Читать книгу The Secret Twin - Catherine Mann - Страница 10

One

Breanna Steele didn’t have much time to search the CEO’s office at Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. If she got caught, the consequences could be catastrophic.

But she was out of options.

Brea needed answers and she didn’t know who to trust. What if she chose wrong?

There were things far worse than prison.

She’d made a quick search of paperwork, and now she dropped into the sleekly modern leather chair behind the massive desk. She tried not to think about the times she’d visited this space as a child, when the office had been her father’s. Saturday mornings coming here with her dad and her twin sister after breakfast at Kit’s Kodiak Café. Playing hide-and-seek under the huge desk, or watching cartoons on the big screen at the other end of the office space, sharing a blanket while they fell asleep on the leather sofa.

Now the space belonged to another man, someone outside of the family. The desk and the corner walls of windows overlooking the frozen bay and distant mountains were the same as she remembered. But the rest of the space was now filled with new furniture—sleeker, minimalist wood and leather pieces. Her father’s office had been packed with family photos. Ward Benally had only one picture on his desk. Him with a little girl, elementary-school-aged, sledding.

She knew he wasn’t married, but clearly this child meant something to him. And that made him more personable. More than just an arrogant leader of a company that now belonged just as much to her rivals as to her family. Her father’s oil empire had merged with the Mikkelsons’ after his recent marriage.

Of course, Brea hadn’t really been a part of any of that, since they had believed she’d died as a young teen.

Brea’s conscience pinched. But her sense of survival dictated that she continue looking for the damning information.

She pulled a flash drive from her purse and plugged it into the computer. She’d lived off-the-grid for years, and while some thought that meant no computers, no communication with the outside world, she’d actually learned to use the internet without leaving a trail, building on knowledge she’d learned from her dad.

Learning to hack and code were skills stitched and threaded through much of her young life, before the airplane crash that had taken her from her family. She had shared that with her father. Once her mind was made up, Brea could accomplish anything. Dogged, unrelenting persistence. Also like Jack Steele. Her daddy.

Her chest went tight.

She blinked back tears and clicked through the keys, her fingers slick from the thin latex gloves she wore to keep her prints out of the office. Paranoid? Maybe. Maybe not. Bottom line, she couldn’t be too careful.

Someone connected to this company had played a role in the airplane crash that had killed her mother. The crash that had changed Brea’s life forever, in ways she still struggled to understand.

She had to have answers before she could put the past behind her, before she could feel safe here. Yes, she wanted to believe her relatives had nothing to do with such horrible treachery. Yet everything she’d learned pointed to someone in the Mikkelson family having been a part of the crash.

And now her father was married to the Mikkelson matriarch, merging their rival oil companies into Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. How surreal after their years of bitter competition and even outright enmity.

Almost too surreal. Like there might be a setup.

Hopefully she could find a clue here. If she didn’t? Well, she didn’t plan on giving up. She needed closure. But she also needed safety.

She wanted to reunite with her siblings, but she couldn’t be sure where their loyalties lay. The risk of showing her hand was too high. She would be persistent. And patient.

Glancing at her watch, she checked the time. Earlier, she’d ferreted information out of the assistant that Ward would be in a conference call for most of the afternoon. But she didn’t want to press that time to the limit.

A file name caught her attention, one simply titled with the date of the plane crash. She stifled a shiver at memories of the aircraft’s plummet from the sky. The terror. Her mother’s tight grip on her hand.

The air sucked from her lungs now. The same as it had then. A pull back to that day. The fear was a blood rush dragging her down. She could hear the whine of dying engines and the rustle of rapidly approaching earth.

Brea relived this moment more often than she cared to admit. Her body time traveling to the day that drew a line in the sand of her life. An eternal before and after.

A distraction Brea couldn’t afford right now.

She clicked to copy the file to her flash drive, the urge to read it now overwhelming. Her heart raced, her speeding pulse hammering in her ears.

“What are you doing in my office?”

Brea jolted upright, the masculine voice making her heart stop.

Not only had she been discovered in the act of spying. But she’d been caught by the man himself. Ward Bennally. The new CEO of Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. A sexy dark-haired man wearing an Armani suit, cowboy boots...

And a heavy scowl.

* * *

Ward Benally had expected the first months as CEO of Alaska Oil Barons, Inc., would be challenging. He welcomed that. He lived and breathed his job.

It was his whole life.

It was all he had left.

He’d just finished a brutal board meeting that had almost broken out into a fistfight over disagreements about modifications to the oil pipeline. He’d come to his office to get documents he hoped would satisfy both sides. He’d also looked forward to a few moments alone to quiet his frustration.

Instead he found his office invaded by the last person he would trust alone with sensitive company data.

Brea Steele, the long-lost daughter of Jack Steele. The same daughter who’d posed as an employee of Alaska Oil Barons, Inc., not that long ago, to gain access to heaven only knew what kind of encrypted information. She could not be trusted. That should be obvious to everyone. But Jack was so happy to have his presumed-dead daughter back, they all had to put up with her, even though, by all rights, she should be under prosecution.

Ward eyed her with suspicion as she kept her hands out of sight, her brown eyes guarded as she sat at his desk.

“Well?” he repeated. “What are you doing in my office?”

Slowly, she rose from the buttercream leather chair, her hands now tucked in the back pockets of her black jeans. Jeans that clung to her long legs like a second skin. “I was waiting for you.”

Her voice was cool and composed. Her sleek ponytail swished as she made her way around the desk, the silky glide of dark hair drawing his gaze like a hypnotic pendulum.

She was a smoke-and-mirrors show.

And his body reacted to her every time, no matter how often his brain reminded him she was trouble. “Looks to me like you were snooping around.”

“I’m nosy.” She shrugged, watching him through long dark eyelashes. “What can I say?”

“You call it nosy?” He strode forward, risking coming close enough to catch a whiff of...mint. “I call it breaking and entering.”

“Your assistant let me in,” she said neatly.

That gave him pause. He made a mental note to check her story. Even if it was true, she still should have been seated on the sofa or one of the guest chairs. “Did my assistant give you permission to use my computer?”

Her shrug called attention to her gentle curves. He snapped his attention back to the facts he knew about her. The woman before him had lied. Pretended to be someone else. Her actions were downright criminal. Brea could not be trusted. No matter how drop-dead sexy she looked in a turtleneck sweater.

“I just chose the most comfortable place to wait.” She picked up the silver picture frame from his desk, no doubt to distract him. “Who’s the kid? Cute little girl.”

“Put that back.” His voice was low, brooking no argument. The way he should have spoken to her about sitting at his desk. When she didn’t put the frame down, he took it from her hands.

Ward had lost everything when his ex-wife left him, taking his stepdaughter with her. Since he wasn’t little Paisley’s biological father, he’d lost all rights to her after the divorce from Melanie. He’d hoped his ex would be open to letting them visit—or at least talk—but that hadn’t been the case. His former wife just wanted to move on with her new life with her new husband.

Ward had been, for all intents and purposes, Paisley’s dad since he’d started dating Melanie, when her daughter was eight months old. He and Melanie had married a year later. The marriage had lasted for six more years...longer than it would have if there hadn’t been a child involved.

Ward wasn’t sure he ever would have given up, for Paisley’s sake. But Melanie had cheated, filed for divorce and was married to a guy twenty-five years her senior, wealthy, retired and ready to shower her with his money and time.

The metal on the frame dug into Ward’s palm.

“Sorry.” Brea twisted her hands in front of her, nails short, chewed down. “It was right out there for display.”

“Only if you were behind my desk, in my chair.” He placed the frame facedown so the picture of his stepdaughter wouldn’t distract him. He glanced back up to find Brea’s face showing a rare moment of vulnerability.

Calculated or legit? Experience with women told him it was more likely the former.

Her elegant throat moved with a slow swallow. “So, I wanted to see what my father’s office felt like, if it was the same as when I was a child, spinning in the CEO’s chair.”

He stuffed back images of his child doing the same.

And yes, he was surprised Brea had gone for the heartstrings. “That was well-played.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are throwing out that childhood memory to try and garner sympathy...or distract me from where you were sitting.”

He wasn’t letting her get away with invading his space. Heads would roll over her getting in here. For now, though, he couldn’t afford to let her escape until he had answers.

“Okay, I sat in my father’s chair because once I thought I would have a right to be there, that I would lead the company.” She nibbled her bottom lip, slick with gloss. “For a moment I wanted to pretend that life had played out the way I’d hoped.”

Was that another ploy to tug at his emotions and distract him? He wasn’t sure.

Regardless, his eyes were drawn to her mouth.

He tamped down a rush of attraction. “You were still in my chair. At my computer.”

All vulnerability slid from her face. She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. “Fine. You’re right. I had no business parking myself there. What do you intend to do about it?”

“I could call security.” Ward’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He met her brown eyes with an unrelenting stare. The kind of stare he’d perfected in long games of poker, after his divorce. The poker table was where he’d regained command and control. Honed his skills for leadership. For impassive demands.

“You could. And when they find there’s nothing on me and it’s just your word against mine?” Her voice was rich and sultry. Those dark brows arched...playfully?

“If they find nothing on you.” He watched her face for signs he’d struck a chord.

Was it his imagination or did her eyes widen with fear? As fast as the look was there, it left.

“And my father? What will he think?”

Jack Steele would do anything to keep her here—in town, at the company, in the family—and they both knew it. Still, Ward bluffed. He was good at it. His fast-track career attested to that. “He’s on the board, but that doesn’t mean he can fire me.”

She ran her fingers along the edge of the desk, the movement slow and intentional as she looked up at him. Fire flashed in those eyes. “He’ll be upset and his opinion still carries a lot of sway with the board and investors.”

It was rare someone called his bluff. Instincts told him she was a worthy adversary.

Which made her all the more attractive.

Damn.

“You’re right. So, why were you in here when you know it could make things tougher for the two of you to reconcile?”

“I guess that proves I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” She toyed with the end of her sleek ponytail.

He chuckled softly, not tricked at all by her little hair twirl. “Are you sure you’re not a lawyer like your twin? Because you sure do have a way with words.”

“Must be genetics.” She flicked her hair back over her shoulder, drawing his attention to the curve of her breasts, outlined by the formfitting black sweater.

He cleared his throat and backed up a step, needing air that didn’t carry a minty scent. “Enough flirting.”

“Flirting?” She smiled slowly. “Were you hoping I was flirting with you?”

Yeah, actually, he was.

And that was dangerous.

But not as dangerous as having her wandering around unchecked, peeking into the everyday operations of Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. It was bad enough she’d gotten away with it once. That was when she was in disguise and no one had an emotional connection to her. Now that the Steele family was emotionally vulnerable over her return after being presumed dead, there was no telling what they would let her do.

He needed to come up with a plan to keep her in his sights, sooner rather than later.

* * *

Brea needed to get out of Ward’s office sooner rather than later.

How could she have let herself get caught up in flirting with him? Every second she remained here increased the chances of him finding the flash drive in her purse. She’d barely had time to peel off the latex gloves and stuff them away. If he’d seen them, he would have realized she’d been up to something shady for sure.

Although, if her fingerprints had been found on the keyboard, in the file cabinets or in the desk, she would have been in even worse trouble.

“I need to go.” Was that breathy voice hers? She cleared her throat and started toward the door.

Except, Ward’s broad chest was in her way. She should have worn heels. But she’d been thinking about stealth and not whether she could meet Ward’s eyes once she got caught. Vibrant blue eyes, the color of an Alaskan lake, lightly iced over and ready to thaw.

“Of course.” He nodded, waving her through the door. “After you.” When she hesitated, he said, “Really, after you.”

Only then did she realize she’d been standing, rooted to the spot, looking into his gaze like a starstruck, sex-starved idiot.

She forced a vampish smile onto her face. “I promise, I’m not going to work my wiles on your assistant to get through the door.”

“Again.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Get through my door...again.” His smile matched hers, making her realize he’d seen right through her.

Was he as affected by a simple grin as she was? Because if so, then they were both in trouble. Her body was tingling from head to toe. There’d been a combustible chemistry between them from the moment they’d met. And the timing couldn’t be worse, given the mess with her family.

The mess she still had to settle.

She couldn’t afford the distraction of this man. Too bad his job put him firmly in the way of her goal of finding closure for her past. She needed to know who was responsible for blowing apart her family. For ending her mother’s life.

And until she knew whom she could trust, she had to maintain a laser focus. Keeping him off-balance would help. “Who was the child in the picture?”

She nodded toward the metal frame he’d placed facedown on the desk. The Ward Benally in that picture seemed so different from the one before her. Against the surreal backdrop of a snowcapped-mountain range, he and the young child—maybe a four-year-old—leaned forward in a wooden sled. Snow wicked off in a wave to the side of the sled. Ward’s blue eyes, somehow visible, were soft. Filled with joy. His protective arm was around the child, who was dressed in a puffy pink jacket and snow pants. Laughter was present on her little face.

“That’s my stepdaughter.” His smile faded, his face somber.

Mission accomplished in knocking him off-balance. So why did she feel so bad? “But you’re not married.”

“Not any longer.” Tight voice. Tight response.

Off-balance indeed. A moment of guilt passed through her. The glimmer of pain in his words stung.

That shouldn’t have mattered to her, but given their undeniable chemistry, it did. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded toward the door again, not budging from his position. He obviously wanted to ensure she walked out first. “I need to get to work. As soon as I escort you from the building, I can do that.”

She really should make tracks and get out with whatever info she’d gained. She’s was risking too much by staying here, drawn in by Ward Benally’s allure.

Striding through the door, she tried to ignore the sensation of his eyes on her. One breath at a time. She forced her heart rate to slow in time with her steps. She kept her gaze forward, off the window view of Alaska—icy water, snow and mountains. All so familiar. She wondered how the memories of this place had become dulled during her years away in the isolated little Canadian village, where her “adoptive” parents lived, a close-knit community that had become her world after the plane crash.

“Benally,” a deep voice rumbled down the corridor.

Her father’s voice.

Brea froze.

Ice crackled through her veins at this next surprise. Nothing she’d planned from this data-gathering mission had gone as expected. But this next hiccup truly rattled her to the core.

She should have thought of the possibility of seeing her father when she came here. Should have been prepared. She was working on talking with her family, trying not to close doors until she figured out whom she could trust. But she usually had more time to prepare herself.

Was that Ward’s hand on her back?

Her brain scrambled with too much to process at once. Her vision cleared, and she saw the conference room was half full—her father, his new wife and a slew of Mikkelson and Steele relatives, along with investor Birch Montoya and environmental scientist Royce Miller, husband to Brea’s twin sister, Naomi.

Brea stumbled. Air sucked from her lungs again.

Even though she’d come back to Alaska last fall—albeit in disguise—it was still like a sucker punch coming face-to-face with Naomi. Seeing all her siblings was tough. But Naomi? They’d shared more than similar looks. They’d shared a bond.

Or so she’d thought.

When Brea had come to this office before, she’d half expected Naomi to recognize her even while she posed as Milla Jones. She’d chosen the fake identity to infiltrate the company and find out what had happened all those years ago. But when her initial snooping had been uncovered, things had gotten complicated. She’d just wanted to know who she could trust, to get answers about the past and gain vengeance for her mother.

And yes, maybe she’d had the tiniest hope that she could have her family back.

But Naomi hadn’t even recognized her. There hadn’t been a single spark of recognition. Even knowing it was irrational to expect Naomi to know her—even in disguise, even after all this time—that total loss of connection had still hurt.

Her father stepped from the doorway, into the corridor, the others still hanging back in the conference room, behind the glass window. “Good afternoon, Brea,” her lumbering father said in that voice that sounded like he’d gargled rocks over the years. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Somehow he managed to look exactly like she remembered him from before the plane crash. Broad-chested. His eyes the unflinching blue of the Atlantic Ocean. Hair still dark and thick, although flecked with gray these days. As he looked at her now, she saw hope cross his angular jaw as his mouth relaxed into a small, nearly imperceptible smile.

That sure seemed to be the comment of the day. “I came by to speak with Ward.”

Her father’s eyebrows met, creasing his forehead. “What about?”

Her heart hammered again as she looked at Ward with panic. Was he going to rat her out? She wouldn’t blame him. And she hated how easily she’d just lied. And lied poorly, for that matter. Could her inability to think quickly have had something to do with the distracting touch of Ward’s hand on her back?

Just as she opened her mouth to spin out a better version of her fib, a breathless woman rushed up the hallway, toward them, pushing a stroller. It took Brea a moment to place her as Isabeau Mikkelson, wife of Trystan, mother of little Everett, and a media consultant.

The frazzled redhead thrust a binder toward Jack. “Here are the printouts of the guest list for the engagement party for Delaney and Birch, so you and Jeannie can work with them on the seating chart.” She rushed to add, “And I locked down the vintage roulette wheel for the casino theme.”

Smoothing her shoulder-length hair, Isabeau smiled gently. A calming soul. One of the people Brea instinctively felt to be genuine. Besides, Isabeau wasn’t connected to the Mikkelsons by blood. And Brea had to admit, that lack of connection made Isabeau intriguing as a potential information source. There was that old saying that those on the margins could see the center best. And damn, did Brea need a better vantage point.

Jack nodded. “Seating chart. Casino theme. Got it.”

His words blurred together as Brea studied her family through the hall window. They were scattered around the conference room, some speaking in pairs, others clustered behind Jack.

Brea’s gaze skirted to her baby sister, Delaney, a slender woman with dark wavy hair, standing quietly. Dressed in a simple red sweater dress and knee-high cognac-colored boots, Delaney visibly brightened as she leaned forward to look at the paper Isabeau handed to Jack Steele.

Brea swallowed hard. Memories of playing dress up with her sisters, decades ago, scrolled through her mind. Days of making bridal veils from towels with her sisters. They’d dreamed of planning those real family events together.

Her life was such a jumble.

Brea remembered her family, her childhood. But in the years that had passed since the crash, it felt like those memories had become unreliable. Thanks to the lies and betrayal of her “adoptive” parents, she questioned what was real...and what she wanted to believe.

There was so little she knew for certain. Such as how her mother had a special seal hunting knife called an ulu that she’d used to cut their pizza. Her mother’s impossibly strong and reassuring “I love you” as the plane had plummeted.

Everything else? Up for debate and analysis.

The caress of Ward’s hand on the small of her back pulled Brea back to the present. She looked at him, startled, curious.

His smile gave her only a moment’s warning before he announced, “I guess this is as good a time as any to let them know our little secret.”

Panic sent her heart racing. Had he seen her take off the gloves after all? Maybe there were cameras in his office?

“Um, let’s talk about this.”

“You’re such a tenderhearted woman.” His hand slid up her spine in a body-melting stroke that ended with his arm around her shoulders. His expression showed a warmth she’d never seen from him before. “It’s sweet of you to worry what your family will think. I know they’ve only just gotten you back, but I think they’ll understand the need to share you.”

“Share me?” She was struggling for air.

Talk about being knocked off-balance. Her efforts to pull one over on her family had been amateur compared to this move. And she was too damned speechless to come up with a rebuttal as he tucked her closer to his side.

“Yes. Share you. With your boyfriend.” Ward’s grin dug dimples in his wind-weathered face before he announced, “Brea and I are dating.”