Chapter 1

Ten years later…

Kellan leanedinto the cushioned seat in the front row of the massive megachurch, gripping his daughter's hand and eyeing Emma seated next to her. His wife hid her red-rimmed eyes behind big, dark sunglasses, wringing a handkerchief between both gloved hands. She was a vision in black, her long, strawberry-blond hair coiled in an updo, giving her a regal appearance.

He scanned the packed church behind them, filled to the rafters. Emma's father was ever the showman, going out on his own terms. He'd scripted every aspect of the service, from the style of casket to the type of flower. Who was invited. Who wasn't. Leave it to the Marshall Emmett Shelby II to make one last spectacle. Thousands of mourners filled the auditorium.

The Shelby Family was infamous. Great-great-great-grandfather Shelby had been a ruthless and cruel robber baron, going from penniless to amassing a huge fortune before he died at the wizened old age of one hundred. His eldest son had almost lost it all by gambling, drinking, and women. Had he not died and his younger brother stepped in, the legacy would've ended there. Later, Emma's grandfather had added luxury retail to the list of other business ventures in their portfolio, targeting their merchandise to the uberwealthy with deep, deep pockets. Add in the collective rumors of backstabbing, affairs, illegitimate children, drug use, and mental illness and it was type of family drama the world had been enamored by for generations.

Marshall had stirred the interest higher by going to Hollywood in the late sixties, assuming his family's wealth would buy him starring roles in big-budget productions. He hadn't been completely wrong, but the roles hadn't been as big as he'd expected. The epic partying, drug use, womanizing, and illegal racing he'd participated in had landed him in gossip magazines, though, particularly the last race where one man had died, and Marshall had come close to it himself. Lying in a hospital bed, Emma's father had "found the Lord." Once released, he'd come home and played the dutiful son, taking control of the family's empire a decade later.

He"d had a better head for business than acting. Under his watch, the company had grown into a billion-dollar global phenomenon. Exclusivity turned rich people into idiots, and Marshall knew how to exploit that. He'd funneled a substantial chunk of that money into the PAC he created, helping to get ultraconservatives like Kellan's father elected. His father had suckled off the Shelby teat for decades.

Emma had added her own bit of drama to the family history during her wild, party days, much to her father's chagrin. She'd played the socialite in her teens and early twenties—and had even shown up in an episode or two of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. She and Khloe had been frenemies, emphasis on the enemies, though Kellan still didn't know exactly why.

All of that history and collective drama was enough to pack the ten-thousand seat church with friends, dignitaries, acquaintances, reporters, and probably a few enemies, too. Speaker after speaker made their way to the podium, proclaiming Marshall a saint amongst men. That wasn't the man Kellan knew. Emma's father had been a racist, homophobic, chunk of Southern-fried trash dressed up in a three-piece suit with a Bible always close at hand. His father-in-law hadn't cared for him because Kellan was a bit too "light in the loafers," as Marshall liked to put it.

His own father had agreed.

While Marshall had spoken so eloquently about loving one's neighbor and treating others with kindness when in church or at public events, that love and kindness was reserved for those who were wealthy, straight, and/or white. Rich, white, straight men, that was, because womenfolk were only there to make babies and tend to the man's needs.

Kellan glanced down at the unexpected, absolutely adored baby he'd made with Emma. Abigail kicked her feet, bored with the pomp and circumstance. At six, he was amazed she'd lasted as long as she had. When she started fidgeting in her seat, he nudged her arm.

She lifted her gaze.

"Need a break?" he whispered.

She nodded vigorously, a growing grin on her sweet face. He rose and urged her toward the door where they made their escape. After a trip to the restroom and a drink from the water fountain, he gazed down at her.

"Lemme see how that cartwheel's coming."

"I'm wearing a dress, Daddy."

"And you've got shorts on underneath," he reminded her.

Her eyes glinted. "Inside?"

He scanned the huge, empty foyer. "Is there a better place than right here?"

She giggled before performing her cartwheel. He applauded. "Not bad. How about another?"

Abigail did cartwheel after cartwheel. When she began to slow, he stopped her, sensing she'd worn off most of her wiggles. "Ready to go back inside?"

"Do we have to?"

He crouched beside her, eye-to-eye. "I know this isn't easy, but Mama needs us right now."

"Why's she so sad? She didn't even like Pawpaw."

He frowned. "When did she ever say she didn't like Pawpaw?" Emma had hated her father but had been careful what she said around Abigail, from his experience.

Abigail followed a curl in the design on the carpet as if it were a tightrope, her gaze rapt on her feet as she traversed it. "She never said it, but I could tell."

"Oh? How could you tell?"

"She always made a face when he came into the room. And her voice got mad. And she fussed at him all the time."

Kellan smiled. "She fussed, hmm?"

"Yeah. Kinda like you do when you're around Grandma and Grandpa."

Kellan winced. When had their baby girl gotten so perceptive? "I love my parents."

"Mama once told Pawpaw she loved him, but she didn't like him very much." Abigail lifted her gaze from her feet. "Do you like your parents?"

Kellan snagged his daughter into his arms, hugging her tight. "I don't know," he said, tickling her. "Do you like your parents?"

Abigail's giggles echoed in the foyer. From farther down, he noticed a few funeral goers had appeared in the foyer and were glaring in disapproval. Excuse me for giving my six-year-old a break from all the sadness inside. He stopped the tickling, sighing inwardly. They didn't need to add more rumors. He could see the tabloid headlines—Senator's Son Celebrates Death of Father-in-Law with Daughter: Wife Stands to Inherit Billions. "Ready to go back in now?"

"I guess," she said rolling her eyes in the exact same way Emma did. Abigail was her mother's mini-me. Kellan had a hard time seeing himself in her at all. When he did, it was usually when she was sad. He ignored what that might say about him.

Opening the door, he led his daughter back inside, where she took her seat beside Emma. Emma grabbed Abigail and dragged their girl onto her lap, hugging her tight. She inhaled Abigail's hair, her lips quirking. She reached out for Kellan's hand and gripped it tight, too.

Sliding into Abigail's empty seat, he changed hands and wrapped his arm around Emma's shoulder. She leaned into his embrace, trembling. They remained like that for the rest of the funeral. When it was over, he handed Abigail over to her nanny and her freedom, while he took his place at his wife's side while masses of mourners approached to offer their condolences.

His mother and father headed that line. His father bypassed him and grasped Emma's hands. "I'm so very sorry for your loss, Emma."

"Thank you, Senator Rhodes."

Kellan bit the inside of his lip hearing the icy tone in his wife's voice. His father wouldn't appreciate his laughter.

"You know you can call me Norman," his father said, smiling. "We're old pals, hmm?"

Emma's lips squeezed into a thin line. "Um-hmm."

Old pals? Right. His father wanted the money Marshall had been funneling into the re-election campaigns to continue flowing. Kellan turned, noticing his mother staring at him through narrowed eyes. She leaned closer. "Is that gray I see dotted in your hair?"

He reached up unconsciously, brushing his hand through.

"You best get that covered up. Your father needs to be seen as young and vital. Having a graying son won't help that." She clicked her tongue. "I swear you don't have the sense God gave a goldfish."

He sighed before forcing a smile. "Yes, mother."

Thanks to his mother's comments, he'd missed most of what his father had said to Emma. After his parents wandered off to network with the crowd, he leaned closer. "What did he want?"

"What do you think?" she murmured back.

Getting through the rest of the attendees took hours. After, they returned home for the repast. They entered their home, full of family and acquaintances, a few strangers, and catering staff, and the expected condolences began all over again. The hours passed slowly, ticking by at a snail's pace. He checked his watch often, counting the minutes.

How much longer would he have to feign sadness for a man he'd despised?

His father sidled up beside him. "I need you to come in as soon as possible and review the opposition reports that just arrived. Help me formulate a game plan for re-election."

"I told you that I wasn't working for you anymore," Kellan murmured. The words ever and again had also been in the mix, but there was no point poking the bear any harder.

"While I accept you no longer wish to work on my staff, I expect you to help with the campaign. It shows family unity."

"I explained the reasons why I wouldn't work for you. Do I need to repeat them?"

"Man up, Kellan. You've organized my last two re-election bids. You know what needs to happen." His father growled. "I'll up the salary."

From nothing to nothing?Kellan clenched his teeth. "You'll have to find someone else."

His father stared silently a moment. "After all I've done for you? You're going to prance away because of a few hurt feelings? I taught you better than that."

Prance. Of course, he said prance.Suppose it could've been flounce. Biting his tongue, he leveled a gaze at his father. "I'm going to walk away because you don't know how to talk to people with respect. Case in point."

"You get what you give, Son."

"Exactly," Kellan snapped.

Norman Rhodes leaned in close, narrowing his eyes. "Fine. You don't want to work for me, I'll find someone better qualified to do it. What I do need from you is this—no slipping into old habits. I don't need another of your rendezvous showing up in the tabloids ahead of voting day."

He'd never live the video down. No matter if a decade had passed or not. "I'm a married man, Dad. I'm a dutiful husband."

"Sure," his father murmured, a hitch to the side of his lips.

Kellan shook his head and walked away before a scene was made. He spent the rest of the repast avoiding another confrontation with his parents. If they slipped closer, he excused himself, and he managed to keep his distance for the rest of the event. When the chaos was finally over, he led Emma to her bedroom and shut the door behind them. Emma collapsed onto her bed, belly down, and shoved her face into a pillow before screaming. She pounded on the bed, letting out a muffled trail of expletives. Kellan leaned back on the door, letting her get it out of her system.

When she rolled over and sat up, a chunk of hair had escaped her updo and curled along her cheek. "It's over, Kel."

"Well, the caterers are still here. You might want to hold any more screaming until they're gone."

"No, I mean… this."

Kellan frowned.

"Mama's gone. Now Daddy. With his stock added to mine, I now have the majority stake in the company and can take his seat as Chairman. I can fire the dead weight and clean house." She grinned. "All our hard work is finally gonna pay off."

"I see the mourning period is over," he replied.

"Come on," Emma said, sighing. "He was a bastard, and we both know it."

"Those tears looked awful realistic today."

Emma scoffed. "I replayed his greatest hits in my head. All the times he was evil incarnate. All the times I was forced to shut up and let him treat me like shit." She shook her head. "Those weren't tears of sadness. It was rage that I'd lost my chance to tell the old man off." She smiled. "But it's over now. I'm no longer under his thumb."

Kellan smiled wryly, wishing he could say the same. While he did his best to keep his parents at arm's length, he was still under his father's thumb. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to pull away far enough.

"I think it's time," Emma said.

"Time for?"

"Time for this fa?ade to end."

Kellan tensed. "You might be free, but I'm not."

"I'll give you whatever it is you need in the divorce settlement. We'll still be a family, and you'll still be my best friend… we'll just be best friends who're free to be with who they want."

"You know I can't do that."

"I'll take care of you."

Kellan scoffed. "I can take care of myself." He'd been forced to work as an intern every summer, from eleventh grade on. Pressured by his father, he'd ended up working on staff after graduating business school at twenty-one. Soon after, he'd been pressed into helping run his father's re-election team.

Until the last election, that is, when he'd quit days before voting began.

Kellan had searched for another position, but his work history and his father's toxic stances on many controversial topics made him persona non grata for the roles he'd really wanted. Only those seeking to use his connection to the Senator seemed willing to make an offer. He refused to be beholden to the man, but ultimately, he'd crumbled under the pressure. One of his father's cronies, Harlan Cross, had offered him a COO position—at the Cross Foundation, the charitable arm of Harlan's vast empire. He"d taken the job, assuming it was the lesser evil.

He'd soon learned working for his father's friend was worse than working for his father. After three years at the Cross Foundation, he was once again at a junction, not sure which way to turn. Sadly, there was little road left ahead.

"I know you can take care of yourself, but when we come out, Harlan's gonna fire you. You know that. Now that I've got control of Daddy's company, we can do what we said we would do when we got married."

They'd agreed to five years. Then they were going to divorce and move on with their lives. Only a night of hard drinking, depression, and desperation had resulted in Abigail and changed those plans. At least they had in his mind. He'd never asked Emma, as it had seemed she was of the same opinion.

Until that very moment.

"Abby needs both parents."

Emma waved off his comment. "You can remain here, and Abby and I will move to the big house. Or vice-versa." They lived on her parents' estate, in a custom home built so he and Emma would remain close. Close enough for her parents to control them. The Shelby's extravagant mansion lay empty, walking distance away. "Whatever works best. Nothing has to change, not really. We've always led somewhat independent lives. Now we can be the people we've always wanted to be."

Yet close wasn't the same as having both parents under one roof. "Nothing will change? Things would change for Abigail. She needs stability. Routine."

Emma rose and crossed her bedroom, stopping a few inches from him. Dark circles ringed her eyes from the lack of sleep. Still, she was beautiful. As beautiful as the day he married her. "Are you going to tell me that you're okay living the rest of your life denying who you are?"

He looked away, unwilling to consider what she was asking.

Emma sought his gaze. When she captured it, she dug deep. "Don't you think we owe it to our daughter to be our authentic selves? To end the cycle of shame and lies?"

Down deep he knew she had a point, but Kellan wasn't ready for the chaos his coming out would cause. It was one thing for the average person to do it but the son of a conservative Texas Senator and the ex-socialite daughter of a conservative mogul? It would be a media frenzy.

Not to mention his father would go on the warpath.

Abigail would be in the middle of that firestorm. While he'd do everything in his power to protect her, he couldn't be everywhere at every minute. Eventually, she would hear the stories spoken about her parents. He didn't want that.

"Emma, I'm thirty-six years old. I don't even know who my authentic self is."

"Isn't it time you met him?"

Tears stung the backs of his eyes. He'd hidden so long that the idea of coming out robbed him of air. His stomach knotted, ready to empty its contents at any second.

"I know it's scary. I know it's going to be hard. I know there's going to be chaos." Emma smiled. "Once the smoke clears, we're free. One big hurdle and we're done."

"We can wait. A few more years. Once Abby is old enough to better understand what's going on."

"I can't live like this another minute!" Emma roared, tears streaming down her face. Her chest rose and fell a few times. "I can't pretend to be someone I'm not. I'm going to lose my mind." She eyed him. "Aren't you exhausted? I'm exhausted."

Pretending? He'd covered for so long that the lie had become his reality. Being an out, gay man seemed foreign. And terrifying.

"Darling,"Emma whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist and sidling closer. "Don't you have needs? I'm fairly confident you haven't been with a man in years… perhaps as long as we've been married."

It had been so long that he wasn't sure he remembered. He thought back to a decade before, on his knees at a men's room gloryhole where he'd nearly gotten caught by police. He hadn't been so lucky missing the reporter's camera.

He hadn't attempted fulfilling that need since, unless counting his own hand or the drawer full of toys he kept close. "I don't know what my father might do if I came out. You know the kind of power he wields."

"We have enough money to keep him and the rest of the world at bay now. As far as your father, he no longer has Daddy in his back pocket. We can be free, Kel."

"We can be free. In a few years. When Abby is older."

Emma sighed. "I promised you five years. I gave you ten. The rest are mine. Mine, Kel. We're not getting any younger."

"You wait until both parents are in the ground and you can waltz free … then stand here expecting me to face what you were too chickenshit to face yourself."

The pain that rose in Emma's face made his stomach hurt worse.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "That was cruel."

"But not altogether wrong," she murmured. A tear slipped down her cheek. "They're gone, and I don't have to face them or their ire. But we both know why I stuck around and played the dutiful daughter."

If they'd disowned her, her inheritance would've gone to her cousin—who was just as bad, if not worse than, her father. He would've continued the legacy of hatred and bigotry—which Emma wanted to end. She spoke of dismantling her father's PAC and changing the entire company atmosphere once she had the reins. He wanted to see that happen.

"I know," Kellan said. He believed in her, too. She would do amazing things with that money. She'd already started in a hundred tiny ways during her father's battle with cancer over the last months. The closure of several overseas sweatshops. A company-wide raise in pay. Better benefits packages. A scholarship fund for employees and their children. With her father gone, she could go even farther.

"I have the money and the power to free us both, babe."

Kellan swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Amanda," Emma whispered, tears shining in her eyes. "She deserves better than to be my mistress. I want to make her my wife."

Guilt bubbled in his chest. Technically, Emma and Amanda had been off-again when Abigail had happened. Too much drink between two miserable people had ended with a bevy of bad decisions. Not that he'd change any of them.

Not if it meant he'd lose Abigail.

Yet, there was a sense of guilt. Emma and Amanda had been on and off for years. He'd expected they'd likely get back together again. They always did.

"Fine. I'll agree to the divorce. I'll stay so I can be close to Abby and attempt not to uproot her entire life. If you want to shout to the world that you're a lesbian, fine. Me? I'm not ready."

"Kel…"

"You'll get what you want. Freedom and Mandy," Kellan said, pulling from her grasp and reaching for the door. "I need to go check on Abby."

It was hard to breathe as he stalked away from Emma.

Easier once he had one of Abigail's hugs. Her hugs could cure any ailment known to man, and oh boy, did he need some of those. He marched her outside into the fresh, spring afternoon, and watched as she played on the custom, lavish jungle gym Emma's parents had commissioned just for her. Her laughter as she raced up the rope ladder was a balm for his soul. She paused on the highest peak, turning to wave at him.

"Hi, Daddy!"

"Hi, Baby," he called. Her smile was infectious, even in his lowest moments. She was the best thing he'd ever done.

Don't you think we owe it to our daughter to be our authentic selves? To end the cycle of shame and lies?

Kellan forced Emma's words from his mind. His freedom would simply have to wait for his own way out. His parents weren't getting any younger, no matter how youthful and virile they made his father out to be. Time would pass, and he'd get his out.

Eventually.

* * *

A month later…

When the chime of a text sounded, Emma grabbed her cell. It was a number she didn't recognize. Reading the first line, she gasped. She stared at the message, doubts hitting her square in the chest. She lifted her gaze to Amanda. "What if I'm wrong about this?"

"What if you're not?" Amanda replied.

Shaking her head and steeling her resolve, she hit the text, opening it.

Elite

Good morning, Mrs. Shelby. This is Kimber from Elite Matching. We were told that you had a special request. If you can outline what it is you require, perhaps we can fulfill that need.

Emma inhaled. Exhaled. How in the world did she explain?

Emma

Hello Kimber. I need someone for my husband. Or rather, soon-to-be-ex-husband.

Elite

Are you looking for help in getting that divorce? I'm afraid that's not one of the many services we provide.

"Shit… she thinks I'm trying to get dirt on Kellan."

Amanda strolled closer and slipped onto the sofa beside her. "Explain it to them, babe."

Emma considered her words a moment.

Emma

I adore my husband. We're best friends and will remain so, even after our divorce.

Elite

Yet you are getting divorced.

Emma huffed.

Emma

Let's just say it was a marriage of convenience.

She thought better and added more.

You know what, no point sugar coating it. It was a lavender marriage.

Elite

Ah, I completely understand. Is your husband aware you're communicating with us on his behalf?

Emma chuckled. No way would Kellan agree to her plan.

Emma

Not exactly.

Elite

I still fear this might not be the right situation for us. We typically work one-on-one with our clients to find what it is they want and need.

Emma hit the speech-to-text button, lifting the phone closer to her mouth. She captured Amanda's gaze, seeking strength. "Please. He's lonely. Even here, with us, I can see it in his eyes and feel it in his heart. He pours himself into raising our daughter. She's the light of our lives. He only sees himself in his role as her father, and he's so much more than that. He needs to be reminded what it feels like to be a man. To want. To be wanted. To be touched. I can't give him those things, but I can seek someone who can. Someone to reawaken him." After re-reading for mistakes, she hit Send.

"Nice," Amanda murmured.

A full minute passed with no response. Emma stared at the screen, willing a text bubble to appear. "Nothing. I think they're out."

"I've never known you to give up that easily," Amanda said.

Emma lifted the phone to her lips again, hitting the speech-to-text function. "I love Kellan. We've known each other since we were children not much younger than our daughter is now. I know him, inside and out. He needs a spark to rekindle the fire inside. I don't know where else to turn. Please help me. Help him."

Emma hit Send and stared at the screen, willing Kimber to reply. Finally, three dots appeared. She let out a sigh of relief, but she still didn't have a yes. "Please, please, help me make this happen," she whispered to the phone.

Elite

I think I might have someone that could help your husband.

"Yes!" Emma cried. Thank you. Emma's face hurt from the smile stretching it.

Emma

What do we do next?

Elite

There's the matter of compensation and then…

Then what?Emma asked herself, frowning.

We'll need to come up with a scenario where your husband will come face-to-face with his date. I'll need your assistance there.

Emma grinned.

Emma

I'll work on that plan and get back to you.

She turned to Amanda, tossing the phone onto the coffee table in front of her. "We need to come up with a scenario to get Kellan outside the US, as far from Texas as we can."

Amanda's smile widened. "Shenanigans. I love it." She tapped the side of her chin. "New Zealand? He loved it there."

"He won't go on a vacation. Not without Abby. This needs purpose. Make him think he has to go."

"Hmmm…" Amanda was silent a moment as Emma wracked her brain. "What about the Lake Como villa?"

"What reason would I have to send him there?"

"You just said last night that you were considering selling it."

"Another of Dad's impulse buys. He bought it, went there once, and never went back. That big old place sitting empty is ridiculous."

"Agreed." Amanda smiled. "You'll need to go discuss the sale with the agent, of course."

"Yeah,"Emma said, frowning. "But what does that have to do with Kellan?"

The lightbulb went on in Emma's head and a smile formed on her lips. Amanda returned the expression.

"Got it?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah. Good idea, babe." She leaned forward and drew Amanda closer. "How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?"

Amanda scoffed. "I don't know, but you are quite lucky."

Emma kissed Amanda, knowing she wasn't deserving. She'd spend the rest of her life making it up to the love of her life.