Page 18 of Tempt Me

“Hey, can I ask you something?” I say.

“Sure.”

“Your room faces the garden,” I begin. Finn’s expression turns wary.

“Yes,” he says.

“Did you…hear or see anything that morning?”

“I already told the police everything.”

“But that’s why I’m here,” I say. “To go over it all again.”

“Go over it with someone else. I don’t want to talk about that day.”

I sit at the stool next to him. “I know it’s hard,” I say. “I don’t like thinking about that morning either. But…please, Finn. They’re going to just let this guy get away with it if I don’t find something by the end of the summer. I need all the help I can get.”

My brother thinks for a moment, then closes his laptop. “I thought it was a car backfiring,” he says quietly.

We sit in the silence of what that means. I feel a strange itch behind my eyes and when I look at Finn again, he’s blinking very fast. He heard it. He heard the shot that killed Mom.

“I—I’m sorry,” I murmur. The enormity of what I’m doing is sinking in. It was easy to be self-righteous down in Argentina, to feel the superiority of this self-imposed mission. It’s another thing entirely to see the grief in my brother’s eyes, and to know that he was right here when Mom was killed. They all were. I was the only one who wasn’t around.

Finn shudders once, then opens the laptop, typing with renewed focus. “Is that all?” he asks, not looking at me.

“Yeah,” I say, standing. “That’s all.”

I won’t push him any further.

I take my cup and leave my brother to his own devices. I head back to my room to shower and change, then walk outside to find Alex. He’s wiping down the windshield of the town car, the sleeves of his white button down rolled up. It’s nearing noon and the day is turning out to be a hot one.

“Hey Alex,” I say. “Can you take me to the helipad? It’s time to make the pilgrimage to kiss the ring.”

Alex chuckles. “I was thinking you might be needing a ride today. The helicopter is waiting for you.” The quickest way to get from Magnolia Bay to the city is flying. There’s a helipad at the Seaport and another at 34thStreet on the East River. I’ll go to that one—it’s closer to the office. He opens the back door for me. “A little late to be rising, isn’t it?”

“What is it with everyone policing my morning routine?” I grumble.

Alex shrugs and hops in the driver’s seat. “It is unusual for you.”

“I’m different now.”

Alex glances at my attire in the rearview mirror. “This is true.”

I’m wearing another pair of old jeans and faded gray tee. I don’t care what I look like. I don’t care if my father judges me. I’m not the heir to Everton anymore.

Alex takes me to the helipad, a few miles outside town, and soon, I’m landing at the pier on 34thwhere there’s another town car waiting for me. We drive through the city streets, skyscrapers towering above me, the sidewalks bustling with people, yellow cabs honking. It’s a startling change from the idyllic views of Catarina Azul, or even the pleasant streets of Magnolia Bay. I used to come into the city all the time. For meetings with Dad, for dinner events, for parties or concerts or shows. It feels like another lifetime.

I suppose in some ways, it was.

The Everton offices are in a sleek black building on 56thStreet. I enter the cool lobby and take the elevator up to the twenty-seventh floor. It’s all so familiar: the black leather couches, the floor to ceiling windows, the muted carpeting. Golden letters readingEverton Estatefront one wall. The receptionist must have been warned of my arrival, because she’s new—I don’t recognize her, but she knows who I am.

“Right this way, Mr. Everton,” she says, escorting me even though it’s unnecessary. I remember coming into this office when I was just a kid, bringing Dad a home packed lunch he didn’t need and likely didn’t eat. Mom would let me sit in his chair while he was in meetings.

“This will be your office someday, Cade,” she’d say.

The memory sours in my stomach. Everything is floor to ceiling glass, but Dad’s office has these pristine white blinds that offer privacy. I stop outside the polished wooden door with a plaque readingRussell Everton, CEO.

I take a deep breath and knock.

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