Private Sessions

Bryna placed her briefcase on her desk, then opened the door again, looking up and down the hallway. She didn’t see one of the dozen people who worked there.

Good. She needed a few moments to herself to get her thoughts together.

And to scheme exactly how she was going to sneak a meeting with Caleb Payne again … one that might include indulging in the vivid fantasies that were forming in her mind at the mere idea of acting on the intense attraction that existed between them….

AS MUCH A LONER AS HE WAS, he hated eating alone.

Caleb lingered in his office after five o’clock that Friday, checking his watch and thinking about whom he could invite to dinner at such a late hour. Someone who wouldn’t expect anything beyond a good meal. He wasn’t up to anything more.

He had a couple of male colleagues he could call, but both were married. And while the thought of eating alone didn’t please him, less appealing was dining solo at a couple’s house. Especially a young couple convinced they were in love.

“Mr. Payne?”

His secretary opened the door after briefly knocking.

“I have the New York attorney for you on line one.”

Caleb looked at his watch. That would make it after 8:00 p.m. eastern time. Which was pretty much par for the course for their conversations. He didn’t hire anyone who wasn’t two hundred percent committed to their careers.

“Thank you, Nancy. Any word yet on Manolis?”

Philippidis had been avoiding his calls all day.

“No, sir. I’m still trying.”

“Thank you.”

She left the office, closing the door behind her. He turned his attention to the waiting call from his personal attorney.

How long had this case been dragging on? Two years? And the last time he checked, it was no closer to being resolved than when he originally brought the suit.

Of course, the unusual nature of his petition was partly responsible. Most courts didn’t know what to do with a thirty-two-year-old man’s request to force a DNA test. Especially when the parent in question was deceased.

“Harry,” Caleb said, picking up the extension.

“Caleb.”

He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes; he could tell by the sound of the attorney’s voice that this wasn’t going to be good.

“I’ve received an offer.”

He listened as an amount in the mid-seven digits was named.

“Are you still there?” Harry asked, reminding him that he had yet to respond.

“No.”

A slight pause and then, “No, you’re not there? Or, no, no deal?”

He sighed and sat up straighter. “This has never been about the money.”

Money he had. In spades. He’d made three times more than his father ever had by age thirty. And the Payne family was just as old and wealthy a New England clan as the Winsteads.

The thought brought his mother’s face to mind. As her only child, they’d always shared an especially close bond … drawn tighter, he suspected, by the details surrounding his birth.

He had yet to tell her he was pursuing this lawsuit; of course, that meant little—she was probably already well aware of what was going on. The upper one percent was like a small town with lots of acreage. Still, she had yet to say anything to him. He suspected she was waiting for him to come to her and allowing him to do what he needed to do.

The way he saw it, he was doing this as much for her as for himself. She’d sacrificed so much for him … surely he owed her at least the return of her good name.

“They’re anxious for you to let this go.”

Of course they were. The Winsteads didn’t want an illegitimate child to sully up the late, great Theodore Winstead’s good name.

He realized he was gritting his teeth and forced himself to stop.

“You don’t have to make a decision now. Sleep on it. I’ll call again on Monday.”

“No need,” Caleb said. “Refuse and go to the next step.”

“Will do.” Not even a hesitation.

Satisfied, he hung up the phone and sat back again, his every muscle coiled and tense.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that until there was another knock and Nancy appeared in the door.

“Any luck finding Philippidis?” he asked.

“No.”

He stared at her for minute. It was understood that when he was in the office she was to be present, as well. Unless she requested otherwise, or he dismissed her.

“These messages came in while you were on the phone.”

He rubbed his face, noting the stubble there. He’d use his en suite bathroom to shave and clean up before leaving.

He accepted the five slips of paper, leafing through them once, and then again, stopping on one in particular.

He held it up. “Is this her office number?”

“Her cell phone.”

Even better.

“Thanks, Nancy. That’ll be all. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Very good, sir. Good night.”

Caleb rounded his desk, waiting until his secretary gathered her things and left the office before sitting down and picking up the phone, dialing the number on the slip.