Payback Affairs. Emilie Rose

reminder of their father’s inability to be faithful to his wife or any other woman was exactly what Rand needed to hear to get his head back in gear. Even if Tara tried to sucker him into a long-term relationship, Rand didn’t have the staying power to make it last.

      Like father, like son.

      “How is it going with Dad’s little brat and his guardian? What was the tenacious aunt’s name again?” Rand asked.

      “It’s going fine. Her name is Carly. But we’re talking about you.” Mitch lowered himself into one of the sleek leather visitor chairs stationed in front of Rand’s wide mahogany desk.

      Tara had indeed worked miracles on this formerly sterile space. Besides the office paraphernalia he’d requested, she’d added plants, art that actually looked like something recognizable and a sofa long enough for him to stretch out on if he had to pull an all-nighter in the office. An oversize ottoman doubled as a coffee table and a foot stool. And the wooden cabinet/shelf combo against the wall concealed a refrigerator.

      Rand tossed his pen on his desk. “I can handle my own affairs.”

      “Why did you leave, Rand? The truth this time. No BS. And don’t deny Tara’s involvement. Your reaction to her name at the reading of the will and the tension between you when I walked in proves she was part of it.”

      Rand debated redirecting the discussion to the résumés on his desk, but Mitch wore a familiar stubborn look on his face that said he wasn’t going to be diverted. His brother had a right to his questions, and he needed assurances that Rand wouldn’t let him down this time.

      And as much as Rand hated revealing the truth, Mitch needed to keep a wary eye on Tara. If she was looking for a rich husband, Mitch was just as likely a target. His jab about Tara missing out on one of the Kincaid men had hit a little too close to the mark. The idea gave Rand heartburn.

      “When I returned from auditing the Mediterranean line five years ago, I caught Tara leaving Dad’s suite.”

      Mitch swore. “Not again.”

      “Yes, again.” Tara hadn’t been the first of Rand’s lovers to end up in his father’s bed, but she had been the only one Rand had given a damn about.

      Had Everett pursued Tara or had Tara done the chasing? Either was a betrayal, but which was the most egregious? Tara’s, Rand decided, because he expected no less from his father.

      Rand stood and crossed to the windows to stare out at the blue-green water thirty stories below. “I was sick of his games, sick of him coveting everything and everyone I possessed. I didn’t want to put you or Nadia in the middle. So I left.”

      “I was always in the middle, Rand, like a referee in a prize fight. But Tara was fair territory. You’d dumped her. Hell, I even considered asking her out. You have to admit she’s smart and easy on the eyes.”

      Every muscle in Rand’s body clenched. He spun and faced his brother with his fists ready. The challenge on Mitch’s face dared him to argue. Rand couldn’t. The moment he’d ended his affair with Tara he’d lost whatever temporary claim he had on her. Having no ties to her had been his choice. And it had been the right decision—the only decision—given the Kincaid history with women.

      So why had seeing her with his father sucker punched him? And why did the idea of Tara with Mitch make him want to hit something?

       Because she’d claimed she loved you.

      And for a split second that night in her bed five years ago when she’d been spinning her fairy tale, Rand had believed her, and he’d wanted the life she’d described. Until he’d remembered who he was. What he was. A bastard who let people down. Just like his old man. He’d remembered what loving Everett Kincaid had done to his mother, and what loving Rand had done to Serita. He’d known he couldn’t risk that with Tara.

      And then he had recalled how his mother had told him she loved him minutes before peeling out in his father’s prized ‘69 Jaguar XKE and plowing it into a tree at a hundred miles per hour. He’d remembered that Serita had called him on the phone and said the same words either right before or right after swallowing a bottle of pills. Had she intended those to be her final words?

      But the joke had been on him. While he’d been agonizing over whether or not to risk loving Tara and letting her love him, Tara had moved on.

      “Chasing Tara would have been a waste of time anyway,” Mitch said, interrupting Rand’s thoughts. “She still had it bad for you.”

      “Not so bad if she turned to Dad three weeks after we broke up.”

      “Whatever. Being second string to my big brother was a position I was tired of playing. I wasn’t going after your girl.” Mitch’s bitterness came through loud and clear.

      “She wasn’t mine and you were never second string. You were the golden child who could do no wrong.”

      For a moment Mitch stared silently then he shook his head. “Why do you think Dad pushed you so hard, Rand? It was because he knew I idolized my big brother, and I’d have to raise my game to keep up with the standards you set. And you always aimed for perfection.”

      An invisible band tightened around Rand’s chest. Mitch had idolized him and Rand had let him down by walking out and hauling himself to the other side of the country to nurse his wounded ego. “He yanked both our chains.”

      Mitch nodded. “Dad was a master manipulator. He had ways of getting what he wanted from each of us. He pushed and goaded you because you thrived on the competition. He was more devious with me because I never let him know when he’d pushed my buttons.”

      Rand cursed. How had he missed that?

       Because you were too busy butting heads with the ol’ man and too busy blaming him for being such an ass your mother would rather be dead than married to him.

       And too busy hating yourself for being just like him. Selfish. Self-absorbed. Unable to love a woman the way she deserved to be loved.

      Mitch stood. “It’s against company policy to fraternize with a direct subordinate. Tara was as out of bounds for Dad then as she is for you now. Don’t set us up for a sexual harassment law suit.”

      His brother would crack a rib laughing if he knew the price for Tara’s participation was stud service. Rand ignored the rebuke and asked, “Since when did our father play by the rules?”

      Mitch’s gaze shifted to the trio of potted trees Tara had positioned in the corner to keep the late afternoon sun’s blinding rays from creating a glare on Rand’s computer screen. “Yeah.”

      The tone of that single word sent a prickle of unease creeping up the back of Rand’s neck. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Mitch?”

      “I have everything under control. You need to make sure this thing between you and Tara doesn’t turn sour. If you piss her off and she leaves before the end of the year—”

      “She won’t.” He’d do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t. He hated someone else holding the cards, calling the shots and controlling the outcomes. That wasn’t his style. He liked having the upper hand. But the ridiculous terms of the will had him handcuffed, and for the time being Tara held the key. “At the end of the year KCL will be yours and Nadia’s.”

      “What about you?”

      For the first time in his life, Rand realized he didn’t have a long-term plan. He hadn’t thought beyond fulfilling his duty and not letting his father screw Nadia and Mitch out of their inheritance. He hadn’t thought beyond beating his father at his own game.

      Would there be a place for him at KCL?

      Did he want to spend the rest of his life walking in his father’s shoes?

      He didn’t have the answers.

      “We’ll