1. Windsor

CHAPTER 1

Entering the bank on Fifth Avenue, I anticipate the meeting won't go as I want. For almost a year, I've been grieving and processing the loss of my mother. If it weren't for her excellent business sense and her life insurance, I would be homeless. Thankfully, I've had the time I need and am finally out and in the working world again.

If only I could get this mortgage broker to release the title of Mom's condo. I'm selling it to move to a loft in Manhattan. I hate being in the apartment all alone; the memories are suffocating.

"Windsor?" I turn at the sound of my name being called to find Boston Falco sitting in the waiting room. Six months ago, I hired him and his partner, Dare Waters, to find the sisters Mom told me about seconds before she died.

"Hi, Boston. How are you?" We got close during that time and remain in touch every once in a while. They both proved to be good listeners when I was left to grieve alone.

"I'm good. How are you doing?" He cocks his head to the side, and I can tell he's wondering if I opened the envelope they gave me with my sisters' information.

I haven't. I've not been brave enough to open that door.

"Oh, fine. I'm back in the real world again today. I have an interview with a shipping company later this afternoon. It seems promising." I crack a smile because I'm really looking forward to putting my degree to work.

"Good. We'll catch up soon?" he asks at the same time someone else calls my name.

"Yes, I'd like that. I'll see you later." He nods, and I notice a pretty girl come out of an office and over to him. Her face shows both annoyance and desire. I'm not surprised. Boston is a handsome man; any girl who landed him or Dare would be very lucky.

"Mr. Turncoat, thank you for seeing me." I greet the broker I've only spoken to on the phone. I dealt with someone else when I signed all the paperwork to have Mom's possessions transferred into my name—which is a huge reason why I don't understand what the problem is now.

"I'm sorry we haven't been able to settle this sooner. The problem lies with an outstanding debt the late Mrs. James had. It was never paid in full," he explains, shifting through some papers on his desk.

"What does that mean? Why was this not mentioned when everything was put into my name?" This makes no sense.

"That I'm not certain of. But if you could just pay the loan, we can get everything ready to sell within the month." He grins as he pulls out what he is looking for and hands it to me.

Reading everything over, I learn that the company is a mechanic shop that went out of business nearly four years ago. "This company has closed." I gaze up at him. They won't be looking to collect; it's not even registered with a collection agency.

"Yes, but the lien is there, so it has to be paid before the bank can remove it."

"I'll get it figured out myself," I reply and snap up the other paperwork I see with my name and the word ‘copies' on it. "I'll call you once this is taken care of." I leave, not giving him time to respond; I'm almost late for my interview.

Pinching the inside of my wrist as I walk briskly out of the bank, I wait for the tears to abate before heading towards the subway. I hate having the urge to cry when I've been focusing on moving on with my life. My mother was all I had, and at every turn, I'm left floundering. Every step in the right direction, I get knocked back three more.

Heading down into the subway, I arrive just as the train pulls up, and I slip through the doors in time, so I shouldn't be late for my interview. I really need for this to happen with Graham Shipping I don't need it on my clothes as well.

As we arrive at my stop, I must hurry, or I'll be late. Running in heels isn't as easy as Claire in Jurassic World makes it look. Of course, I'm not running from a dinosaur about to eat me either, so maybe that's the problem.

Reaching street level, I'm pleased to see that the building is just across the street. Smoothing out my skirt and straightening my jacket, I slow my steps in order to gain some semblance of control again; however, that same control bites the dust as the sky unleashes a torrent of rain, soaking me to the bone before I've even made it into the road. "Of fucking course," I mutter as I run, breaking a heel and nearly flying through the plate glass window of the building I'm about to enter.

Abandoning the messed-up shoe, I limp my way inside, certain that I resemble a drowned rat, and search out a bathroom to regain some composure. There isn't one because that's my luck.

The guard at the security desk eyes me cautiously, as though he can't see that it's pouring outside. "Can I help you?" I notice he's got a finger hovering over a call button on his desk that I'm sure will summon more guards.

Pasting on my best smile, I pretend I don't look like some sewer creature. "I have an interview with Tanner and Tucker Graham; my name is Windsor James."

He visibly relaxes. "Of course. I'll just need your ID, and I have a pass for you. Washroom is to the right once you're off the elevators on the fourteenth floor."

"Thank you." Breathing comes easier, knowing that I can clean up a bit first. After getting everything worked out, I'm in the elevator car alone and on my way up.

Slipping out, I head into the bathroom after receiving a pitying look from the older woman at a desk outside what I assume is the Grahams' office.

"Jesus, Winds, you look like a drowned rat." My ebony-brown hair is flat yet frizzy somehow. My mascara is running, and I have bags under my eyes. Using my jacket, I do my best to rub my hair dry before sweeping it up into a conservative bun. Grabbing some paper towels, I work at washing away the black rings staining my eyes and cheeks. By the time I'm finished and feel about halfway presentable, I've got thirty seconds to get my butt out there. Nothing can be done about the broken heel, so I Barbie up and pretend like I'm not hanging on by a thread.

Tanner

"She here yet?" I buzz Kathleen, our retiring office manager. The woman wants to spend more time with her grandkids and husband. I can't fault her, but I can be annoyed about it.

"Yes. She's just freshening up. The rain came out of nowhere. Be nice." Her snark won't be missed.

Fuck it. Yeah, it will. Kathleen has kept us on our toes for years. She's a magician in our office. If not for her, we wouldn't be half as organized as we are—especially when it comes to international deals.

"She's never worked at this level before," my twin brother, Tucker, grumbles from his desk. Ever since Kathleen suggested it, he's been dismissive about hiring someone new, someone without experience.

"We want someone long-term, Tuck. Last thing anyone wants is to train someone new again in a couple of years," I remind him.

He glares at me before looking over the woman's credentials again. She graduated top of her class, made the Dean's List every term, and according to her references and what we've found about her on paper, Windsor James is smart, determined, and reliable.

There's a knock on the door before Kathleen opens it and leads an attractive young woman in.

Damn.

I never had the urge to claim a woman as soon as I met her, but this woman could change that. She's a beautiful creature. Dark hair tied up at the back of her head, curvy in all the right places, full pouty lips, and clever eyes that see more than she lets on.

"Windsor, this is Tanner and Tucker Graham. Don't worry about telling them apart; I don't think they know who is who half the time." I spear Kathleen with a glare. I definitely want this woman to know who I am.

"Thank you, Kathleen," Tuck snaps, making the older woman raise a brow at him. Clearly, he's as confused about his reaction as I am. I suspect our feelings are similar. We've always had the same taste in women.

"Miss James, please have a seat." I indicate to the chairs in front of our joined desks.

"Thank you." She manages a halfhearted smile. "I apologize for looking a mess; I was not expecting that rain." Her hazel eyes shift to the window behind us. It's nearly impossible to see across the street because of what a downpour it is.

"Don't worry about it. Can't control everything." I shoot my brother a look—much as he'd like to. "We've spoken with your references, gone over your transcripts, and on paper, we believe you're a perfect candidate." Her smile is breathtaking. "However, there's quite a large gap between your college graduation and now. Can you fill in that time for us?"

Windsor pales, and I want to rescind the question, but we need to know that she's not just going to up and disappear on us at some point for whatever reason that caused her to straight out of college.

Clearing her throat, she crosses and uncrosses her legs before answering. "The day I received my final exam marks, my mother died after an aggressive and exhausting battle with lung cancer." I can see she has trouble speaking, so I get up and grab her a water from the fridge we keep in here. "Thank you." She graces me with a smile that goes straight to my cock before I sit back down.

"We're sorry for your loss." Tucker surprises me with how sincere his words are.

She nods and continues. "It was always just Mom and me, so when she died, it felt a bit like I lost a piece of myself as well. I've struggled with accepting that she's gone, and then having to deal with everything else by myself. It's been a hard year." I can see how hurt she is to be left all alone in the world, and I have the urge to tell her she'll never have that feeling again.

"No other family to help?" I can't imagine that.

"No. My father is, well, useless. I found out I have two younger half-sisters, but I haven't tried to reach out yet. I wanted to dig myself out of the grief and at least appear to have my life together before trying." Damn. This girl's strength is something else.

"Thank you for your candor. I can't imagine how hard things have been."

"Why do you think you'd be a good fit here?" Tucker jumps in. I can see he's pissed about something, but I don't know what. "Why should we give you, with no experience, a shot rather than someone who's been in the field for years."

She's sharp and doesn't hesitate. "For that exact reason. I know the programs, I know the layout, but I haven't been trained to do things someone else's way. I'm not set in some routine that might not jive with yours. You or Kathleen can teach me exactly how you like things done, and I guarantee you won't have to tell me twice. I don't have someone else's habits ingrained in me yet. I'm fresh meat, so to speak." I admire her confidence.

Sharing a look with Tucker, it's clear he's also impressed with her answer. And she's right; if there's anything we hate, it's breaking bad habits and having to reteach how we want things done.

"Can you dictate?" She nods. "Will you have a problem working more than one job at a time?"

"Not at all. I was attending classes while working and taking care of my mother. Managing my time is something I excel in. I'm organized and can't stand a mess. I won't let you down." For whatever reason, it feels like she means more than the job.

"We'll let you know," Tucker says, standing up and offering her a hand. "Thank you for coming in when the weather is so miserable. Can we offer you a car home?"

Out of sorts at the abrupt end to the interview, she shakes our hands and accepts the car home. Even Kathleen is surprised we're done so quickly. We've conducted eight interviews so far, each lasting an hour or more. Something is up with my brother.

Tucker

I liked her.

Too fucking much.

More than either of us should. And I knew that Tanner was in the same boat. We've always had an uncanny ability to tell what the other was feeling, and we were both feeling Windsor James. The woman is a natural beauty with decadent curves that had my mouth watering. I was dying to get my hands on her, and my inner demon damn near won.

"What the hell?" Tanner stares at me, confused by my dismissal of her.

"She can't work here," I respond. If she does, we'll never get anything done. We'll spend all our time trying to get into her pants, and we don't have time for that shit.

"Why the hell not?" my brother barks, crossing his arms defensively. He will fight me on this, but it can't happen.

"Because once we fuck her and she realizes it's a one-time thing, we'll have to fire her." I won't back down.

"What the fuck? Why do you assume we're going to fuck her, let alone it be a one-and-done?" Apparently, he isn't going to either.

"Women don't want this for life." I wave my hand between us.

"When did you become so jaded?" Dropping into his chair, Tanner proceeds to ignore me for the rest of the afternoon, and I can't even blame him.

I don't know when I convinced myself that a woman wouldn't want our kind of relationship. Sharing a woman is something we've done since our teens. There was never any doubt that when we grew older and settled down, we'd wind up with the same woman. But for whatever reason, Windsor has me out of sorts and making me doubt that something permanent could be real and lasting.

Reading over her resume again, I do a quick general search of her on social media. No Facebook account, but I found an Instagram set to private. Clicking the follow button, I'm immediately rejected and begin to fume. Nobody fucking rejects me. It's always the other way around.

"Bro, you listening to me?" Tanner's annoyed tone causes me to look up at him.

"What?" I fire back at him. This girl already has us pitted against each other.

"I asked if you received the report from the lawyers for the financials on that warehouse you want to buy?" Clicking into my email, I locate it, my eyes glazing over as I read. I fucking hate financial shit.

"We good?" I ask instead. Tanner understands these things better than I do.

"I'm low-balling the offer. The structure needs more work than they were advertising. If they accept that, then we're good." His glare deepens as I make a sound of agreement and hit follow on Insta again. She'll accept me one way or another, dammit.

Slamming a hand down on his desk, Tanner barks out, "We're fucking hiring her, and you're going to behave, or I'll throw your ass out that fucking window." Leaving our shared office, he slams that door, too.

"Drama queen," I mutter as my phone beeps.

Tan: You're fucking worse.

A bark of amusement escapes me. Of course, he'd know I said that

even though he didn't hear it. Asshole.

Tan: Shut the fuck up asshole.

Me: Fine. Hire her but the first time she fucks up she's fired.

As soon as I hit send, I picture the shit-eating grin on his face. Tanner loves nothing more than getting his own way.