Page 37 of Twins for the Off-Limits Lawyer

"Who's J?" The question popped out before I could stop it.

Daphne's face went scarlet. "No one! I mean, just a friend. A very distant friend. From school! You wouldn't know them."

Edward stepped forward, his lawyer instincts clearly kicking in.

The romantic moment was completely shattered now, replaced by something sharper, more dangerous. "Daphne—"

"I should go!" she interrupted, already backing toward the door. "Let you two finis… whatever this was. Goodnight!"

She fled as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving Edward and me staring at each other in the sudden quiet of the library.

"Well," I said after a moment. "That was..."

"Suspicious as hell," Edward finished grimly.

Our secret is safe, the message had said. Not just any secret—oursecret.

The intimacy of those words hung in the air like a question neither of us dared ask.

Edward moved to the window, his jaw tight with the kind of controlled tension I was beginning to recognize as his danger signal. "First Mother's mysterious phone calls, now Daphne's clandestine text messages. Is everyone in my family keeping secrets?"

"Maybe she's just seeing someone," I offered weakly, though even I didn't believe it. "You know, a boyfriend she hasn't told y'all about yet."

But even as I said it, I remembered the way Daphne had been acting lately—the mysterious relief in her eyes after Edward agreed to show me around London, the pushing for Edward and me spending time together, the way she'd seemed to know exactly how tonight would unfold.

Like she'd been planning it.

Whatever secret Daphne was keeping, I had a sinking feeling it was a lot more complicated than a simple romance. The way she'd been pushing Edward and me together suddenly felt less like innocent matchmaking and more like... what? A distraction? A cover for her own activities? And somehow, deep in my gut where all my best instincts lived, I was beginning to suspect it had everything to do with Edward and me.

Was Daphne trying to help us, or were Edward and I just convenient pawns in whatever game her family was playing?

CHAPTER 9

Edward

The acquisition folder lay open on my desk like an indictment, the morning light streaming through my penthouse windows casting harsh shadows across the documents I'd been avoiding for hours.

I'd barely slept after the library encounter—Lili's words echoing in my mind, the image of her face inches from mine refusing to fade. I'd always prided myself on compartmentalization—work stayed at work, personal remained personal, emotion had no place in either.

Yet here I sat, staring at documents I should have reviewed the moment they arrived, because some part of me already suspected what I'd find within those pages.

I reached for my coffee, noting with characteristic precision that my hand trembled slightly.

Edward Grosvenor did not tremble. Edward Grosvenor maintained control in all situations. But then again, Edward Grosvenor had never been faced with documents that could destroy the first genuine connection he'd felt in years.

The cover page bore Pemberton & Associates' letterhead, Sir Malcolm's bold signature authorizing me to proceed with"Project Wildflower"—the acquisition of Gardens & Home Television's UK operations.

My throat constricted as I flipped through pages of financial analysis, market projections, and strategic recommendations.

Projected losses of £2.3 million in the first quarter alone. Market research showing British audiences found the American approach "aggressively enthusiastic." Recommendations for immediate restructuring—corporate speak for dismantling everything Lili had worked to build.

My mobile buzzed against the glass surface of my desk, the sound sharp in the early morning quiet.

James's name flashed on the screen.

"Rather early for you to be calling," I said by way of greeting, my voice rougher than intended.

"Malcolm wants you in the office by eight. He's moved the board meeting to this afternoon." James's voice carried an odd tension. "There's something else, Edward. About the American acquisition—"

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