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I put the papers back in the envelope and into my messenger bag. “Let me run these back to the office and have him approve them—it shouldn’t take more than a few hours for me to be back with signed copies. You give a final set of signatures, I give you your copy and you’ll be all set.”

She sat down on the couch and rubbed her face with one free hand. Liam smacked his lips but stayed silent. “Sorry for snapping at you before. I know no one cares these days about single mothers and paternity but...” She sighed. “I’m a bit old-school. Should have known better and all that.”

“At least the little one’s going to have a good life.” I headed for the door. “And that’s all we can ask for, right?”

Molly shot me a wide grin. “He deserves the best. And I’m going to make sure he gets it.”

I stepped outside into the corridor and yanked hard on the doorknob. It took me a few minutes to flag down a cab, during which my mind spun faster than a Ferris wheel on overdrive. I slipped into the backseat and barked the address before falling silent, trying to quell the confusion threatening to overwhelm me.

Nausea burned my belly. I’d thought this was going to be a quickie and I’d be able to meet Bran for lunch. In retrospect, not eating had been a good decision; the driver didn’t need to worry about cleaning up a mess on his backseat.

The cab driver kept looking in the mirror as we headed back to the glass towers. It might have been because I kept putting my head between my knees, trying not to throw up.

There was no doubt in my mind this was Michael Hanover’s kid. He’d slept with Molly Callendar and he’d asked David Brayton to take the fall for it, then financed the payoff to get her and Liam out of town.

The problem was there was nothing illegal here.

Immoral, possibly. It depended on your point of view. But at least Hanover was taking care of the kid via Brayton. Callendar seemed happy with the arrangement; Brayton didn’t mind playing surrogate daddy and Hanover got rid of his messy affair.

My mouth tasted like I’d swallowed a bucket of sour candies as I argued with myself.

This wasn’t my business.

I was just a courier running papers back and forth so no one could connect Michael Hanover to Molly and Liam Callendar. My part was almost done and I’d secured the safety of all the Hanovers and my Felis family with a simple taxi trip.

Problem was, it became my business when Liam became Bran’s little brother and not a faceless statistic in the unending list of bastard children fathered by ignorant men.

* * *

The receptionist offered me a cup of coffee as I waited for Brayton. Her attitude had changed a hundred and eighty degrees from my visit an hour or so ago and part of me relished the star treatment. Brayton must have made it sound like Dad’s inheritance was pretty substantial based on the way she fluttered around me like a moth dancing to my invisible flame.

“You’re sure about the coffee? Tea? We have some lovely herbals,” she murmured in a soft tone. “Maybe some bottled water?”

“No, I’m fine.” I returned to chewing on my lower lip, working through a thousand options and finding them all unacceptable.

If I told Bran he’d be sure to want to confront his father. Not that I was against it but it’d set in motion the exact events I had been trying to avert with this job. I had no doubt Michael Hanover would set his dogs on my past with horrible repercussions for all of us.

But I’d just lambasted Bran about keeping secrets. And this was a biggie.

David Brayton poked his head out of his office and gestured for me to come down the hall. I waved to the attentive receptionist and walked down the hall at a leisurely pace—winning me more time to weigh options.

He closed the door behind me and retreated to his desk. “Did she sign?” His voice went up an octave on the last word.

“She requested some changes.” I plucked the envelope out of my bag and slid it over. “Seem reasonable enough to me.”

“How much did you talk to her?”

I put up my hands. “Just enough to make sure she was comfortable with the deal. There’s no point in the two of us going through this if she’s going to call a lawyer tomorrow and try and have the entire deal rewritten.”

Brayton grunted his approval. He pulled out the folder and scanned the pages, giving a noncommittal snort at each pen-marked paragraph.

I waited, standing in front of the desk. There were no pictures of friends or family on the walls or on his desk. It could be anyone’s office.

He closed the folder. “I agree. Let me initial these changes and get it finalized. Make another set and we’ll finish this up.”

I watched him scribble on the pages, pondering my next move. I couldn’t come out and call him a liar. I wasn’t sure if he was even a victim—maybe Hanover had offered him something he wanted or needed to have him take responsibility for Liam. I couldn’t assume he was in the same place as I was, blackmailed into staying silent.

“Molly and I spoke while she was going over the documents. She seems like quite a nice woman.” I ventured forth, choosing my words carefully.

Brayton smiled as his black pen leaped across the pages. “She’s a gem. I have no doubt she’ll be a fantastic mother.” I could hear the honesty in his words. He knew Molly, if not in the biblical sense.

I shifted my feet against the gray shag carpet. “How much does Michael Hanover know about all this? Does he know Molly?”

Brayton didn’t miss a beat. He shook his head. “He might have seen her on the floors—as I said, she worked here as a temp for a few months. I doubt he even knows her name. I only approached him when I found out she was pregnant and needed some, ah, neutral help.”

I didn’t have to be an investigator to pick out the lies in the statement. His body language screamed it loud and clear—the nervous tic in one cheek, the constant wetting of his lips. He was already fumbling the cover story, changing it from what he’d told me earlier.

I gave him my most comforting smile. “He’s a good friend. Someone you can count on.”

Brayton nodded, focused on the documents. “Fortunate for me and for Molly.” He closed the file folder. “Stay here for a few minutes, please. I’ll run this down to Legal, make copies, and you can head back to the hotel. I’d like to get this over and done with today.” His stare darted past me to the windows and the skyline, dotted with power towers. “I’m sure you’d like to get back to your other assignments as well.”

There was a note of curiosity in his voice that hadn’t been there before. He suspected I knew the depth of Michael Hanover’s involvement in this situation but he wasn’t going to ask and risk giving anything away.

I waved an invisible fly away. “I’m clear for the entire day. I’m here for as long as you need me.” I stood up, feeling the coiled tension in my legs. I wanted to scream, to kick down a door, anything but sit here and play dumb. “How many people know about this situation?” I didn’t say the word “baby”; I figured playing it safe was the best road to take for now.

He paused at the door, his hand on the doorknob. “As few as possible. Legal knows it’s an arrangement for a client—they don’t get to look at names, just numbers. We value the privacy we give our customers.”

Brayton slipped into the hallway and out of sight.

I walked around the office, considering my options. They ranged from few to none. I couldn’t confront Michael Hanover with the truth because it’d tick him off and he’d investigate me more, resulting in the Pride stepping in. I couldn’t even tell him why I knew it was his baby and not Brayton’s.

I had no idea what to tell Bran. It was one thing to run out and do a fast favor for his father but another to participate in a huge cover-up, something that directly affected Bran’s life and his future. I didn’t want to be there in twenty years when Liam came a-calling at Bran’s door announcing his half brother status. Sure, it might not happen—but it could. And I’d be part of this horrible secret, an unwilling participant but guilty as hell of helping making it happen.