The Dom Identity (Masters & Mercenaries Reloaded 2) - Page 86

He started to stand, but his brother put a hand out. “Michael, please stay. I should have asked you if you had feelings for her, but I kind of thought you wouldn’t tell me the truth.”

“I don’t make it a habit to lie to you,” Michael replied.

“No, but you can lie to yourself,” JT pointed out. “I think what just came out of your mouth is the complete truth. You like her.”

Damn it. His brother was right. “I like her a lot. I’m hoping I can prove she’s innocent and then she doesn’t have to know I was investigating her at all.”

JT snorted. “Sure. That’s going to work out fine.”

Yeah, he’d heard that a lot, but he was smarter than people gave him credit for.

Their mom sent JT one of her patented mom stares, the kind that made JT sit up and stop laughing. She then turned back to Michael. “Don’t go, son. Tell me more about her. That awful man got me all upset. And honestly, it’s something I’ve worried about since you were a young man. You deserve all the love in the world, and I want that for you.”

Now he felt like he’d oversold the situation. “It’s not that serious.”

“Are you or are you not planning on seeing her when all of this is over?” JT asked.

His brother was forcing him to be honest with himself. It was something JT had always been able to do. “Yeah, I want to, but I worry that it could put my family in a rough position. I care about her a lot. But the press…”

“Can bite my ass,” JT said. “Nina would say the same. She’s been hankering for a good throwdown since she left the bodyguard business. You do what you want, brother. I’ll handle the press.”

“And I’ll take them all down if they come for my family,” his mother vowed. She reached out and put a hand over his. “I’m sorry, darling. I was worried, and there was a better way to handle this. I trust you. Please forgive me, and let us have a lovely brunch. After all, I’m going to have to go home and apologize to your father, so I would like to have a pleasant time with my sons.”

JT snorted. “Yeah, because Dad’s going to make it so hard on you.”

His parents had been married for fifty years, and they were still madly in love. His father would grouse, but all his mother would have to do was apologize and give him a kiss and all would be forgiven.

Could he have that with Vanessa?

Would she forgive him if he paid off her debts and got her out of trouble with Julian Lodge? The money was the trouble. He could prove her innocent of everything but the money.

But in a lot of ways the money was the most forgivable thing.

Of course, he also needed to prove she wasn’t behind the hack. He could certainly prove she didn’t do it herself, but there was the problem of her young hacker friend.

“Well, if he is, I’ll sic Jasper on him, and he’ll forgive me if only to get me to take him back,” his mother was saying.

JT chuckled. “That kid is going to be the death of me. Michael, you need to have a couple of girls to balance out all the boys. Nina says she’s done.”

“Where are the kids?” Michael finally took a sip of beer, relaxing because he might have been wrong about all of this. If his family accepted Vanessa, everything could work out. He might be able to keep her.

At least for a while.

JT sat back. “Chelsea’s got them. We dropped them off before we came here. We kind of tiptoed down the hall so you wouldn’t know we were there. They’re fine. We can take our time. Chelsea can handle anything.”

Chelsea hadn’t been left alone with Climbing Jasper. Still, she’d held the balance of the world in her hands a couple of times. Surely she could handle JT’s boys, and her own daughter was old enough to help.

Michael sat back as the server brought out a whole basket of cinnamon rolls and fruit and yogurt. It was the kind of thing Vanessa would love.

His mom and brother started telling stories of how often Jasper had nearly died while scaling something he shouldn’t.

Michael listened in, but his mind was on the woman he’d left at home.

Chapter Twelve

The elevator doors opened, but Michael was on the wrong side of the building. The top floor of the high-rise he’d lived in for ten plus years was split into two large penthouse condos. It was far more room than he needed, but he’d convinced himself it was an investment. He owned one of them and his cousin, Simon, the other. Simon actually owned the whole building, but then he’d had to put that good old British royal wealth to use here in the States.

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