5. Luke

Icurled my toes in the cool sand and watched my coworkers mimic how to stand up on a surfboard for a small cluster of late-season tourists. Well, former coworkers now, at least until I figured out how to escape the situation I found myself in. I'd worked as an instructor for Cape Avalon Water Sports nearly ten years now. My winters were spent at the South Shore Bookshop, where a decent chunk of my paycheck went to purchasing new thrillers and used paperbacks.

But it was just easier this way, taking a leave of absence from both until I could wrangle my life back to normal.

My bosses had been stunned at the news, but I'd mustered up my cheeriest smile, even as a rising tide of dread filled my body. The dread of being back in that office, back in that house, surrounded by people who believed my father had been a genius. Tasked with running a company I knew nothing about and had absolutely no interest in.

The sharp, panicky fear I got whenever I found myself ensnared in Dad's many mind games. And this one—Surprise! I left my legacy to the son I despise!—was the most fucked-up one yet.

A set of waves curved into beautiful barrels, shimmering beneath the mid-September sun. This was the beginning of every local's favorite time of year—when the beaches emptied, the crowds thinned, the streets quieted. I watched a surfer dip low beneath one of those barrels and felt a harsh yank behind my sternum. It was pure yearning, to be back in the ocean where I belonged, where I'd always belonged.

Weather-permitting, my mother had started every morning with a brisk swim in the ocean on the beach behind the estate. She'd taught me the ocean was an escape, a liberation from whatever plagued us on land. And I'd sought that liberation in as many ways as I could—in cages, surrounded by sharks. On Jet Skis and speedboats and wakeboards.

Mom had been dead for years by the time I came out to my father, foolishly walking into his office and declaring, as proudly as I could, that I was bisexual. Foolish because I'd expected compassion, or at the very least curiosity, from a man who'd shown me neither. He hadn't even looked up from the file he'd been reading. Simply said, "I don't care what the hell you call yourself, Lucas, as long as you marry a woman."

After, I'd done what my mother taught me—sought out the sea. I'd surfed till well past dark, crying rage-y, teenaged tears through most of it.

"Uncle Luke!" a tiny voice to the left of me shrieked.

That was the only warning I got before my nieces barreled into me on the sand, knocking me off my feet. I opened my eyes, squinting into the sun, and found my half sister, Harriet, beaming down at me.

Laughing, I rose onto my elbows while Lizzie and Rory scrambled close for a hug, looping their small arms around my neck. "Now isn't this the best kind of surprise."

Harriet kicked off her shoes and joined me on the beach, reaching over to tickle Lizzie until she squealed. Rory was already examining a buried seashell. They were four and two, respectively, and looked just like their mother.

"You'd mentioned coming by here to hand in your notice and we happened to be in the area," Harriet said, nudging her shoulder against mine. "We thought Uncle Luke could use a hug."

Lizzie snuggled in closer to me, placing her tiny palm against my chin.

"You thought correctly." I turned to look at Harriet. Her long, hot pink hair was in a high bun and her colorful tattoos danced up both bare arms. "Thanks, sis. It's appreciated."

She scrunched up her nose. "You still owe me details from the will reading. Given that you're quitting today, I'm guessing something's up."

"Technically, you still owe me details about the cute bartender from Thursday night."

"Oh, you mean Kat?" She gave a shrug. "We've been texting."

My eyebrows shot up. "And?"

"And…she's beautiful and funny and totally down to date a single mom. I'm seeing her this weekend."

Rory toddled over and presented me with the seashell she'd found. "Of course she's down to date you," I said. "Want me to babysit? I can order pizza and we can watch Encanto for the eleventh time. I'll cry all the way through it, also for the eleventh time."

Harriet wrapped me in a bear hug that almost toppled me over again. "We're so lucky to have you, Luke."

I held on to her for longer than usual, finally realizing how much I'd needed my sister. We'd first met when I was eighteen and she was sixteen, after she'd found me on social media and sent a message: I know this sounds totally random but I think you're my half brother? Would you ever want to get coffee and talk about it?

The Beaumonts held a kind of celebrity status in the Hamptons, so it wasn't the first time I'd received messages from complete strangers claiming to know secrets about my family. About my father. I'd known the truth of him by then. Knew that he'd been cheating on my mother, even during the year before she died.

So when Harriet sent a blurry picture of my dad, sixteen years younger, posing with her mom at some boozy-looking boat party, a sick curiosity had me replying, I'd love to meet up.

Harriet became the sibling and best friend I'd always wanted, connected by our shared queerness, our mutual disdain for our dad, our persistent loneliness. Dad had a years-long affair with Lois, Harriet's mom. When he found out Lois was pregnant, he abandoned her, refusing any contact and ignoring her many requests for him to meet his daughter.

And he provided not a single cent in financial support. Lois had only been able to afford to live in the famously wealthy Hamptons because she worked for a family in Southampton that allowed her and Harriet to stay in one of the small guest houses on the estate. My sister was keenly aware of my family's exorbitant affluence while her mother barely had enough money to pay bills each month.

After living in upstate New York for a few years, Harriet had moved back into that same guest house with her daughters to take care of Lois, who'd been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. And while the family she'd worked for was sympathetic to what Lois was going through, Harriet worried they'd lose their housing soon.

"Something bad happened at the reading, didn't it?" Harriet asked softly, pulling back to study my face.

I blew out a long breath. "Dad left TBG to me. Left it to me with a whole bunch of weird and manipulative strings attached if I don't do as ordered. The board is pissed at Dad, but also at me, mostly just for existing. Preston's plotting my grisly murder as we speak."

Her mouth dropped open. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit."

"That's what I said."

"But why?" she asked.

"Who knows?" I raked a hand through my hair. "He used to do stuff like this to me and Preston all the time, but on a smaller scale. Apparently he made this change three months ago, which I had absolutely nothing to do with. Not that anyone believes me."

She made a sympathetic sound, and I flashed her a grin. "I'll be okay, I promise. I took your earlier advice and booked a bungee jump appointment starting in"—I glanced at my watch—"twenty minutes. A little bit of adrenaline-soaked euphoria will clear my head and help me figure out how to get out of this mess."

Harriet chewed on her bottom lip, reaching across me to brush sand from Rory's hair. Rory stuck her tongue out, dropped another shell into my palm, then sprinted back toward the makeshift sandcastle she was building.

"Maybe…maybe this isn't the worst thing," she said softly. "What if you made TBG better? Developed something other than luxury housing and fancy shopping malls? You know what it's like for us right now. The family Mom used to work for is well within their rights to ask us to leave that guest house at any moment. And there isn't anywhere I can afford here on a single parent's salary."

I grabbed her hand and squeezed. "I'd never let anything bad happen to you. You know that, right?"

She squeezed back. "I do, and I love you for it. But not everyone has a rich brother providing a safety net. There's a way to fix things around here and you could be a part of that. If anyone could do it, it'd be you."

I sent her a look. "You're sweet to suggest it, but I don't want it, Harry. Not one piece of it. It's all wrapped up in continuing Lincoln Beaumont's legacy, which you and I know is complete bullshit. I won't do it."

Understanding dawned on her face. "What are the weird and manipulative strings attached?"

I paused. "Failure to comply means I don't inherit my trust fund. Which is not an option."

"Oh, Luke." She winced. "Please…please don't do anything on my behalf. I'm being completely serious here. This is just another way for Lincoln to control you from the grave. We can find another way. We can."

I was already shaking my head. "We're in this together, sis. I'm gonna find a way out and keep the trust. There's gotta be a loophole; I just haven't found it yet." I pressed my chin into Lizzie's soft curls. "Everything goes to you and your daughters. That's still my plan."

Harriet and her mother had struggled their entire lives. And now my sister was back home, providing long-term care to Lois while astronomical medical bills piled up around her. And Harriet's ex-husband paid little in child support. As per Beaumont family tradition, I'd received a large sum of money upon graduating from college, with the expectation I'd use it to secure a business degree before coming back to work at TBG.

I'd done neither—I'd bought my house instead and given most of the remainder to Harriet and my nieces.

My trust fund was the final thing tying me to that family. Once Rory's and Lizzie's futures were secure, I could say goodbye to the Beaumonts for good.

My sister slowly pushed to stand, ruffling my hair before calling Rory back. "We should let you go make that bungee appointment. But I want you to know…I think you're making a mistake. Walk away from all of it, Luke. You already do so much for us, have already paid for so much. We love you regardless, and I know…I know what being back at that house is like for you. The trust isn't worth it."

I swallowed past a knot in my throat. "If I walk away, he wins. And I can't let that happen, Harry. Besides, that trust fund is your money. Money he rightfully owed to your mother, money he owed to your childhood. I'll be fine; you don't have to worry about me."

Her shoulders slumped in response, but then her eyes sharpened toward a point past my shoulder. "Um…an extremely handsome man in a suit is staring at you, Luke."

Curious, I followed her gaze to find Elijah Knight standing in front of a sedan with one hand clasped around the other wrist, stone-faced.

"Fuck me, that's my dad's bodyguard. Technically, my bodyguard, though I fired him yesterday."

"Luke," my sister warned.

I rose to my feet, handing her a sleepy Lizzie. "I don't need twenty-four seven protection. It's over the top."

She pinned me with a glare. "We're tabling this discussion since I quite like you alive and not kidnapped." Then she cocked her head, examining Elijah again. "Though I can see why you wouldn't want that man, specifically, shadowing you all day."

"Because he looks like he believes having fun should be punishable in a court of law?"

Harriet snorted. "No, because he's absurdly hot."

I stole a glance at the man in question. The sheer force of Elijah Knight's good looks hadn't been lost on me yesterday.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," I said airily, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks again for the surprise, sis. I needed it."

She hefted Lizzie onto her shoulder and I swept a giggling Rory up in a fast hug before she ran to catch Harriet's hand. "This conversation isn't over. Neither of them." A pause, then she called back, "Love you more than summer sunrises!"

"Love you more than winter sunsets," I said with a grin.

I waited until they were safely in their car before turning toward Elijah, acutely aware of his focus on me. This bodyguard was all coiled and brooding danger in a bespoke suit. Big and broad shouldered, with strong brows over his dark eyes. Eyes that clocked my every movement as I sauntered up to him.

The sun highlighted the shades of auburn in his brown hair and the very beginnings of gray at his temples. This close, it was obvious his nose had been broken before. And a web of scarring traced the curve of his right cheekbone.

Elijah had a jawline that could cut glass. Clean-shaven and subtly flexing with what I assumed was irritation.

"Are you following me?" I asked, slipping on my sunglasses.

"Our contract is still in place for another week," he replied. "I'm fully prepared to demonstrate the value of what we can provide for you. Respectful, elite, discreet protection that ensures your safety without impinging upon your daily life."

I cracked a smile. "So that's a yes on the following?"

His jaw flexed again. "I'm aware of your location at all times, Luke."

I glanced at my watch, noting the time. "I walked here, so was gonna call a cab, but I do need to be somewhere."

"Where?" he asked, opening the back passenger-side door.

"The Harbor Adventure Park. I've got a bungee jump appointment that starts in ten minutes."

Elijah stilled. "You have an appointment to…bungee jump?"

"Yep." I rubbed my palms together. "Is there a problem?"

His response was an arrogantly arched eyebrow. "I'll have you there with a minute to spare."

"That's a bold claim," I said, sliding into the dim interior.

He didn't waste time. We were moving the second I latched my seat belt, his large hands sure and confident on the wheel as he turned down a back road.

A glass partition started to rise between the front and back seats.

"What the hell is happening?" I asked.

"This is a high-security vehicle. That's protective glass. Bullet proof."

I scoffed. "You're telling me that if a bullet flies through that windshield, it'll ricochet off the glass and hit you instead?"

"There are risks to this job," he replied. "That is one of them."

"Dude, we don't know each other well enough for you to take a bullet for me. I'm literally in the process of firing you."

His fingers clenched, just slightly, on the wheel. "I take my job seriously. Now, may I raise the glass?"

"You may not," I said mildly. "This shit makes me uncomfortable. If I had security, I wouldn't treat them like…like weird, silent robots here to do my bidding."

Silence. Then, "I imagine your family had staff who worked for you when you were growing up?"

My face flushed. Staff was an understatement. We had nannies and personal chefs and gardeners. A myriad of assistants at my father's beck and call. At my beck and call, by default.

"We did," I said reluctantly. "Doesn't mean I liked it then either."

His eyes briefly met mine in the rearview mirror and the flash of skepticism there only deepened my blush.

I cleared my throat. "You must have been close to my father, right? You worked with him for five years."

I could see the park in the distance. Elijah was smoothly passing slower cars, though I would bet he still managed to stay below the speed limit.

"That's not the nature of the relationship we have with clients," he said. "It's professional. Most don't converse with us either. In fact, silence is often preferred."

I tipped forward in my seat. "You shadow a guy every single day…and you're not friends?"

"Of course not."

"Friendly?"

"No."

Elijah turned into the parking lot, coasting to a smooth stop. The jump platform rose up before us and I could just make out the bungee team huddled in the center. Dual bursts of fear and anticipation zipped down my spine so quickly I got lightheaded.

With perfect posture, Elijah rounded the front of the car to open my door. I unfolded from my seat and checked my watch.

"Nine minutes, eleven seconds. Not too bad."

Another modest lift of that eyebrow. "It was eight minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Your watch is off, sir."

A different kind of thrill zipped along my spine, and I wondered what it would feel like to have such a focused man by my side, intent on studying my every movement.

Wondered what, if anything, ever made Elijah Knight lose that finely honed control.