Page 57 of Breach of Honor

“Yes. That’s how it’s always been and will forever be. Everything is passed down to the first biological son.”

I sensed bitterness in his voice. He had good reason to be angry. He’d never have more than fifteen percent of SJI stocks, and his son Henry, my cousin, would have even less. Like Simone.

The hierarchy of the St. James legacy, as they called it, was such that neither Uncle Peter nor Henry would ever be in line to run SJI. It sucked. And it wasn’t fair at all. Henry was born three years before me, yet he would never be given a chance to hold a position of power within the company.

“How’s Henry doing?” Subject change. I needed to get my mind off the company, the stolen money, and my position within the glass walls of SJI.

“Good. A traveling fool.”

“I envy his freedom.” Henry was thelucky one. Even though his relationship with Uncle Peter was just as strained as mine with my dad, Henry could do whatever the hell he wanted. When he’d turned twenty-five, he received half of his inheritance, as I had. So he traveled the world, hopping from one country to another and only stopping in Southern California a few times a year.

“Freedom is a luxury many will never have. We’re St. James men, a name to be honored, and Henry has rejected it.”

Crap. I hadn’t meant to open Pandora’s box. My uncle was indirectly talking about Diana, Henry’s mother. She had encouraged Henry to live his life outside of the family’s expectations. It was no secret my uncle felt abandoned by Henry, and from what I understood, Uncle Peter had loved Diana. But honor and the St. James name had killed any chance of him being with her. I’d wondered if he still loved her. After thirty years, wouldn’t the love have faded?

Miranda came to mind. I’d never stop loving her. If I couldn’t be with her, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. I had a feeling the same might be true for Uncle Peter.

I entered the house, grumpy and sweaty. By the end of our game, none of us were in pleasant moods. I wanted to take a shower, curl up on the sofa with my girl, and relax for the evening.

Clinking came from the kitchen. I followed the noise.

“I’m home,” I called, announcing my presence.

“Hi! How was your game?” Miranda whipped around the kitchen from the fridge to the counter. Seeing her in a little sundress barely covering her ass did things to me.

“I sucked today, shot an eighty.”

“Oh…sorry? I don’t know anything about golf.” She made a sad pouty face. “Maybe I can turn your frown upside down,” she teased.

I loved her playful side. Hell, I loved everything about her. But the slight bags under her eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Miranda was wearing herself thin, and it concerned me.

“Yeah, eighty is a sucky game.”

She grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sashayed over to me, lips puckered. “Later we can take your mind off your sucky game.”

I inhaled the scent of her coconut body wash, and it soothed me. She soothed me. “Later? How about now?” I lowered my mouth to hers and reached my hand under her dress. She rarely wore underwear if she wasn’t working. “Mmm,” I groaned, feeling nothing but ass.

“Will!” A giggle bubbled out of her. “Later. I’ve got dinner going here.”

“And it smells delicious. Stir fry?”

She nodded as I lifted her leg and hooked it around the back of my thigh. Yeah, she knew the drill and liked it when I did this to her. Her head fell back as I kissed her neck.

“Can’t dinner wait? I’m only hungry for you.” She relaxed into my fingers dipping into her soft, wet pussy.

That was enough of a yes for me to guide her to the bedroom.

A candlelit dinner out on the deck with wine and thewhooshof breaking waves and my girl… life was spectacular. If I could only forget all the money issues at SJI, I would say I had the best life.

But my conscience wouldn’t let me think of anything other than the stolen millions: my clients’ hard-earned money—money for their retirement, their children’s college education, and vacations.

York’s team still didn’t have a clue who was behind the breach. It was bullshit. And my father was unwilling to bring in the proper authorities. Fucking bullshit.

“What are you thinking about?” Miranda asked, lifting her glass to her lips. “You’re quiet, handsome.”

“Paris. Let’s pick a date and start planning.” My muscles coiled as I deflected.

The worst part about the breach was I couldn’t breathe a word about it to the one person who could comfort me with her tender touch. I’d been ordered to not tell anyone about the situation within the glass walls of SJI. It made me sick and pissed off that I couldn’t tell Miranda anything. She’d listen to me without judgment or interruption and would keep it a secret. I could trust her; she wouldn’t tell a soul.

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