Where does that leave me? In the worst situation of all, made worse by my father’s refusal to acknowledge that this is a ruse at all. I have asked—once even pleaded—for him to admit, just to me, that it’s a political ploy. He will not.

The receptionist fell back to her station as the guard escorted me to the executive elevator. That was awkward for all. Considering my anti-Cabal efforts, my guide might look more like an armed escort, though he was only trying to accord me due respect.

The dilemma was resolved when the parking garage elevator opened and out stepped my half-brother, William. On seeing me, he hesitated, as if considering his chances of hastily retreating. Normally, I’d have let him go, but given the choice between discomfiting the guard or William, I decided my brother could handle it.

“William, how are you?” I walked forward, hand extended.

Every employee in the lobby had stopped to watch.

“Lucas.”

He gave my hand a fleeting shake.

“I was just going upstairs to speak to Father. If you were headed that way, we can ride up together.”

He couldn’t escape gracefully, so he said, “Yes, of course.”

The guard relinquished me to him.

Of my three half-brothers, I get along best with William, which is not to say he was going to invite Paige and me to Sunday dinner anytime soon, but he’d never tried to kill me—a sign of resignation, if not acceptance. On the elevator, I asked after his wife and infant son. Another nephew whom I suspected I’d never meet. Hector’s two boys—now teenagers—didn’t even know they had an Uncle Lucas. When they were younger, I’d send birthday and Christmas gifts, but after a few years of having them returned, I’d realized to continue would be mere stubbornness…and an expenditure I could ill afford.

Once off the elevator, aware that others could be watching, William struggled to show a polite return interest in my life by asking about Savannah’s educational plans.

“Well, well, well,” a voice sang out behind us. “If it isn’t the geek crusader. What horrible crime have we committed this time?” Carlos slid past me, planted himself in my path and held out his wrist. “Here, baby brother, get it over with.”

“Hello, Carlos.”

He made a show of looking around. “Where’s the little witch? Is it just my imagination, or do you lock her away whenever I’m around?”

“She’s otherwise occupied this evening, but I’m sure you’ll see her later.”

He flashed his teeth. “Oh, I’ll make sure of it.”

I tensed, but tried not to show it. Let Carlos know he’d struck a nerve and he’d never let up. Paige always repelled his attentions, but with Carlos, rejection only served to whet his appetite.

“If you’ll excuse me, William, Carlos—”

My father’s office door opened and Hector came out.

When my eldest brother steps into a room, the hairs on my neck rise and icy dread settles into the pit of my stomach. William and Carlos dislike me, but Hector hates me—a hatred so pure it vibrates between us. Can I blame him? He’s the oldest son. He’s been a hardworking, vital part of the Cabal since before I was born. Yet he has to suffer the humiliation of my father pretending he’ll hand the business to me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Hector advanced. He’s at least four inches shorter than me, but it took all I had not to shrink back.

“Got your bags packed, Hector?” Carlos said. “Because I think you’re about to be sent on a little trip.”

“Lucas.”

I tore my gaze from Hector as my father brushed past him to embrace me. Even as I returned the hug, he started pummeling me with questions. Where was Paige? When did we arrive? How was our flight?

My brothers might as well have been invisible. The temperature around us seemed to plummet, but my father was oblivious. He ushered me into his office, still asking questions.

When it came to his family, my father was as blind as King Lear, blithely fostering jealousies among his offspring, then seeming shocked when they turned against him. Sometimes it was as calculated as naming me heir.

But more often, it was the thoughtless slights, like ignoring them in my presence or prominently displaying on his desk a photo of me as a child…with my mother beside me. How did my half-brothers feel, seeing that? Their own mother’s picture was farther back, displayed more from duty than from desire. My father would say that they were grown men and knew he hadn’t lived with their mother for years, remaining married only because he couldn’t afford the divorce. Yet it was the emotional impact that mattered, and that he couldn’t see.

“Paige did come to Miami with you, didn’t she?” he said as he closed the door.

“She’s at the hotel, unpacking.”

“Which hotel?”

“The South Continental.”

“Why don’t I have you moved—”

“Paige likes the Continental.”

“I was going to suggest you stay at my house.”

I stifled a sigh. I thought I’d preempt him by refusing his upgrade offer, but I’d only pushed him to something more difficult to decline.

“I’ll discuss it with her. But, having just unpacked, I doubt she’d want to—”

“Tomorrow then. I’m sure she’ll be busy with the case you’re working on so I’ll have my staff stop by the hotel and pack for her.”

Two questions framed as a statement. If I didn’t argue the presumption that I was staying longer than a day and working a case, he’d know both were true.

“We may not be here that long, Papá, and I’m not visiting in an official capacity.”

I waited for his face to fall, disappointed that I’d avoided his trap. Instead, he clapped me on the back and laughed, and I realized I had indeed been trapped…into proving how well I assimilated lessons I pretended to ignore.

“She’ll join us for dinner, though, won’t she?”

I could point out that I hadn’t received, much less agreed to, any dinner invitation, but that would be petty.

Sometimes it was easier to play the game and let him win the small victories, reserving my strength for the larger battles. I said yes.

I took Karl’s envelope from my satchel. I felt my father’s gaze on me and resisted the urge to glance up.