1. One

One

Carson

I glare at my brothers again, "What the hell do you mean? I need a life. I have a life. Dammit."

Carter, my middle brother, simply raises an eyebrow. While my youngest brother, Chase, who is four years my junior, lets out a snorting laugh. "Carson, you need a personal life," he clarifies, his tone suggesting I'm an imbecile. "Outside of work." My jaw tightens.

"I'm the CEO of this company for a reason," I retort, turning my glare on both of them. "I barely have time to get everything done as it is."

Carter points out, "We could hire a CFO to take care of all the paperwork and projections. That alone could take a lot off your plate. Leaving you to steer the company in the right direction."

"Thank you, Carter," I cut in dryly. "But the last time we hired someone, they were completely incompetent."

"And we understand that, but it's been a couple of years, and we think you should try again."

"I'll think about it," I mutter in a grumpy voice. I hold up my hand when they both look like they want to say more. "This is the end of our conversation. You can see yourselves out."

"Alright, Carson. Listen, we're going to try to get together at Wild Rider's this Friday. You up for it?" I see the hint of a challenge in their eyes.

"Sure. I'll be there. Around seven?"

That seems to appease them—for now. As they nod and then slowly leave my office.

After they're gone, I swivel my chair so I can look out my grand picture window. It gives me a magnificent view of the St. John's River as it meanders through Jacksonville on its way to the ocean. I have the best view in the building, and I know it. In fact, I planned it that way. I hand-picked this space on the second floor just for this view when the building was being built.

I let out a sigh as I idly track the slow-moving water. I know my brothers are right, but I won't tell them that. It has been a while since I've stepped away from the responsibilities here at work. It's been years since my last vacation. And I haven't hit the open road on my motorcycle in weeks. That used to be my temporary escape, but this last month has been hectic. By the time I get home, I normally just crash and unwind with a glass of scotch.

Absently, I pick up a pen, turning it over in my fingers as I continue gazing out the window. The rhythmic motion mirrors the swirling thoughts in my mind. Both of my brothers have recently found love, and now they're eager for me to share in their bliss. It's a shift from just Mom's well-meaning nudges – now Chase and Carter are pushing me to find someone special.

They know I haven't had the time or inclination for a real relationship. All I have the time for these days is fleeting connections—meaningless hookups.

The truth is, I never wanted the picket fence and a two-car garage. Never met a woman who ignited a spark strong enough to consider settling down… That's a lie ; I hear the whisper in the back of my mind.

There was one. Her image surfaces even after all these years – thick chestnut hair framing clear gray eyes that seemed so innocent, so trustworthy. Eyes that lied and deceived me in a way that left a gaping wound.

The sting of betrayal flares anew, a bitter reminder. Damn her. She practically ruined me for anyone else. I shove the memory back, burying it deep within the guarded corners of my heart. It was a long time ago, a harsh lesson learned. I haven't let anyone close enough to risk getting hurt like that again.

I lean back in my desk chair as I think back over the recent years. No other woman has captured my attention long enough for me to try and make time for her in my busy schedule.

After my father died, I took over the business. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders, pushing me to build it into the multi-billion-dollar company it is today. Funny, but the first billion was the hardest. After that, the business just kept its momentum, and now it's one of the most successful security companies in the nation. A fact that I am immensely proud of. I'd like to think my father would be proud of what I've accomplished. He groomed me for this role from a young age, ensuring the family legacy continued.

My brothers and I are all involved in the security industry. Chase trains our security guards, and Carter heads up our newest division of elite bodyguards. Even though travel used to be Carter's lifeblood, he committed to staying in town long enough to get the recruits trained and the entire division operational. He seems to have settled down a bit since finding Kat and putting a ring on her finger.

Chase and Val just had their first child—a daughter. I shake my head because I never would have thought Chase would end up a family man. But he seems content. Dammit, both my brothers do. While I—I'm not sure what I want anymore.

I swivel my chair away from the picture window. The river view is suddenly uninspiring, as it's doing little to diminish the growing sense of restlessness gnawing inside me. I'm bored with my current predictable lifestyle that doesn't leave room for anything or anyone else.

I'm weary of the same routine, the same empty nights, the same—emptiness. But what do I want? I can't even answer that question, as the ‘what' remains frustratingly just out of reach. Lately, I've been craving something—different. I run my fingers through my hair as I scoff. Hell, I don't even know what different looks like.

I lean my elbows on my desk and turn toward my laptop and the never-ending emails awaiting my attention, pushing my contemplative thoughts away for now.

Suzanne, my admin, buzzes my desk phone. "Carson, there's a young man downstairs asking to see you."

"Did he say what he wants?"

"No, Clara at the reception desk just buzzed me. She did say she thought you should see him, but she didn't mention why."

I frown; Clara has been with the company since I was a boy. I trust her instincts. "Fine. Send him up."

I'm reading the first email when my admin knocks softly on the door. "Carson, the young man is here to see you."

"Alright, thanks."

As she turns away, a young, raw-boned boy with a backpack slung over his shoulders stands hesitantly in the doorway. But his eyes are boring holes in me. There's an unsettling familiarity about him: his dark hair and brows, the blue of his eyes. I feel like I should know him.

"Are you Carson Knight?" He bluntly asks.

"Yes," I give him a cool look as I take in his jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes, mentally cataloging every detail. "What brings you to Knight Security?"

I watch as he shuffles into my office. Instead of looking around, his gaze remains fixed on mine.

"You're my father."

I just about choke on a cough, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You're my father." He says it with utter conviction. He puts his hand in his back pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. He shoves it at me as he says defensively, "That's what the DNA testing shows."

He walks toward my desk. I reach out, take the paper, and calmly read it over. Ever since our company was featured in Billionaire Tech magazine, all kinds of crackpots have made baseless claims.

"This report says there's a high probability that I'm your father." I point out dryly as I raise an eyebrow at him. "What's your mother's name, Boy?"

"My mom is Anna Johnson."

The blood drains from my face, and I suddenly feel light-headed. "Anna Johnson, is your mother?" I repeat in a stunned voice.

"Yeah." That's all he says, but he watches my face closely. Too closely. He probably saw how his words affected me. I'm suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

"I have her picture," he says with a defensive lift of his chin. He walks over to a chair and slings his backpack onto the seat. Then he turns toward me as he pulls out his cell phone. He swipes a few times on the screen and turns the screen toward me.

I reach out with an unsteady hand. It looks like a recent picture or maybe just a few years old. Anna is standing behind the boy with a wide smile on her face, her hand on his shoulder. She looks—like a proud mother. My head swims, and I close my eyes for a minute.

"Hey, mister, you ain't gonna faint or something. Are you?" It sounds like he might be concerned.

I shake my head, but there's a ringing in my ears, so I gulp in a few quick breaths.

I look up, and the kid's eyes watch me closely. I give him a wan smile. "Why don't you sit down?"

He nods again and steps backward. Without removing his gaze, he slides the backpack to the floor and sits, all while maintaining eye contact. It's a little unnerving.

Neither one of us speaks for a few moments. I do the math and look at him with a cocked eyebrow, "How old are you?"

"I'm ten."

"You look older," I state quietly.

"Yeah." Another shrug.

"Where is your mother?"

Finally, I see a crack in his demeanor. He wipes his palms over his knees, a sign of nervousness.

"She doesn't know I'm here." His eyes drop to the floor. "I skipped school to find you."

"Where do you live?" I ask him slowly, trying to recover.

"We just moved to Orlando a few days ago. We're from Ft. Lauderdale."

"So, how did you get here?" I ask, curious.

He looks uncomfortable at my question, "I took the bus. Alone."

"I wouldn't think you could travel alone. I thought you had to be thirteen—"

He sighs, "Nah. You have to be twelve, but I'm tall for my age. They believed me." He shrugs.

Ten and taking a bus alone, I think to myself; a wave of surprise and concern washes over me. This kid's got guts, that's for sure. I run my eyes over him again, checking him out. He is indeed tall for his age if he's only ten. But then, so was I when I was his age.

I glance at my watch. It's eleven thirty. "I think we should call your mother."

He gives me a stubborn look, but I can see a glint of worry behind his eyes. "I will. But I… um… I wanted to see you. Talk to you first."

I nod. I can tell the boy is not done, so I don't try to rush him.

"Did you know about me?" As he asks the question, his chin comes up, and I can tell he's trying to act like it doesn't matter, but I see the look of vulnerability in his eyes.

So, I tell him the truth. "No. If you are my son…" I take a deep breath. I'm only learning about it now from you."

That appears to satisfy him, and he gives a quick nod.

"If your mother thinks you're at school. When will she be expecting you? I don't want her to worry."

He suddenly frowns, and I can tell the thought of his mother worrying about him bothers him; he tries to cover it up with a shrug.

"The school bus drops off at three thirty."

"I think we need to call her," I state more firmly. I wait as he thinks it over.

"Alright," he agrees with a bit of reluctance. With his phone in his hand, he just sits there looking down at it.

I stand and walk over to him. "Do you want me to call her?"

"Yeah, would you?" He hands over his phone willingly with a relieved twist of his lips.

I take the phone, and in his favorites, I see ‘Mom.' Before I make the call, I look down at him. "What's your name?"

"Connor." And then, in a move that surprises me, I reach down and place my hand reassuringly on his shoulder.