The Twin Birthright

by Catherine Mann

  Her chest tightened at just the thought of their time as an almost-family. She blinked back tears and strode into the boardroom.

  Game face carefully in place, she adjusted her weight on her heeled boots, entering the room for her meeting with all the bravado she could muster.

  Business had to be done. The matter pressed into her chest, wearing another ache into her heart.

  As she made eye contact with Glenna, Naomi registered pain and fear in her gaze.

  Cocking her head to the side, Naomi opened her mouth to express confusion as Broderick placed a hand on Glenna’s back. Concern lined his face, too.

  Something terrible had happened. That much she understood. She could practically taste the unease lingering in the air of the well-lit boardroom. Worry racked Naomi, that chest-tightening feeling an all too familiar response these days.

  Glenna’s eyes grew shuttered and her expression became determined. “An emergency came up with Shana,” she said, her voice shaky. “They hadn’t told anyone yet, but she was expecting. She miscarried last night.”

  Naomi pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  Her mind wandered to Mary and Anna, to an impossible what-if. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the health of her baby girls, and a second prayer of comfort for the obviously grief-stricken couple.

  “This isn’t their first loss.” Glenna’s low voice was raspy, no doubt from recently shed tears. “They’ve stopped sharing any news right away.”

  Naomi nodded, setting her binder on the table as she slipped into the chair at the head. “That’s totally understandable.”

  She’d felt the same in telling people about her pregnancy, although the news had gotten out in spite of her efforts to keep it to herself. She’d been so upset with Royce for blurting out the news when she’d fainted. He’d been concerned, though. He was a good man, which made walking away from him all the tougher.

  Broderick opened his briefcase on the conference table. “Glenna and I dug deeper into the numbers and we want to go over our thoughts with you before talking to Dad and Jeannie this afternoon. We noticed a trend in stock buy-ups and sell-offs that are affecting our bottom line.”

  “That’s why we’re short?” Naomi blinked fast, wondering how it could be that simple. And then, at the same moment, she remembered how Royce had been close to arriving at a similar conclusion. The numbers had been off. “Bad luck?”

  Broderick shook his head, withdrawing a stack of bound printouts. “The timing is too suspicious for it to be coincidental. It would take a million-and-one odds for things to roll this way.” He leaned back in the leather chair. “My gut—a very seasoned gut—tells me there’s insider information being leaked. Someone who doesn’t want this merger to happen.”

  Her stomach sank. “Who?” Naomi sat up straighter. All those fears about the merger. That the families couldn’t trust one another. What if they’d made a grave mistake?

  “The person I’m thinking about doesn’t make sense.” Broderick’s eyes slid to his wife.

  “Who?” Naomi pressed, needing answers. Whoever it was had not only sabotaged the merger, but had torpedoed Royce’s research, his life’s work.

  And in spite of everything, that sent a surge of defensiveness through her for him. He didn’t deserve this.

  Broderick drummed his fingers on the stack of papers. “Glenna’s new personal assistant. Milla Jones.”

  Milla?

  That was the last person Naomi would have expected. Sure, she’d had the occasional sense that something was “off” when the woman was around. But insider trading?

  Naomi was grateful that Broderick didn’t suspect anyone in the family. “She’s new to the company. Very low level.” She turned to Glenna. “What do you think?”

  Her sister-in-law thumbed the corner of her copy of the printouts. “No company is safe from someone who is computer savvy.”

  Having a face to put with these problems was a step toward being able to fix them. If they could, that would mean Royce would be back at the company on a regular basis. Naomi should be glad for him. And she was. Only now... Their paths would cross regularly. How would she handle that without losing her mind—and her heart?

  She swallowed down the lump of emotion in her throat and focused on what she had to do, or what was right—making Royce’s innovations a part of the company. “What do you think is the best approach?”

  “I say we ask her to take a lie detector test,” Glenna said. “We’re within our rights to do that, aren’t we, Naomi?”

  “With the contract she signed, we could...” She visualized the document, certain of the legal precedent, but wanting more information first.

  Broderick leaned forward, hands pressing on the oak table. “That would also risk tipping off whoever she’s working for.”

  Royce’s career was riding on this. Naomi had drawn him into the company, and even if he didn’t love her, she could still give him this one thing—his work. His dream.

  “Quite frankly,” she said, “I don’t think we have time to set a trap. We need to plug this leak now if we want there to be any chance of incorporating Royce Miller’s work into the next phase of our construction.”

  “No use waiting. Let’s get this settled.” Glenna clapped her hands together. “Perhaps you should handle the questions, use those lawyerly skills of yours.”

  Nodding, Naomi tapped the pager, ready for the battle, a fight she would relish tackling.

  “Ms. Jones, please come in.” While waiting, she glanced out the window at the stunning Alaska mountain range They had to succeed in getting Royce’s designs online. The beauty of this wild land counted on research like his to thrive.

  With a deep breath, Naomi focused on the task at hand, sitting straighter in her ruffled work dress as the door swung open.

  “Yes? What can I do for you?” Milla asked.

  “You can sit and have a chat with us,” Glenna said, gesturing to a chair at the boardroom table.

  Glenna’s assistant raised her brows, surprise coloring her features. And then there it was. The strangeness Naomi couldn’t articulate. The way the young woman held their gazes felt...well, that was what she couldn’t name.

  Smoothing her blue, A-line dress, Milla sat.

  Naomi fixed her with a pointed stare. “What brought you to Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. to work? You’re far away from home.”

  “I read about the position on an online job board.” Milla moved her hands from the table to knot in her lap. “It sounded like an adventure.”

  “We’ve had an incident,” Naomi said, watching for a reaction in the woman’s eyes—which quickly became guarded, blank almost. More telling than an overt twitch.

  Milla Jones was hiding something.

  Even if they didn’t plan to use a lie detector test at this juncture, it would be interesting to see how the woman reacted to the possibility. “We’ve discussed having you take a polygraph.”

  “No need,” Milla said.

  Broderick leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You’re refusing?”

  “Not at all.” Milla crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m offering to tell you what you want to know now.”

  Naomi regarded her warily. “And what would that be?”

  Flattening her palms on the conference table, Milla stated baldly, “I know who’s responsible for your stock flow problem.”

  Glenna gasped. Broderick’s eyes narrowed.

  Naomi held herself immobile, surprised but wary. She hadn’t expected the woman to offer up information so easily. “So you’re admitting to being a party to insider trading?”

  “I’m giving you what you want, since you’ve already figured out the worst parts yourself.” Milla’s face became set in hard, bitter lines. With her voice defiant, she looked and sounded nothing like the smoo
th, accommodating professional of the past weeks. She was a damn good actress.

  Naomi didn’t appreciate the woman’s flippancy—at all. Time for Milla to feel the weight of what she’d done. “Pardon me if I don’t find this a joking matter, and perhaps you shouldn’t, either. You’re admitting to committing corporate espionage.”

  “I have information. You need it. And trust me—” she smiled darkly “—you’ll never think of the right questions to ask on your own.”

  Broderick swept the air with both hands. “Then by all means, say your piece.”

  Milla’s gaze flicked to each of them before she spoke. “You’re a family of power. Power doesn’t always treat others fairly.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” Broderick barked, launching a stare-down.

  Finally, Milla looked away. “I don’t know who the mole is. But I do know who, um, he or she reports to.”

  “Who would that be?”

  “The same people responsible for the plane crash that killed your mother, Mary Steele.” The words felt like bombs shaking Naomi’s foundation.

  Shock knocked the air out of Naomi’s lungs over the unexpected words, bringing a fresh wash of pain.

  Reeling from the information, she reached for her brother’s hand and squeezed tightly for comfort, until her fingers numbed.

  A desperate need for the truth clawed at her. “And our sister Breanna.”

  “Are you absolutely certain she died?”

  Naomi couldn’t have heard what she thought she had. No way would this woman be so cruel. How dare she? There had been proof. But before she could rip into the woman for her heartless gall, a gasp sounded from behind her, one that hitched with a groan of pain.

  She turned to see her father in the doorway, holding Anna, while Jeannie stood behind him, cradling the other twin.

  Naomi wanted to go to her dad and comfort him, but she couldn’t move, stunned still, processing all this through a haze of shock. That someone could toss out such a false hope tore her apart.

  Jack Steele’s face was twisted with grief, pain, then anger. Glenna leaped to her feet and took both infants in her arms, leaving quickly. Jeannie stepped up to place a comforting—or restraining?—hand on Jack’s arm.

  Whoever this Milla Jones woman was, she was sick. Twisted. Naomi wanted to scream until her throat was raw. To throw things until she battered holes in the wall. Anything to get out the pain that woman had brought on by suggesting Breanna might not have died. Her family had worked so damn hard for closure.

  She had grieved so hard in search of closure.

  Having that ripped away with a simple sentence was beyond imaginable.

  Because there was no way Breanna could be alive. There had been DNA tests run on remains.

  Hadn’t there?

  Her sister was dead. It was cruel of this woman to dangle the hope that Breanna could be out there somewhere, to offer them a hope that couldn’t be, a hope that would deny them closure forever.

  Naomi’s hands shook. More than air, she wished she had Royce at her side, the way her father had Jeannie.

  But no matter how much it hurt, Naomi was done leaning on Royce’s strong shoulders. It wasn’t fair to him, to either of them, when he would never love her.

  * * *

  Royce couldn’t remember when he’d last needed time in the saddle like this.

  The past week without Naomi had been hell.

  So he did what he did best. He pulled away.

  He sequestered himself and tacked up, taking solace in the ritual of tightening the girth, slipping the bit into the bay horse’s mouth.

  In the freedom afforded by the open trail, the tufts of falling snow.

  Sinking into the saddle, he took off on horseback, in a gallop that allowed him to examine these last few weeks.

  Heading up the mountainside, he held the reins loosely. Remembered how sensitive this gelding was to the slightest touch. He needed to be gentle and open, give the horse his head. When he’d heard about Milla Jones’s stunt from Broderick, Royce had wanted to run to Naomi’s side, to be there for her.

  Even if the woman’s claims were false, she’d stirred a wealth of turmoil in both families, resurrecting grief. But strangely, she’d also unified their bonds, since they were all working together now. Chuck’s wife, Shana, had notified private eye connections to investigate the issue. Milla had taken off and no one could find her.

  Turning a corner in the trail, Royce guided the bay on up the mountainside, slowing to a trot as he navigated the thicker parts of the forest, finding more clarity the higher they went. Feeling alive and connected.

  The way the Steeles and Mikkelsons came together in spite of something that should have sent them all into a tailspin...it blew him away. And yes, it surprised him, too.

  So often, he’d viewed the two large families as a distraction from his work. From Naomi. But seeing the way they leveled one another out now, the way they functioned as a unit despite their differences, gave him a balanced perspective. For the first time, Royce realized that he wished he could have been a part of the effort.

  The balance.

  It was a scientific principle. A law of the universe. And one Royce couldn’t seem to master in his personal life.

  He slowed the gelding to a walk, keeping his weight centered, a light hand on the saddle horn. The bay shook his black mane with a snort.

  As he looked at the deserted woods all around him, Royce realized it was damn difficult to help when he was living in solitude. Naomi and her family were there for each other, and yes, sometimes that came with crowds and static. But it also came with a wealth of support. Of common resolve. Dynamic energy.

  He’d always been a man of science. How had he missed seeing the balance that he and Naomi could bring to each other’s lives?

  Her big family showed him a world of extended strength. And yes, maybe he’d been holding back from commitment because all this was too much to lose.

  Naomi was too special to lose. She wasn’t a substitution or replacement for anyone. She was a once-in-a-lifetime love.

  But then hadn’t he lost her already by walking away?

  He loved her.

  He had never stopped, really. He’d only deluded himself.

  She was a part of him and there was no escaping that. If he could only convince her how he felt.

  And he didn’t intend to wait another day to tell her.

  He hadn’t planned on going to the gala celebrating Jack and Jeannie. But he realized now that he had to be there for Naomi. A swift, light tug to the right and the bay turned around. Responsive. As if he, too, could feel the building need. The urgency swelling in Royce’s heart.

  Light pressure from his calves sent the horse into a working trot as they wound through the trees. Then they were at the edge of the woods, with open land in front of them. Open for all his possibilities. More pressure to the horse’s sides sent the bay into a headlong gallop.

  The racing horse matched his racing realization. There was nowhere else Royce would rather be than by Naomi’s side.

  For the rest of his life.

  * * *

  Naomi adjusted the black velvet cape over her red satin gown, scrambling to gather up her ragged nerves and courage before stepping out of the limo and into the masquerade-themed gala.

  Into the chaos.

  It’d been a helluva week.

  Shana was recovering, Chuck by her side. Milla had been fired, and so far the investigator hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary about her or her family in Canada, where she’d returned. Having her out of reach worried Naomi. What if she tipped off someone else? Bottom line, they didn’t have enough cause to call the cops, but Milla had left a boatload of questions behind.

  And Naomi wrestled with a niggling twinge that maybe, just maybe, there was
truth to her insinuation that Breanna was alive.

  Cutting the thought short, she popped open a compact, investigating the subtle smoky eye makeup Delaney had promised would make her feel fierce. But the mirror only served to remind Naomi of her nightmare.

  She had been dreaming about Breanna, envisioning what she would look like. Seeing her in a mirror, unable to tell if it was her own face or her sister’s reflected back.

  Snapping her compact shut, Naomi closed down the thoughts that would have her crying her smoky eyes into a mess. She took a moment to center herself before stepping out into the cool winter air, tugging her velvet cape tighter to shield her back-baring dress from the elements. Her jeweled velvet shoes were safe from the snow on the red carpet arranged by the event organizers.

  Placing one high heel in front of the other, she took in the sight. Twinkling string lights led up to the Steele office building. Snow gathered on the ground bathed the whole scene in an idyllic winter wonderland.

  In her peripheral vision, Naomi saw a familiar silhouette.

  Her heart hammered and her chest convulsed as the tall, dark man approached, impeccably turned out in a sleek black tuxedo.

  Royce.

  Had she been holding her breath for long? She certainly felt light-headed.

  He fell into step with her as she traversed the red carpet, passing the smaller trees adorned with twinkling white lights. The way the lights were arranged made them appear like up-close constellations. Perfect for wishing.

  Which she did as she passed by. Needing her night to go well. Wishing for some sort of stability as her whole world felt uprooted.

  The doorman smiled, opening the Steele office to her and Royce.

  Ruggedly handsome as ever, Royce picked up two masks from the table full of beaded and feathered creations. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

  “Thank you... Why are you here?” Her voice came out whispery as she took the mask he handed her, an ornate Venetian recreation adorned with golden accents and decadent feathers. She fastened it to her face, looking at him.