Las Vegas Nights. Cat Schield

turned to drugs and alcohol to cope and died of an overdose when JT was about twelve.”

      JT Stone ran the family’s operations in Las Vegas. A handsome, enigmatic businessman, he didn’t socialize with the Fontaine sisters, but Violet had gotten to know him a little because he was Tiberius’s nephew.

      “How awful to lose his mom so young,” Scarlett said, thinking of all the substance abuse she’d seen ruin lives during her years in Hollywood. “Anyway, in addition to those files, the guy grabbed the files Tiberius had on all of us.” Scarlett noticed Violet wasn’t at all surprised. “You knew?”

      “I suspected.” She grinned. “Anything interesting?”

      Scarlett felt a little of her dread ease. “There was a great deal on my time in L.A. Nothing too shocking there. I kept the paparazzi busy for several years during my dark period. Your file was the thinnest of the bunch.”

      Violet sighed. “I’m deadly dull.”

      “You should do something to fix that,” Scarlett teased before growing serious once more. “But getting back to the problem. Last night the thief stole all our files. Including one I pulled on Harper’s mother.” She paused, still unsure how much to share what she knew with Violet.

      “If there’s nothing much in the files, why would he risk getting caught stealing them?”

      “He might have been fishing. I don’t know if he went there looking for other files and just grabbed up whatever he could get or if he came specifically to take our family’s files.”

      “But you said there was nothing of interest in them.”

      Again Scarlett hesitated. She knew she could trust Violet, but didn’t want to anger Harper by spilling her secret. If it even was a secret. Maybe Harper knew. Maybe Grandfather knew. Maybe Scarlett and Violet were the only two in the dark.

      But she didn’t think that scenario was likely. Family meant too much to Henry Fontaine. It’s why he’d given his illegitimate granddaughters the same shot at running Fontaine Hotels and Resorts as he’d given his legitimate one. Scarlett wasn’t sure how he’d react if he found out Harper wasn’t his granddaughter.

      “Scarlett,” Violet prompted, her tone tinged with alarm. “What aren’t you telling me?”

      “It’s not about you. It’s about Harper.”

      Violet laughed. “Harper? If anyone doesn’t have skeletons in their closet it’s her.”

      “It actually has to do with her mother. And what I discovered in the files has the potential of turning Harper’s world upside down.”

      “If it’s that bad,” Violet said, dismay clouding her expression, “I don’t want to ask what you unearthed.”

      Scarlett was relieved that Violet was letting her off the hook. The secret wasn’t hers to share. If she told Harper, and if she in turn wanted Violet to know, that was different.

      “Do I tell her?” Scarlett would love it if Violet told her what to do. “Would you want to know?”

      Violet took a long time pondering Scarlett’s questions. “I can’t answer for Harper, but I don’t think I’d want to know. Maybe it’s awfully naive of me to think that anything that’s been buried this long should stay hidden.”

      “Which is the way I was leaning before the files were stolen. But what happens if the guy figures out the same thing I did and the information gets out? She’ll be blindsided. At least if I tell her, she can prepare.”

      “It’s something she needs to prepare for?” Violet frowned. “In that case I don’t think I can tell you what to do. On one hand, she deserves to know the truth.”

      So did other people. Like Grandfather. But Scarlett couldn’t bear to be the one who damaged Harper’s relationship with the man she looked up to and adored.

      “On the other hand, the truth might ruin everything.”

      * * *

      Logan entered his house and left his briefcase on the table in the foyer. Tugging at his tie, he strode into the kitchen to fetch a cold beer. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon in a meeting with a new client discussing a proposal that would be worth several million dollars over the next year or so.

      Most of the new business Wolfe Security generated was handled by his sales staff. But every now and then a project came along where the client demanded to meet with Logan or Lucas. Considering this was the sort of deal that would strengthen their global-market position, Logan was willing to meet with the guy, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was.

      Beer in hand, he headed toward the master bedroom, intent on grabbing a shower and changing. He was heading back to Tiberius’s storage unit next. Something about last night’s theft had been nagging at him. Maybe another journey through the files would spark inspiration.

      A tiny part of him recognized that visiting the storage unit was an excuse to avoid what he really wanted to do—spend time with Scarlett. All day long he’d caught himself reaching for the phone to call her. He’d known making love with her would aggravate his fascination with her. It was the reason that he’d resisted crossing that line for as long as he had.

      He slowed as he neared Madison’s room. “You’re home early,” he remarked, spying her facedown on her bed, feet kicking the air in slow sweeps.

      She looked up from her reading, her gaze slow to focus on him. “Scarlett gave me the night off. Said she needed to take care of something.” Madison’s smile grew sly. “Are you planning on staying out all night again?”

      He ignored her question and asked one of his own. “What are you reading?”

      “A script for a brand-new TV show. It’s terrific. There’s a part in here I’d be perfect for.”

      “Where did you get it?”

      Madison’s expression settled into worried lines. “I took it from Scarlett’s office. I’ll get it back before she even notices it’s missing.”

      So Scarlett was reading scripts. And not just any scripts but ones featuring teenage girls. Surely she didn’t think tempting the seventeen-year-old with juicy acting jobs that would never materialize was a good way to convince Madison to go to college? Did Scarlett think that once he’d given her his trust, she could go and do what she thought was right where Madison was concerned?

      He prowled into the room. “Give me the script.” His tone brooked no argument and he received none.

      Madison sat up and handed him the bound pages. “I know I should have told her I wanted to read it, but she sounded so distracted when we spoke I didn’t think she’d even notice.”

      To her credit, his niece sounded more apprehensive than argumentative. That was a change from the sullen teenager who’d appeared on his doorstep two weeks ago. Ten minutes ago he’d have been happy to give Scarlett credit for the transformation. That was before he found out she was looking at television projects.

      “I’m sure if you’d asked her, she’d have let you read the script.”

      “You’re right. I should have asked.” Madison crossed her legs and gave him her most solemn expression. “When you give it back to her tell her I’m sorry.”

      Giving Madison’s repentant attitude a distracted nod, Logan continued toward his room. He finished showering and dressing in record time and was back on the road before his hair had a chance to dry. The script on the passenger seat beside him kept his irritation fueled. Scarlett had assured him she was done with Hollywood. So why was she bothering with a script?

      Before leaving the house, he’d texted her and found out she was heading back to her office after meeting with Violet. He had twenty minutes to ponder what had passed between the sisters as he navigated the traffic between his house and the Strip.

      The