Page 38 of On Thin Ice

As if he’d read my mind, he said, “Of course, I can’t have you believing it’s all a selfless cause. Most of what I do for my father’s company results in tax write offs. That’s why I have several accountants working for me. There are certain percentages that have to be spent a certain way—which means I don’t even have complete control over the division I run.”

I couldn’t miss the bitter tone of his voice—and I hoped my hand on his chest was soothing. Even so, I remained still, just letting him say whatever he could manage.

“Fortunately, I do control a good chunk of the funds—but my budget is limited and I have clear guidelines I must follow.”

“Is that why you fundraise? Because your budget is limited?”

“Yes. If my job—my purpose—in this company is to do good, then I want to do the best job I can. And I don’t want my hands tied by whatever funds my father’s lawyers and accountants deem is appropriate for the year.”

“Your father must think a lot of you to give you such an important job.”

When he scoffed, I glanced at his face. He was no longer focused on my forehead but he had a faraway look, as if he wasn’t staring at the door across the room but beyond it. “My father gave it to me because he thought it was the one thing I couldn’t fuck up. He said it himself. It’s kind of funny if you think about it. I’d wanted to go into politics, but dear old dad thought it was beneath a Whittier and he had to have me working at the company. After all, my brothers head up their own divisions—and my oldest brother is no doubt being groomed to run the whole goddamned thing when dad kicks the bucket.”

I tried not to breathe, because suddenly the picture had become pretty clear. He didn’t want to talk about his family but we’d wound up there anyway.

And it didn’t surprise me a bit that I found myself despising his father more than any other person on the planet.

Chapter 14

The distant look in Sinclair’s blue eyes suddenly cleared like a summer storm being blown away. And he said the same thing I’d been thinking: “So much for not talking about family. Let’s change the subject.”

There was so much I wanted to know about this man, especially because the more I learned, the more I grew to love him. Was there anything he could ever say that would send me running?

I was starting to doubt it.

Touching his lip right past the cupid’s bow, I fingered the thin scar. If I’d seen it on any other man, I would have imagined he’d gotten it from a nasty fight or maybe a childhood injury, and it was another thing I wanted to know. “How did that happen?”

“The scar?”

“Yes.”

“It’s nothing I remember. I’ve been told it’s from forceps. My mother had a hard labor with me and I got stuck in the birth canal. The doctor had to use forceps to pull me out.”

“Oh, my God. That must have been so scary for your mother.”

“Probably. Edna said my father had my baby pictures destroyed because he didn’t want the first photos of me to be with the bruises I had. My oldest brother told me one time that I was ugly when I first came out—and I was lucky to only have this one scar.” Leaning forward, he pressed my head into his lips, probably so I couldn’t see his eyes. “Even though I don’t remember her, this scar reminds me of my mother—and how I almost killed her.”

What a gruesome thought. “You couldn’t help getting stuck.”

“Tell my father that.”

What I wanted to do was tell Sinclair that his father was a heartless asshole, that he didn’t care as much about Sinclair’s mother as he’d let his son think—but then I’d have to admit that I’d been devouring his mother’s journals like a series of novels.

But then Sinclair pulled back and said, “What about you? How did your birth go?”

“From what my dad tells me, it wasn’t a picnic either. My mom said she wouldn’t have another child after me, it was so bad. But…” I stopped, trailing off. I didn’t necessarily want to talk about painful family matters any more than Sinclair did.

“But what?” he said, touching his nose to mine.

How could I ever tell him no when he looked at me like that?

“I wonder if she had any other kids after leaving us.”

“Have you ever tried looking her up on social media?”

I frowned. “When I was younger.”

“Did you find anything?”

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