbearing father routine he’s gotten into lately rakes on my nerves.

Clay scowls. “I think it’s best if I leave now.”

“Probably.”

He makes his way to the door. On the way there, his eyes land on the letters. He notices the red one. Immediately, he stops. “The stalker came back?”

“I’d like to think of him as more of a morbid admirer.”

Clay grabs the letter and opens it. His face tightens. “The threats have gotten worse.”

“If an ugly drawing is all they have to offer, I don’t have anything to—”

“Dammit, Cody! Why don’t you take this seriously? People already see you as a target because of your wealth. Now with all this hate online… You need to be careful.”

“I am.”

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