Page 82 of Seas the Dating Coach

“Sorry about blocking traffic,” Cordelia tells Carol, her smile still a little wobbly.

“I’ll handle it,” Jax says, ducking away to speak to the uniformed pilot while keeping his gaze trained on Cordelia.

As my sister leans closer to Carol to answer a question, Vivian grips my arm. “I’ll make sure they leave you alone. Take as much time as you need to catch up.”

“Who?”

“The town.” Then Vivian winks, puts two fingers in her mouth, and whistles so loud even the pilot pauses his climb into the cockpit. “Everyone inside! It’s not safe to be out here when that thing takes off.”

The crowd stares, slack-jawed. Meanwhile, my love for Vivian grows boundless. I wonder if she’ll ever stop surprising me. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life figuring it out.

“When have I ever asked you for anything?” The woman of my dreams narrows her eyes and sets her fists on her hips when all of Wilks Beach remains frozen. “Get. Inside. The. Library.”

“You heard her.” Carol takes Vivian by the elbow, turning them toward the building. “Toot sweet!”

The rotors begin their slow rotation once everyone recedes a safe distance. The rest of my library staff corrals the curious guests like sheepdogs as Carol and Vivian lead the way back inside. Once the wind speed picks up, I use my badge to steerCordelia into the circulation room so we can talk. My sister and Jax have a wordless conversation before he nods, positioning himself just outside the door.

I lean against the automated book return system, still not believing what I’m seeing. “How is this possible?”

Cordelia’s smile turns wicked. “Turns out I’m almost as good at scheming as Dad.”

“And that means…”

She props herself against a table, grinning like a fiend but not elaborating. My fingers slide through my hair with an exhale. My sister enjoys a slow reveal almost as much as she relishes a grand entrance.

“It all started with some well-timed eyedrops in Dad’s scotch and a teensy-tiny fire.”

I rub my jaw. “Cordelia.”

“Okay, okay,” she says before muttering something that sounds likekilljoy. “Since you’re so impatient, I’ll spare you the delicious details and cut to the chase. I gained access to Dad’s contract room, and let’s just say I had a lot of fun in there.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline. Most billionaires have something they like to protect, be it a priceless piece of art or family heirloom. My father protects his triplicate-printed contracts in a walk-in vault hidden behind a bookcase in his study. Every business dealing of his career, after being digitized, is filed in that room. I think Grandmother’s Harry Winston collection is locked away in there too, but it’s mostly a shrine for his favorite thing.

Once, when I’d been home from college, he’d taken me in there, showing me the organization system like a proud king flaunting his prized possessions. “Words,” he’d said, “have the power to make or break a person.” He’d meant contractual words used in a legal sense, but I’d interpreted it under my own lens. For me, literature, and the families found within, hadgiven me the reprieve I’d needed when my reality had been an emotional wasteland.

“How’d you get past the retinal scan?”

Cordelia sends me an impish grin. “I thought you didn’t want details.”

“I’m reconsidering my stance.”

“No. You’re right.” She waves me off as the orchestra begins playing in the main room. “We’ve got a party to get to.”

I glance at the closed door behind my sister. “Jax helped you, didn’t he?”

Ever since Jax started protecting my sister two years ago, he’s been a littletooattentiveof her needs.

“I’ll have you know that the plan was ninety-nine percent mine. Jax just helped with cutting the security feed, but you’re missing the takeaway, which is…I have it all.”

“All of what?”

“The contracts. Yours. The contract Dad had with Katelyn.” She pauses when I involuntarily flinch. I don’t have a shred of emotion for my ex, but I’ll never get over the sting of my father’s manipulation. “It was the progeny clause of Katelyn’s contract I found interesting. The bit requiring her to leave before the child turned five. Sound familiar?”

My brows furrow as Cordelia continues.

“When did your mom divorce Dad? Do you remember?”

“I was almost…” My words drop off as a sickening sensation swirls in my stomach.

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