Page 61 of On Thin Ice

Then Warren asked, “How did you two meet, Lise?” When I shifted my focus to him, I was again amazed at how much the brothers looked alike—dark hair and the same strong jawline. But Warren’s eyes were brown, rather than blue. It also didn’t escape my attention that Augustus got his mother’s green eyes, and I wondered how Sinclair felt about that.

Sinclair answered. “She works for me.”

“Ah…the good ol’ Foundation. Gets ‘em every time.”

What did that even mean?

Sinclair just shook his head, cutting his steak.

But Warren wasn’t done. “So what do you do there?”

“She’s my personal assistant,” Sinclair said, obviously wanting to keep my real work secret.

And then it washed over me, confirming what I’d already suspected in the back of my mind—none of them knew who I was or that I was repaying the debt I owed for the destruction of WCC’s simulation lab.

I had a clean slate here.

Instantly, my muscles relaxed and then I realized that much of the dread I’d been experiencing had to do with multiple factors—not just that the Whittiers were so different but that we were enemies…and especially because Sinclair and I had crossed a big line.

But they didn’t know any of that—although Warren’s curiosity had him digging.

So that Sinclair wouldn’t get stuck answering everything for me, I said, “I’m still pretty new…learning the ropes.”

“Not even letting ‘em settle in yet before putting the moves on, eh, little bro?”

Already, I didn’t like Warren—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t saying something I shouldn’t be listening to. My mind began racing all over the place, wondering what Sinclair might be hiding from me.

Did he always date employees? Was I just another notch on his proverbial bedpost?

But their father once again overrode the conversation. “That’s enough. Warren, why don’t you enlighten us all on how business negotiations are going with West Communications?”

More boring business talk—but I immediately understood that Warren and his date were only there for business. Even if there was attraction between the two of them, they were here first and foremost to solidify a business partnership.

“I’d say just fine—wouldn’t you, Hannah?”

The blonde woman next to Warren could have been a model. She was simply gorgeous with exotic looks. I couldn’t quite explain what it was about her face that made her look so stunning, but she reminded me of the models I’d seen in fashion magazines I’d glanced through while waiting in line at the store when my father and I shopped together—sharp, angular bones, hollow cheeks, and artfully applied eyeliner.

I reminded myself that she might have had some help, just as I had.

I couldn’t tell how old she was, though. She could have been just a couple years older than I or even Warren’s age. There was nothing about her, from the way she looked and dressed to her behavior and speech, that gave anything away.

When she spoke next, I wasn’t able to tell if she was joking or dead serious. “Isn’t it impolite to discuss negotiations before they’re finalized?”

It was as if I could feel the elder Augustus’s rage, and maybe it was because I was sitting next to him—but his face and words didn’t betray a thing. “With the public or the press, it would be rude and even premature—but aren’t we all family here?”

I noticed the slightest twitch of Hannah’s brow—and I thought I could see the future. There wasn’t a thing to base it on, though, because I didn’t know these people. I couldn’t even remember all their names. And I certainly wasn’t able to empathize with anything they were going through, any more than they would be able to understand what it was like to figure out one-hundred different ways to cook beans and rice.

The future I thought I saw was that negotiations with West Communications would fail. That was what Hannah’s almost imperceptible brow movement told me.

For a split second, I thought maybe she and I were alike…that we were both outsiders. But I knew that wasn’t true, because it was evident that she still felt comfortable here, like she was in her element.

She wasn’t the sheep in wolf’s clothing that I was.

She too was a wolf.

And it was evident by her next few words. “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you, Augustus?” Her gaze darted to the younger Augustus’s wife as she stood to lean over the table. “Vivian, right?”

It was the first time I’d heard the other woman speak. “Yes?”

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