Page 115 of Irresistibly Risky

“Back off, Joe,” Randolph orders.

I don’t move, and I don’t attempt to shirk him off. I get that he’s pissed. I invaded his privacy. I dug into shit I had no business digging into, and I crossed a lot of lines with that. But it doesn’t change the facts, and it doesn’t change what he did.

If anyone crossed lines, it’s him.

“Do you remember what you told me when I was crying in the hospital?” Wynter calls out, her voice calm and composed. “Before you told me that I wouldn’t see you for a very long time that is.”

Joe pulls me in, putting us nose to nose before he shoves me away. He blows out a strained breath and then shakes his head as his chin drops toward the floor.

“You told me that when a person makes a mistake, they need to own up to it and accept the consequences of their actions. Even if it’s hard.” She laughs acerbically. “Then again, you were talking about me falling out of the tree and breaking my arm. You weren’t talking about yourself, which, in retrospect, makes you the biggest hypocrite of all. But for once, be a man of your word and tell me the truth.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What is all this about Leo, and what do you mean Joe said that to you when you were five?” Randolph is getting more and more riled up by the second, glaring into Joe’s back. “Joe!” he bellows, pounding his fist on his desk as if he’s calling this courtroom to order when Joe doesn’t so much as move a muscle to answer.

Joe, ever the shark, glares at me once more, ignoring everyone else. “Tell me how you knew?”

“I will never divulge my sources,” I tell him flatly, only to edge toward Randolph’s desk, giving Joe my back and Randolph my full attention. “I was curious if you already knew who Leo is to Joe, but given your reaction, I’m going to say no.”

Randolph stares dumbfounded at me, his eyes owl wide. “What do you mean? Who is Leo to Joe?”

“Leo is Joe’s son,” Wynter supplies. “And I’m his daughter.”

Randolph curses under his breath. “Goddammit, Joe!” He releases a harsh growl. “What other secrets are you keeping from us?”

33

I’m thrown. Totally. Completely. Undeniably.

I’m not even sure how to come up for air after this. I might as well grow gills and learn how to breathe underwater. Leo is my half-brother. Joe has cancer. It’s one thing after another, and yet, instinctively, I know we’re nowhere near done with this.

“Plenty,” Asher declares. “He’s keeping plenty of other secrets.” His unrelenting gaze nails Joe where he stands. He folds his arms and leans casually against the edge of Randolph’s desk. “He’s the one who leaked my shoulder injury to the press and the one who’s had the paparazzi stalking my building. But that’s nothing compared to the rest of it. You need to tell Wynter what you did.” The hardline, suffering-no-fools steadiness in his eyes has me turning back to Joe.

Joe bristles. “I don’t know—”

“You know!” Asher bellows, his hands now gripping the edge of the desk as if he’s restraining himself. “Don’t do that! Don’t look at me and lie, but worse yet, don’t look at her and lie. You have been a miserable piece of shit father your entire life, and this is not the time. Tell her how you used her! Tell her how you manipulated her! Tell her how you deceived everyone!” He takes a deliberate step in Joe’s direction, his finger pointed at Joe in accusation. “Because I swear to God, if I have to do it, you will forever be sorry.”

Joe picks up something from Randolph’s desk and chucks it straight across the room, making it shatter on impact, and I jump. Randolph is at just as much of a loss as I am, neither of us sure what to do or how to react.

“You can’t know!” Joe yells, his face red with rage.

“I know,” Asher declares with so much certainty that there is no mistaking him. “I know everything. Firewalls are only as good as the man hacking it, and my man is the best.”

“Fuck!” Joe growls, raking his flustered hands through his hair as he starts pacing.

“Tell me,” I plead, even as my heart rate starts to spike, and my palms sweat.

Joe shakes his head and storms toward the window, where he pounds his fist against the glass.

I turn to Asher who is furious and repeat myself. “Tell me.”

When Joe still refuses to talk, Asher snarls, calling him a coward and a weakling, and then he marches over to me and takes my hand, staring intently into my eyes with so much sorrow and vehemence, my knees nearly give out on me.

“He falsified my MRI results.”

I blink about sixty thousand times, a wave of some malformed adrenaline shooting through my veins, making my vision hazy. “No. That’s not…” Only I trail off because it makes so much sense it’s almost obvious, and I’m suddenly irate that I didn’t come to that conclusion before. There was nothing on the MRI that would have indicated it was from a different man. No degenerative changes in the bones. Nothing. Other than the scarring that indicated a previous injury, which Asher had claimed to have had, there was nothing. “That’s why the MRI showed a completely different picture from what I found when I went in.” I’m not even questioning. I’m nodding like the fool this man made me as it all comes together.

My stomach roils.

“Asher?” Randolph looks like his head is about to pop off his body.

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