The Forgotten One (The Heirs #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

“We drank wine and talked about the weather.”

Sarah sat curled up on her couch; the pain medication had kicked in, and she was on the phone with Patrick. He’d left no less than five messages for her since she’d been whipped by a camera.

“Don’t give me that bullshit.”

“You’re not getting anything else right now.”

“You have—”

“No, I don’t. In fact, since the doctor I saw suggested I have a CT to rule out an orbital fracture—something I obtained while on the job, I might add—I would highly recommend that you back off on pushing me to work.”

Yeah, Sarah was definitely feeling the effects of the opioid the doctor had prescribed. An unexpected “mama bear” protectiveness when it came to Max boiled to the surface. She went from worrying about saying the wrong thing to her boss and risking getting fired to damn near daring him to.

“I’m not asking you to work. I’m asking for information.”

That was the same thing, and he knew it.

“I’ll tell you this much, and only because my face is killing me right now and I want to lie down.” It was actually rather numb at the moment, but he didn’t know that. “If you start printing a bunch of assumed or made-up lies about the Stones, my exclusive from them will end. Max has told me that I’m the only reporter he intends to talk to. I’m not sure if he meant it, but if that’s the case, you know how big that is.”

She heard Patrick sigh. “We need to keep this story going.”

“Then keep it going. Send someone to the press conference. Quote Alex and Chase—don’t sensationalize anything.”

“Alex and Chase? You’re on a first-name basis with the Stones?”

“I stayed the night at their house, Patrick. I didn’t spend the whole time saying Mr. This and Ms. That,” she said.

“Why was that? Why did they let you stay there?”

This conversation was killing her buzz. Sarah didn’t answer; instead, she gave him a job to do. “Send Josephine to the press conference. Her integrity is worthy of this story.”

“When do you plan on coming back in?”

“I’ll be gone at least a week, maybe two. And before you jump all over me about that, understand that I do have a note from the doctor to take up to a month off from staring at a computer. Eye strain and a broken eye socket don’t mix.” Funny how she spun her injury to whatever best suited her needs. And the note actually said two weeks, as her personal doctor recommended ... but Sarah kept that to herself, too.

“Okay, okay. Just ... keep me in the loop.”

Sarah didn’t say she would ... didn’t say she wouldn’t. “Thanks for asking how I was doing, by the way. That was really thoughtful of you to be concerned for my well-being.” He never once asked how she was.

Calling him out on his bullshit made her feel better.

“Bye, Patrick.”

He muttered something and disconnected the call.

Teri walked into the living room. “Your boss is a dick.”

“Tell me about it.”

Teri tucked her feet under her on the other end of the sofa, a cup of tea in her hand. “You look like crap.”

Sarah glared. “I love you, too.”

“How was it in that huge house?”

She considered her answer for a moment. “From the outside it looks stuffy and pretentious. Like don’t touch anything or someone will notice and yell at you. But it didn’t feel that way once I was inside.”

“Really?”

“That’s because of the people. Alex, Chase, and Piper are super down-to-earth.”

“And Max?”

Sarah leaned into the thought of Max, his calm demeanor one minute, his rage to deck the cameraman the next. And the arrogant cockiness when he’d kissed her like she’d asked for it.

Teri pulled in a slow breath as a huge smile spread over her face. “Ohhh, Sarah ... have you been a naughty girl?”

Sarah looked at her friend and bit her lip.

“Oh my God. I have to hear about this. Spill it!”

“He isn’t even my type.”

Teri was smiling like a fool. “You don’t have a type. You have to have something on occasion to have a ‘type.’ What happened?”

“He kissed me.”

Teri dropped her shoulders. “That’s it?”

Sarah shook her head, thought about her legs wrapped around Max’s waist as she sat on a Ferrari, reaching a climax without even taking off her clothes. “It was a lot more than a kiss.”

Teri squealed. “It’s about time you got laid.”

“It was a hell of a lot more erotic than just getting laid.”

“I guess that eye didn’t hurt so much after all.”

“He made me forget about my eye.”

“What do you think this means? Will you see him again?”

Sarah pulled the blanket tossed over her a little higher on her shoulders. “I would think so.”

“How did you leave it?” Teri asked.

They didn’t leave it anywhere. No “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Or “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

“It’s a bit convoluted. He’s a story and I’m a reporter, so yeah, I assume I’ll see him again.”

“He’s more than a story. He’s a billionaire.”

Sarah shook her head. “No. He’s a normal guy living paycheck to paycheck in a rental in Palmdale. His go-to outfit is a flannel shirt and jeans.”

“Who is a billionaire!” Teri cried out a second time.

“Who happened to inherit a sizable amount of money from a father he knew nothing about. The billions thing doesn’t describe Max at all.”

“You can downplay the money part all day long, but the fact that you’re dating this guy is almost as much of a story as him finding out he’s a Stone.”

Sarah shook her head. “Fooling around on the hood of a Ferrari is not ‘dating.’”

Teri tossed her head back. “Would you listen to yourself right now? Hood of a Ferrari. ”

“I get it. But let’s be real here. We just met. And because of my job and his story, we’ve seen each other a lot. We obviously have chemistry—”

“Hence the hood of a Ferrari,” Teri interrupted.

“Right. But he just had a bombshell of drama thrown in his lap. Everything in his world is going to change direction by a hundred and eighty degrees. Just think about that for a second. Everything Max has identified himself to be ended the moment the Stones showed up at his door. He had a job cutting concrete. Hugely physical and something that took up fifty to sixty hours a week that he no longer has. He lives in Palmdale, for crying out loud. Do you know anyone that lives in Palmdale?”

“Not really.”

“Billionaires don’t live there, I can tell you that. And there is no way he will for very long. He won’t get a moment’s rest in a suburb with the houses a stone’s throw from each other and where graffiti and chipped paint are competing for dominance. He went from zero family to a brother, sister, and a hotel empire. He went from believing he was an orphan to the possibility that his mother is still alive somewhere. And in all of our conversations, he hasn’t once said anything about a close enough friend that he could confide in.” Sarah took a breath and reflected on her own words. “You and I wake up every morning and we have a reasonable expectation and idea of what our day will be like. And even if it changed ... a new job, a new relationship, those things take time and come in gradually. Max’s entire world shifted in a split second.” Sarah snapped her fingers. “Just that quick. Even with all that money, there’s going to be some blowback. So yeah, we have an attraction, but I’m not going to read into it any more than he is. For all I know, pursuing me is the only familiar thing he knows he can do right now. Even if he’s not aware of that ... I am. I’m not going to get all giddy and mushy about meeting and fooling around with a demanding, if not gorgeous, man when that’s all it will likely ever amount to be. Money changes people. There’s no telling if he’s going to want this when he realizes what all that money can get him.”

“He’d be the one who scores for having you,” Teri said in solidarity.

“Damn right!” Sarah smiled. “I’m keeping it real regardless.”

Teri stared in silence for several seconds.

“Have you ever considered writing a book instead of magazine articles?”

Sarah took that as a compliment. “I’m a realist, Teri. It takes months, maybe years, to write a book and hope to get published. I write articles and get paid weekly.”

Teri brought her teacup to her lips. “Someone is going to write Max’s story. And you know that will be published.”

“How are you feeling?”

Max called in the early evening on Sunday night.

“That depends,” Sarah said.

“On?”

“If you’re going to tell me I need to rush to some spot on the other end of town and be there in half an hour.”

Max chuckled. “Well . . . actually.”

“I’m heavily medicated, so don’t even try,” she told him.

“Are you really?”

The man knew her already. “No. I might take a little something before bed so I can stay asleep. But I’m okay during the day. I’m going to try and stick with Tylenol starting tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

Sarah spent the entire weekend channeling her inner teenager, complete with binging a miniseries, eating junk food, and contemplating her bestie’s suggestions. “How are you? How’s the mess outside?”

“Half the crowd outside the gate left this morning. There’s a few stragglers.”

“That’s because there’s a press conference tomorrow and everyone thinks you’re going to be there. No reason to wait outside in the cold when they can huddle in a room with thirty-five of their closest colleagues.”

“Will you be huddled there?”

“No. I told Patrick I’m taking two weeks off.”

He paused. “You’re serious.”

“I am. I’m also going to go crazy sitting around doing nothing but watching TV all day long ... not to mention I’m on track for gaining five pounds,” she told him.

“I hear ya. I’m going stir-crazy.”

“It’s human nature. We always want what we can’t have. If you’re told to sit perfectly still, you suddenly have an itch you have to scratch. It’s just how we’re wired.”

There was a pause in the conversation.

Until they both started to say something at the same time.

“Max . . .”

“Listen, I . . .”

Sarah laughed.

“You go first,” he told her.

She swallowed and collected her courage. “I want to help you. If you’ll let me.”

“With what?”

“Finding your mom.”

Max didn’t reply right away.

“You’d be helping me out, too. I can’t afford to buy new clothes the extra five pounds would make me buy, so ...”

“Sarah—”

She felt a no on his lips and kept pushing her case.

“I’m not suggesting this in an effort to get all clingy after we, ah ... you know.” Her cheeks warmed at the memory.

“You’re not?”

“No. It might appear that way, but no. I’m a pretty good investigative reporter. And the way I see it, the only other people that know about your mom and can help are Chase, Piper, and Alex. Alex and Chase have a company to run, and Piper is going to pop at any moment.”

“In about a month, I think,” Max said.

“Whatever. I have an unexpected couple of weeks to myself, so maybe I can help. At least help get the ball rolling.”

“For a story?” he asked.

“If you wanted me to tell the story, fine ... but I want to help because I think you need it. And I don’t think you’re used to, or are comfortable with, asking for any help. I’m offering it.” Sarah crossed her fingers that he’d agree.

Maybe a tiny bit of her was feeling a little clingy.

Silence filled the space between them.

“I’m starting my search in Arizona. Where I was born.”

He wasn’t saying no. “Sounds reasonable.”

“My plane is leaving at the same time Chase and Alex are at the press conference.”

“Oh.” Her chest deflated. “I can catch a later flight.”

“No . . .”

Shit.

At least I tried.

She wasn’t about to beg ... Then he’d know she was a tad clingier than she let on.

Max cleared his throat. “I’ll have the security guard pick you up and you can meet me at the airport. I’m driving in with Alex and Chase to try to throw off the media, then leaving out the back door.”

Yes!

Sarah fist-bumped the air.

“Great,” she said with less enthusiasm than she actually felt. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to tell you that I was leaving town for a few days and that I’d call you when I got back. I didn’t want you to think I was ghosting you.”

She paused, soaked that thought in.

There was something to be said about that.

Sarah wasn’t sure what it was ... but there was something.