The Evolution of Man (The Trust Fund Duet 2)

“Interesting enough that I can sell it to more than one entity.”

That must mean Sutton is paying

for information, too. And why not? Both he and Christopher are friends with Blue Eastman. That’s how I met him. It doesn’t have to bother me that they’re both nosy and manipulative. It doesn’t have to hurt.

The ache in my heart proves me wrong.

My gaze scans the room back and forth, back and forth. Only when my heart leaps do I realize I’m not looking for sky-blue eyes and blond hair. Not only that. I’m keeping an eye out for Christopher, unable to keep myself from hoping. That will go on my tombstone, I’m sure of it—here lies Harper St. Claire, unable to keep herself from hoping.

“Shouldn’t you be at home changing diapers?” I ask.

Blue nods toward a closed velvet curtain. “I would, but I’m on the clock. We have two clients in the game. They both have their own bodyguards, but I figured I’d better check in.”

“The game?”

“Poker,” he clarifies.

“Does that often get violent?”

“All the men around the table are armed.” At my shudder he adds, “Not everyone who works for me can get the cushy job of tailing little girls to the library.”

I scrunch my nose. “I’m not a little girl. And I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“That’s good because he’s not there to guard you. Look at it this way—at least if the building comes down on you, there will be someone to dial 9-1-1.”

“He won’t come in after me?”

A faint smile. “He has orders not to engage.”

“Cold,” I say, but I can’t help laughing. “At least show me pictures.”

He looks only too glad to pull out his phone. A quick swipe reveals a chubby-cheeked baby with her eyes closed tight, tucked into the arms of a woman I recognize as Blue’s young wife. “She’s twelve weeks.”

“She’s so beautiful, both of them.”

He scrolls to the left, where a wide-eyed toddler offers a biscuit to the infant. Another one where a large golden dog sniffs the baby, who wears footie pajamas. Then there’s a little girl with chestnut curls riding a pony, wearing a tiara and rainbow leggings.

“Three of them?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“And they’re all as beautiful as their mother.” He keeps scrolling through an endless display of familial love, and I soak it up. Until another swipe reveals a woman who must be his wife. They’re in a fancy restaurant with china and wineglasses between them. Date night? She’s looking up, a little shy, a mild reproach, as if he’s snapping a picture against her wishes.

“She is beautiful,” I admit, my voice solemn. “What did she see in you?”

He gives me a secret smile. “I didn’t give her much choice.”

The words might be ominous if I hadn’t seen such love glowing from the dark eyes in the photo. “A husband who actually wants to stay with his wife. A little strange where I come from.”

Blue tucks his phone back in his pocket. “And where is it that you come from?”

“I’m surprised that’s not in your fancy reports.” It probably is, but I humor him anyway. “I suppose you could say I come from all over the place. All over the country. All over the world. But mostly you could say I come from money.”

He nods. “That’s a whole different ball game.”

I take in his tailored suit, which molds to his large body perfectly. The watch that easily rivals something the fancy businessmen in the Den are wearing. “I think you play that game just fine.”

“It helps when you’re so damn entertaining you have half the Tanglewood population paying for information about you. If you get any more interesting, I’ll be able to buy a vacation home.”

On that note he gives me a small salute and walks toward the velvet curtains. I slip inside after him, pretending I have every right to be here. It takes a second to adjust to the dim light and smoke in the air. Then I see players sitting around the table and someone dressed in a white dress shirt and a maroon vest that must be the dealer.