Connor drops his gaze to his notes, and my father sighs audibly. “Drop the victim act, Sam. We’re not suggesting you get married or anything so dramatic.”

I inhale slowly. Exhale. I fucking hate this. “What are you suggesting, exactly?” I shift my gaze to my brother-in-law. “Connor?”

To his credit, he meets my gaze. Fucker still insists he did nothing wrong. “A steady girlfriend. Find a girl, woo her, play nice, and otherwise keep your dick in your pants until we get your father into office next November.”

“Governor Guy’s daughter is still single,” Dad says.

Right. For half my life, Dad has been trying to hook me up with Sabrina Guy, and I’m so profoundly uninterested in the sweet, soft-spoken thing that I could fall asleep just thinking about her. Never mind the other reason I couldn’t bring myself to date her, but Dad doesn’t know about that, and I won’t be the one to tell him.

“Connor,” my father continues, with his polite smile, “may my son and I have the room, please?”

“Of course.” Connor gathers his things and stands, nodding at me before he leaves me with my father.

“I understand that I’m asking a lot of you,” Dad says when we’re alone. “But you have to understand that I’m not just trying to protect my campaign. I’m trying to protect you, and I apologize that it’s necessary.”

I take a breath. “This isn’t just a ploy to get me to settle down?”

Dad smiles ruefully. “I can’t say I’d object to that. You’re my son, so of course I’d like to see you settle down and find someone who makes you as happy as your mother makes me.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs. “I know that has to happen on your own terms.”

“You just want me to date someone. Regularly. No photo ops or grand gestures for the media to coo over.”

“Not unless you want to make them.”

Shit. I think he’s right. Honestly, it’s not much of him to ask of his oldest son. “Does it have to be Sabrina?”

He cocks his head. “You’ve always objected to her. Do you mind sharing why?”

Fuck yes, I mind sharing. “Does it really matter? I’m not interested.”

My father nods, accepting that. For the moment, at least. “Okay, so it doesn’t have to be Sabrina, but no strippers. Understood?”

I stand. I am so over this meeting. “Understood,” I mutter, heading for the door.

Lizzy’s working at her laptop in the conference room, and something in my chest snags at the sight of her. Her hair’s pulled into a messy knot at the top of her head, and she chews on the end of her pen as she considers something.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask.

She jumps and her eyes go big. “What?”

“At Hanna and Nate’s wedding?”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course. It’ll be good to . . . have you there.” Her smile is the least believable thing I’ve seen all day, and I’m immediately suspicious. Is she hiding something? Was I wrong when I told Della there was nothing to worry about? Have Liz and Connor rekindled something since she started working here? It’s not like Della’s in a position to take care of Connor’s . . . needs.

Fuck. Nothing good down that road. I return her fake smile with my own.

I need to go back to the bank, where I can drown out the sound of my jealous thoughts with numbers and memos until my eyeballs ache, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off Liz.

It’s one thing to want to protect my sister from the likes of Connor. It’s quite another to make myself crazy with jealousy concerning Liz. She’s not mine. Never has been, never will be.

* * *

Sam

Eight Months Before . . .

“Your girlfriend is here,” I warn as I knock on the door to Connor’s apartment.

“Get out of my way,” my sister says. She shoves me, and I back up as she punches her key in the lock and pushes the door open. We both draw in a breath at what we see on the other side.

“Fucking bastard,” I breathe. Connor’s sleeping on the living room floor in a tangle of sheets and blankets, a woman in his arms.

“You cheating scum,” Della cries. “How could you?”

Connor jumps up and scrambles for his pants. “Della, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see my boyfriend.”

That’s the moment the girl in his bed rolls over, and I see who spent the night with Connor. She pulls the sheet under her arms and sits up, groggy and beautiful as all hell with those blond curls messy around her sleepy features.

“Good morning, Liz,” I say. For my sister’s sake, I pretend I’m not the one who has been betrayed here. I pretend I’m not the one who’s dying inside at seeing them naked together.

Liz blinks at Della. “Della? What are you doing here?”

Della lunges for her, and I wrap my arms around her waist to stop her. “You fucking slut. You fucking bitch cunt slut.”

“Della,” Connor says. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“I’m pregnant, Connor. I’m pregnant, and you’re fucking another girl.”

I tear my gaze away from Liz—seeing her like this hurts too much, anyway—and turn my anger on Connor. “You got my sister pregnant?” I let my disappointment in Liz fuel my brotherly protective instinct. “You’re a piece of shit.”