2. Jamison

Narrowing her eyes at the tiny worm of a man sitting at the conference table, Jamison tried to recall his name. There was most definitely an M in there. Mike? Mark?

It didn't matter. The man was still an idiot.

"You make a valid point, Mike."

"I'm Mark."

It was hard enough to be taken seriously in a room full of penises, but being a female and a Fairweather, made the job extra challenging. Members of her family often came with warning labels, putting most people on the defensive the second any of them even entered a room.

"But let's be real," she continued, standing at the head of the table with sweeping views of Houston's downtown skyline at her back. "The suggestion you just put forth is the exact way of thinking that got us into this mess."

In the rear corner, Rowan McIntyre stood, not bothering to hide his grin. With a leg propped behind him and his tattooed arms crossed over his chest, he was listening to the discussion from a safe distance. She had asked him to sit in on the meeting since the incident currently being debated was all over the internet and social media. As the head of Fairweather's IT department, he could usually end their problems with just a click of a button.

And the situation they were dealing with was quickly getting out of hand.

Having spent the last four years working in the public relations division of Fairweather Holdings, she had learned the distinct difference between the truth and the truth as it was presented to the public. People judged every move a giant corporation made, and if they weren't upsetting one group, they were upsetting another by engaging in counterpoint damage control.

It was exhausting.

The others on the environmental oversight team sitting with Mike-Mark laughed under their breath like they weren't just as guilty. Each member had screwed up big time, approving land clearance on a property Fairweather Holdings acquired as part of their upcoming Georgia development. The project was ready to enter phase one, and this team had given the go ahead on their end without having a proper survey completed.

No, scratch that. One had been completed for the sale, but corners were cut, and the report overlooked an endangered species living on the land. A type of wetland shrimp that couldn't be relocated.

A shrimp.

She never thought she would have a PR problem regarding shellfish, but here she was, on a Friday afternoon, with a bunch of men who felt her concern didn't merit their time.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Jamison thought she probably looked ever the Fairweather as she did. It was a move both her father and half-brother Samuel made often when frustrated.

"Suggesting we fund a seafood restaurant specializing in shrimp dishes, does not send the proper message to the public." Seriously, how did some of these people rise so high in the ranks? "Give me something else."

A man raised his hand, slow and timid. He'd hardly been able to make eye contact with her since she arrived. "What if we build a boardwalk area, but have it surround the section of land impacted by the shrimp?" he asked meekly. "We could create a safe space for the species and not lose out on retail opportunities within the development."

Jamison listened, intrigued by the idea.

"What's your name?"

"Mike."

Great.

Blowing out a breath, she turned to the team lead. Yet another man who sat smiling at her as if she were a child. His name she knew. Harold Willingham III was a long-time employee of Fairweather Holdings.

"Is that possible, or is the shrimp's habitat too big?"

He couldn't stop himself. Harold gave her a once over as she stood next to him in her too high heels. She'd worn them on purpose. Already tall enough to intimidate weak men like poor Harold here, these particular heels placed her at the six-foot mark, and were perfect to rile those already suffering from little dick syndrome.

"Anything is possible," he replied. "Why don't we take time and conduct more research? It's not like this development is anywhere near ready to begin."

It was a good thing Samuel wasn't here to hear this buffoon speak. The project in Georgia had been green lit years ago, but because of pandemics, economic downturns, and every other bit of insanity Mother Nature tried to throw at them—shrimp included—the development had been delayed until recently.

Her brother was ready to leave Florida, having already constructed an impossibly beautiful home for his family to live in while he oversaw the Georgia project. Her sister, Evie, was just as excited to move, as were their two daughters. The last hold-up was the imminent arrival of their third child, and with Evie's due date looming, everyone was getting antsy.

Yes, her sister was married to her brother. Was it messed up? Absolutely. Had she needed time to process the idea? Undeniably.

The Fairweathers were the true definition of a blended family, except whoever tossed them into the mixer decided to press puree instead of blend.

Samuel was her half-brother on her father's side, while Evie was her half-sister on her mother's side. Several years younger than both, Jamison had lost it when she discovered they were secretly in love. For her entire life, neither could stand to be in the same room as the other, but it turned out there was more to the story. One she didn't get the details on until it was over.

Accepting them together hadn't been easy, and she pretended to be good with it at first. Granted, when she found out they had been going through hell. It wasn't until almost a year later, when Evie was ready to pop with baby number one, that Jamison felt herself rolling in her anger all over again. It was embarrassing having to explain, repeating the same script to people every single time.

"Yes, she's my sister, and he's my brother. And yes, they're married."

When she took her position at Fairweather, that seemed to be all anyone could talk about. People whispered or openly asked the most ridiculous questions. Samuel didn't care, and neither did Evie. They were so stupidly in love, what the rest of the world said didn't matter.

But it did to Jamison. Her entire purpose at Fairweather Holdings was to help create an impeccable image for the company. Having the COO married to what was essentially his stepsister was bad for business.

Her father told her to leave it alone. "They're happy," he would say, even though he'd secretly had a problem with it in the beginning too. "Who gives a shit what strangers think."

When it became overwhelming, she thought about distancing herself. Leaving Fairweather and making her own way in the world. As a child, her trust in Evie had been unshakable, and for her to have hidden this monumental thing hurt more than all the gossip and whispers combined.

But then Harper Miranda Fairweather came into the world, and the second Jamison laid eyes on her, she knew she wasn't about to miss out on being the world's best aunt.

Harper turned out to be a serious child. Evie and Samuel had recently placed her in a private Pre-K program, and right away the teacher noticed Harper's high level of intelligence. The school tested her, and as suspected, not only did she look like her dad, but she also had his intellect. With an IQ off the charts, they unenrolled her to seek out a more challenging program.

Harper's younger sister was the exact opposite. Not that Theodora Jean Fairweather wasn't as clever as her older sister. She was just… different. A tiny tsunami of energy and sunshine, Theo brought the party wherever she went, and the party was usually at her bestie's house if he were in town. Benjamin Fairweather wasn't the type of man to play favorites with his grandchildren, but that look that hit his eyes whenever Theo referred to him as her best friend was priceless.

So, yep. That was her family. A pureed pile of messiness.

Jamison wouldn't trade them for anything.

"Answer the question," she snapped at Harold's let's do more research statement. This was her rodeo now, and he needed to learn his place in it. "Or can you not form a simple yes or no answer?"

"It's doable," Mike answered, shuffling through a stack of papers. "I have a mockup. There would need to be a narrow line of foot traffic on the boardwalk, but we could make it one-way to give more space, and it would ensure that guests would pass all shopping and dining venues before exiting."

Harold blinked stupidly, while Jamison grinned. "I would love to look at those. Everyone else can leave."

Surprisingly the group listened, filing out in no time with Rowan already halfway out the door as the room cleared. "Do you want me to stay?"

He paused to hear her answer, hands shoved in his jean pockets. Today he was wearing a dark blue T-shirt instead of his usual black, the material matching the studded piercing in his eyebrow.

Jamison sat next to Mike, looking over his design. There was promise in the work and she shook her head. "No, I'm good, but have your people start planting the idea that we're working with biological researchers on the Georgia project. Then sometime over the weekend, we'll up the chatter to include the boardwalk as if it were a recommendation from the specialists."

"Yes, boss."

Rowan closed the door as he left, and Mike shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was clearly unnerved by them being alone together. It made her want to roll her eyes. People tended to think her position at Fairweather came from not only being the daughter of its owner, but also because of the way she looked. Pale blond hair that hung past her shoulders, its shiny glow accentuating her hollow cheekbones which were as sharp as her tongue. Large, expressive green eyes, full lips painted red on every occasion and the haughty manners Simone had instilled in her made everyone believe she was some sort of rich debutante.

It sucked.

She was no more a debutante than she was a giraffe. It irked her to no end how people automatically thought she was some sort of idiot wrapped in a pretty package and sent to work the front lines of Fairweather.

"These are good," she murmured, flipping through Mike's work. "And that's a genius move to force the foot traffic one way. We need to show your ideas to Samuel ASAP."

Mike's mouth flapped open. If she recalled correctly, he was new to the company, but obviously already understood it wise to be a little nervous when dealing with her brother. Evie's current pregnancy was more complicated than her others, and Samuel was on edge.

"Do you think so?"

Jamison nodded. "If you wouldn't mind shooting them over to my email, I'll see that both Samuel and my dad look at them this weekend when I go home."

It's not like they would have anything better to do. With her thing no longer happening, there would be time to get some work done.

"Are you sure?" Mike asked, taking his paperwork back. "If you're going home, I bet you'll have big plans."

Jamison faltered in her rise to stand, but then continued smoothly, towering over him. Don't trip, she reminded herself. Don't let anyone see how much it hurts.

"Ah, no."

Realizing what he'd said, Mike turned an even deeper shade of crimson. She was pleased to see that the queens of gossip around the office had let even the newest of employees in on her misfortune.

"I'm sorry," he stumbled over his apology. "I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't," Jamison cut him off. "It's fine."

Excusing herself, she made a quick exit, but remained steady. Even with a giant elephant chasing her from the room, Jamison Fairweather would never run.

On the way to her office, she passed Rowan as he talked—flirted—with a woman named Mandi from accounting. "If you want a ride to Florida, I'm heading out in about fifteen minutes."

Rowan inclined his head to let her know he'd heard her, but never took his eyes off Mandi. The man was smooth, leaving a trail of broken hearts throughout Fairweather's many locations.

In her office, she grabbed her things, and checked messages. There was one from her dad telling her to take the jet without him. "I can't leave yet, but I'll come home tomorrow."

The next few days were to be spent filling her face with pizza and wine, while hopefully having movie marathons to keep her mind off the thing. In fact, forcing her dad to watch all the Twilight movies sounded like a brilliant idea since she had never forgiven him for being Team Jacob when clearly Edward was the better choice.

And while hours of vampires and werewolves were a far cry from her original plans for the weekend, it would be good to be home with her people. Outsiders thought they were a weird bunch of hodgepodge connections, and that was okay. It was the only family she knew, and they were perfect.

It was entirely her father's fault for bringing them all together. Once upon a time, he and a woman named Simone, who was an employee at his parents' main estate, had a one-night stand. They were already unlikely friends, and according to the stories told, all it had taken was an evening of heavy drinking for them to fall into bed together.

It never happened again, but it didn't matter. The consequences of their actions showed up in the form of a positive pregnancy test. Knowing his parents would harm Simone, and the baby anyway they could, her father had sent them to live at one of the family's secondary estates. A place hidden deep in the forest lands owned by Fairweather Holdings.

Haven House.

Simone had gone quietly with her own brother Ty, the two of them acting as caretakers to the home during the pregnancy. Jamison's oldest half-brother Selah came along shortly after, but his existence remained a secret until their father could claim him as his own and change Selah's last name to Fairweather.

In the middle of that, her father married a woman named Miranda, and Jamison's second half-brother Samuel was born. Her father also gave Haven House to Simone shortly after, gifting it to her as a combined wedding and baby present when she married Devon and had the twins.

Annabeth and Abe remained at Haven to this day, living with their mother in the old Greek revival. Jamison loved them, and as far as she was concerned, they were her family, even if there was no blood relation between them.

The twins had been texting non-stop, eager for her to come home. Evie would also be waiting at the house, as would Samuel.

Samuel hadn't grown up at Haven like the rest of them. He only spent a few weeks every summer there, and during the rest of the year he was with his mother at the Fairweather estate in Hollingsdale called Parkland Grounds. Also living at Parkland, had been his mother's best friend. A woman named Josie Campbell who, much to everyone's surprise, had been the love of Miranda's life. The women hid their relationship for years, living quietly and raising Samuel until Miranda's death from cancer when he was in his teens.

For most of their lives, Jamison and Evie had always thought their own mother had been nothing more than the other woman. The infamous Benjamin Fairweather's secret hidden away at Haven House.

But how wrong they had been.

In the time since their discovery of Miranda and Josie's relationship, an entirely new narrative unfolded. The love story of Ben Fairweather and Laura Jean Eddins was already the stuff of legend, but learning of how her mother sacrificed her own happiness to keep Miranda and Josie's secret safe painted the woman Jamison would never know in a different light.

"It's time to go." Her assistant Tammy popped her head through the door, aiming a sweet, maternal smile at Jamison. Having spent countless hours together, the woman understood how hard these next few days were going to be. "Are you sure you don't want me to come?"

As her right-hand gal, Tammy usually traveled with her anytime she spent long stretches at the various Fairweather branches. But this wasn't a work trip, and they both knew it. She was just being protective, and Jamison loved her for it. "Absolutely not. You're to take the entire week off and spoil your grandkids. They're in town, aren't they?"

"They are, and every single one of them promised to go with me to the embroidery trade show this weekend." Tammy gave a short nod, grandma-mode activated. "So, if you're going to be alright without me, I plan to hold them to it."

Jamison headed for the door, dropping a kiss on Tammy's cheek as she left. "Have fun and don't worry about me."

"I will always worry about you, young lady."

Making it down to the private elevators only to be used by members of the family, Jamison grinned when her phone started ringing with a call from her sister.

"Hey, big butt."

Evangeline Eddins Fairweather snorted at the greeting. "My butt is not big."

"Oh yeah, it is." Jamison stepped inside the elevator and hit the button. "All those babies have made your boobs and ass enormous."

She was only kidding. Evie positively glowed in her maternal happiness. It was a feeling Jamison wanted for herself, although with the thing no longer happening, it wouldn't be anytime soon.

"So, why are you calling me, heifer?"

In the background, what sounded like a herd of howler monkeys let loose, followed by Evie shouting at Theo to stop dancing on top of the kitchen counter. "Are you watching the news?"

"No, I'm leaving the office."

"They're at it again and holding a press conference."

"Over what?" Jamison exited the elevator and waved goodnight to the security guard at the rear entrance. "They're not trying to force yet another parole hearing, are they?"

"Zanmi is claiming mistreatment. They're saying we're bribing guards to withhold basic necessities and blocking them from talking to Toby directly."

The Zanmi Society.

Or as Jamison liked to call them, the Pain in the Ass Society.

Founded by Toby's old friend, Dr. Marcus Etienne, the group advocated for Toby's release. In the beginning, it seemed to have been mainly made up of naive people who were blinded by the handsome face of killer. They came together during the trial, holding press conferences or picketing the courthouse on his behalf.

But when their sway over public opinion proved to hold power, Jamison had to admit she and her entire family had been surprised. Drawing hundreds of members, it was firmly believed that Toby escaped the death penalty thanks to his Zanmi band of freaks.

After the gavel fell and Toby's life sentence was announced, they thought the press conferences and inappropriate courtroom antics would end. Instead, it morphed into something sinister. Stalking. Harassment. It became so bad during the first year of Toby's incarceration that Evie couldn't leave the house without being chased down by one of them.

Only when Marcus Etienne died did Zanmi cool down their crazy. The Haitian doctor Toby had befriended in college drew people to him like moths to a flame, and without his fire, the group lost steam. Two other doctors picked up where Etienne left off, quietly backing the members who remained.

"Don't let this upset you, Evie. They have no power."

Jamison would never say it out loud, but she'd always found Zanmi's devotion to Toby fascinating. What kind of person became so infatuated with a sick and twisted serial killer that they wanted to join a group dedicated to freeing him? Members included everything from lawyers to housewives to grocery store employees. All of them sympathized with Toby—to a staggering degree—and wanted to believe he had been the victim the entire time.

"It still makes me mad," Evie wheezed.

Outside on the sidewalk, Jamison scanned the area for the car and driver taking her to the small executive airport where she would catch a Fairweather jet home. "Why do you sound like you can't breathe?"

"Another fun part of pregnancy. The baby is pushing on my lungs." Evie sucked in another sharp breath. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Nothing was off-limits between them, and it would always be that way. "I'll hopefully have kids. I'm just not going to have kids with him."

"Liam is getting kicked in his balls the next time I see him," Evie growled, sounding like one of the feral cats around Haven House. "Then I'm going to shove them up his nose."

Jamison loved her big sister's enthusiasm, but the hormones were making her scary. "This isn't all his fault."

"Let my rage have aim, or someone else might get caught up in it."

"This pregnancy is really kicking your ass, huh?"

"It's serious." The sounds of the chaos in the background faded as if Evie were hiding from her daughters. "I need sex like twenty-four-seven. Samuel is getting no sleep. I even called him home from the office today during the girl's naptime because I couldn't wait."

Jamison stopped walking. Maybe there were certain things that were off-limits. "I think I just threw up in my mouth."

"I mean Annabeth ordered me some toys, but it's not the same as having Samuel. He knows exactly what I nee—"

Holding the phone away from her head, Jamison shouted, "La, la, la… shut up. Boundaries!"

Only when she was sure Evie understood did she return the phone to her ear. "You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I guess I'll only talk about my sex addiction to Annabeth, and maybe Abe if he'll stop long enough to listen."

"Don't torture Abe with that information."

Unable to locate the car and driver, Jamison waited at the curb. Behind her, she heard Rowan's deep voice as he exited the building, and a quick glance over her shoulder had her wrinkling her nose. He was walking with Taylor, her dad's assistant. Originally coming to work for the company under Samuel when he managed their Ft. Lauderdale division, Taylor had recently moved into the position after her father's long-time assistant retired.

"Let me call you back."

Jamison plastered a polite smile on her face. Tired and feeling the weight of the weekend settling on her shoulders, the very last thing she wanted to do was make small talk. Rowan, she could handle, but Taylor made her slightly uncomfortable. The woman was nice, and great at her job, but it was more than a little obvious she had a crush on her dad.

"Hey Taylor, are you joining us?"

In a normal world, Taylor would be the ideal woman for an older man in a powerful position. Smart, in her mid-thirties, and gorgeous, she fit the bill perfectly.

But no matter how hard Taylor tried, Jamison knew her father would keep things professional. He wasn't in the market for a wife, letting his company and grandkids take up his time.

"If you don't mind." Taylor sheepishly tucked a strand of silky strawberry blonde hair behind an ear. "I need a weekend away, and to check on my condo."

"Of course not," Jamison lied. "The more the merrier."