Filthy Lies (Blackstone Dynasty 2)

I slapped on a smile and went with that plan.

She didn't get to say what she wants.

No matter how much I wanted to hear Winter's answer, I shouldn't have pushed her. Even though I'd almost gotten it out of her didn't mean it was the right thing to do. I needed to remember why my future couldn't include Winter Blackstone, and remember it well.

Yeah, Victoria's timely interruption had been for the best.

But having to accept that it was for the best made my heart twist painfully as I escorted the two of them into the elevators.

"Why are you two out so late?" Victoria asked, her curious eyes moving between Winter and me. Her question was the politely worded version of: Why in the hell are the two of you together and out so late?

Winter answered but kept her eyes focused on the floor. "I had class—"

"And I picked her up, because she didn't drive her car. The T at night is out of the question for her." I finished Winter's sentence for her with my eyes on my sister and nowhere near the floor. Helping a good friend was nothing to be ashamed of.

"Ahh…" Victoria made a little "o" with her mouth as she took in my clipped response, her intelligent mind working through what might really be going on. I knew she would come straight out and ask me at some point. My sister didn't tolerate secrets and lies.

"What about you?" I asked pointedly.

"Clay's dad's birthday. We took him to dinner," she shot back.

The elevator dinged through the tension as it stopped at the eleventh floor.

Winter stepped forward, impatient for the doors to open. "Thanks again for the ride home, James, and good seeing you, Victoria. Goodnight, guys." Her long legs took her away quickly. Clearly, she felt she needed to escape.

And I made her feel that way—selfish asshole that I am. I wanted to follow her, so I could make sure she was okay. How did I fuck that up so badly? One moment I had her in my arms—exactly where I'd wanted her for a long time—the next she was a tigress. Seemed my Winter had a few secrets of her own, and fuck did I want to know what they were. I liked that. That there was a bit of naughty mixed in with the sweet. A little fucking much…

We called our goodbyes to her back as she headed toward the hallway, and then Victoria and I stared at each other. Silent scrutiny between siblings, communication without words—something we had done for years.

After the doors closed us in again, my sister wasted no time.

"James, you cannot hurt her. Caleb will kill you. And so will I…along with everyone else."

Fuck my life.

Chapter Five

WINTER

Shane's big brown eyes held the power to render me helpless as we discussed the mysteries of the Thanksgiving dinner menu. The fact he was only six years old probably helped, but he'd captured my heart nonetheless. His jeans had holes in the knees, and his shoes were ready for the trash. He could use a long soak in a warm, soapy bath and a haircut for his unruly sandy locks, but still, my little Shane was a shot of adorableness on maximum overdrive.

He's not yours.

I would have loved it if he were, but the rules were clear on how much "help" we could give the kids who visited the South Boston Youth Center. No matter how much I wished I could take Shane and his twin sister, Brenna, home with me, it couldn't happen. I couldn't buy clothes especially for them, or shoes, or school supplies. I wasn't allowed to take them to Chuck E. Cheese's on their birthday or give them a present I'd bought myself. It wasn't right to give preference to one child over another. All donations had to be vetted through the proper channels and distributed fairly. I understood how the system worked.

I also understood how the system was very fucked up.

I had money and would love to put some of it to good use. I'd love to be able to provide some security for my little friends, Shane and Brenna, so they didn't have to live in a scary apartment in Roxbury where there were drug dealers, sex traders, gang violence, and a myriad of other horrors children should never have to deal with in their young lives.

I'd been wracking my brain lately for ways to make this a possibility. The very best scenario would be to found a private shelter where I made the decisions about who could get assistance. If I was director, and had a governing board of like-minded individuals to help me, I knew I could make it viable. I had a huge trust fund sitting in the bank growing by the day. I also had connections to wealthy donors who'd love the big fat tax write-off that came as part of their generous donation.

There were some problems with my plan, though.

My trust fund couldn't be touched for six more years, and I didn't have my license yet. I could do something about my licensed status, but my trust fund…not so much. In another month I'd be qualified to apply for certification as a social worker within the state of Massachusetts, whereas I inherited my money when I turned thirty, or at the time of a legal marriage. The age requirement had been included to ensure maturity for the trustee (me) in regard to the financial decisions made in dispersing such a large amount of money. Getting funded when I was older also ensured the maximum potential for growth as the trust doubled every seven years.

The marriage clause was there to protect the trust should I find myself in a matrimonial disaster, or on my own with children to provide for. What Chris had never realized was, had we married, he wouldn't have had access to the trust fund anyway. It was protected under an enforced prenup, that could be dissolved after ten years of marriage. I appreciated the wisdom and understood the why.

But, it truly sucked that I was the only one who had to wait years for it. Especially when I had goals…