Secret Heir

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mitch held onto the handrail as he stood from the kneeler. Praying wasn't his thing, but he’d tried to do it like his mother had taught him. It had been twenty-four hours but it felt like she watched him still. He needed to get a grip. She was gone now. He hoped she was at peace and with his sister, Catherine, again.

This vast emptiness inside threatened to consume him completely if he weren’t carful. Would he stop hurting? It might be worth it. He stared at the casket, draped in roses, arranged at the front of the church. None of this seemed real.

His dark-haired, blue-eyed mother had been so full of life, with hardly any wrinkles despite her age.

The doors opened. Mitch fixed his black tie and turned to greet the next mourner. As he squinted against the sun streaming through the doors, his shoulders relaxed with relief as he recognized the long locks of blond hair from his youngest brother. So different than his own business cut. He nodded his head.

"Axel."

His brother wrapped his arms around him in a fast hug. "Mitch."

"I'm sorry." Mitch regretted not dragging Axel home sooner. Everything had happened in a whirlwind, but Axel had to be hurt.

“Why is it a closed casket?” Axel asked as he stepped away.

“Mom’s wishes.”

"But she was always so beautiful and kept herself looking young. Can I have a few minutes alone with her?”

"Of course."

Giving Mitch a sad smile, Axel patted him on the back and walked down the aisle.

The door swung open again. Mitch turned to greet the newcomers. Then his entire body stiffened as his gaze focused on the brown-haired, brown-eyed man who looked nothing like their father. Everything he read in the newspapers indicated that Peter was their father reborn; Midas touch, a king of commerce. There was no way they'd ever get along. Mitch held out his hand, widening his stance.

"Peter Morgan," Mitch announced.

Peter’s gaze narrowed and they shook hands. "Growing up, I thought your name was Mikey."

"You know who I am?" Mitch's hands fisted. Peter Morgan and his family were the reason their father could never marry his mother. He uncurled his fists. Fiona Dupree knew the man was married when she had him and his brothers. All in the name of love.

"I remember meeting you when Father brought me along on one of his trips."

Yet none of them had been invited to their father’s funeral! It was an insult, a slight, to read about the event in the newspaper and online. The family lawyers had contacted them right away and Fiona had waited, in vain, for the family to reach out. And Mitch wasn't stupid. The entourage of people Peter brought with him likely meant Peter Morgan wanted his company, wiping out any trace that Mitch Morgan was their father, too.

His anger grew but this was not the time or place.

Peter turned and placed his hand on a pretty brunette's back. "Let me introduce my wife, Belle."

Wife? "I thought you were getting married on Valentine's Day?"

Everyone knew about the love lives of Mitch Morgan’s legitimate children. Victoria Morgan had been thought dead...until she walked into their father’s funeral. A month later, she was in the papers again for stopping a wedding and marrying the father of her unknown daughter.

The legitimate family was still treated like American royalty, just as when their father had been alive. While their father had insisted Mitch and his brothers all had the Morgan last name, he’d refused to bring them home to meet his family. His mother had deserved better than to be treated as a “side piece” when their love had lasted more than thirty years.

A few more people gathered behind Peter as he answered in a low voice, "That will be our public wedding."

"Got it."

Mitch’s gaze zeroed in on a thin young woman with brown eyes behind dark frames in a black pencil skirt and fitted suit jacket standing behind Peter. Beautiful was too simple a word to describe the vision. Mitch straightened, nodding at her. "Who is this?"

Peter waved toward her. "One of my employees. Tess Taylor. She was the one who discovered your identity."

Information was priceless. He'd not let gorgeous Tess out of his sight. If Peter brought her here, during a funeral service for his mother, then she must have valuable information on Morgan Enterprises. He needed to find out what she knew and ignore how every cell in his body instantly became aware of her.

He reached out and placed his hand on her elbow. "Digging up United Trust info?"

She lowered her head, but he saw how her cheeks turned red. An innocent shark? "I'm not..."

Carnal energy coursed through him. As if he’d been scalded, he let go of her elbow. Tess’s radiance shouldn’t get to him. A reaction like that made no sense, but if she had even an inkling of attraction toward him too, she'd tell him everything about his half-brother's business.

"This is a private affair,” Mitch said. “But you are welcome to say goodbye to my mother."

Tess scooted behind Belle Morgan, but the air retained her raspberry scent. Others joined them. Mitch wished his own brothers were closer.

"And who is this?" His dark-haired younger brother, Galen, asked.

“Luke, Caro, and Matthew. Luke and Matthew are also your half-brothers. Our father put them in boarding school, letting them grow up without a mother or father.”

No one ever said their father had been a good man, even though he had ensured Mitch, his brothers, and his mother had everything they might need, there was always the taint of not being quite enough.

The foyer behind them started getting crowded. More people opened the door, but his brother, Galen, took over greeting the guests. The pews were more than half-filled already and more people just stood and talked in the aisles. Mitch needed a second to breathe. He fixed his cufflink, then said, "Please, everybody, have a seat."

The group filed past him, but the woman with the raspberry scent caught his attention. He grabbed her arm before she was out of reach. "Tess, wait."

Her lips parted. "Why?"

Mitch prayed his mother in heaven would forgive him for his next actions because no way would he let Peter Morgan swoop in and steal his company. Tess was clearly part of his team. She'd know everything he needed to find out. His body stiffened as he leaned closer. "As you are the one who brought the Morgans to my mother's funeral..."

She nodded, holding his gaze. "They wanted to pay their respects."

"Respects? Yeah, right." He wasn't that much of a fool. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from touching her again.

She batted her eyelashes. "Mr. Morgan—"

"I'm Mitch Morgan." She probably hadn't meant to touch on his sore spot, but he couldn't help himself. "I am unlike your boss, whose father created all our family troubles. Men like Peter and my dad are hardly the type to trust. What exactly do you do for him?" The idea of them together twisted his insides.

"Umm..." She glanced behind him, then folded her hands in front of her. Unoffended, Tess said, “Mr. Morgan is simply my boss. I'm not involved with him on a personal level. I believe he dotes on his wife. He has her portrait on the wall and stares at her picture on his desk all the time. To me, he seems pretty faithful.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Everyone at Morgan Enterprises sings his praises as the best boss they’ve ever had."

He was lucky she hadn’t smacked him. “Sorry. It’s been a trying few days.” Still, she could tell him what he needed to know about Morgan Enterprises.

Her head tilted as her huge brown eyes studied him. "If you want to talk in private, I'm game."

His collar felt too tight. Fiona would not approve of business dealings right now, although Tess looked like someone his mother might have tried to introduce him to, if she’d been alive. "Why would I?"

Her eyes welled but she blinked. "My father passed away not that long ago. I remember that sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers.”

"I do need air."

If he got out of the hot church for two minutes, perhaps he'd be able to focus on his mother’s service, or even business, not how Tess brought calm just by being near.

He led her outside and toward the small garden. A saxophonist played near a tree as they walked a short path. She nudged his shoulder. "Can we start over?” Her lips lifted slightly. “Hi. I'm Tess."

He glanced back at the cathedral, tempted to just keep going, arm in arm with Tess. To deny his mother’s death. He knew that was wrong, but the idea persisted. He could tell his mom that he loved her one more time, tell her goodbye. Tess’s arm pressed against his felt nice, so he tried to smile.

"Tess, I’m sorry I took out my frustrations on you."

"Don't worry about it." She wrapped her arm through his. For just that moment, he felt capable of anything. "And your name is?"

He would play along. "Mitch."

The walk in St. Louis Square helped clear his head. She shared a few stories about her dad, and her mom. About life going on after a loved one dying. It would be savvy business to keep Tess close and get the information he needed, but it was her smile that he needed most right now. She made him believe he was going to be fine.

"Okay then, Miss Sunshine. Where did you come from?"

She winked. "Miami. Guess I match the state motto then as I come from the ‘Sunshine State’.”

"You're from Miami?” His mother had been from there. It was where his parents met and fell in love, although his father had to marry a woman of his class, a young woman chosen for him by his family.

"Yeah. Born and raised."

"I was technically born there though my mother moved soon after. In his will, my father left me property in Key Biscayne."

Part of Mitch wondered what was in the palm trees there that made his mother stick with a man who told her he had to marry another. What kind of guy kept a woman when he couldn't give her his name? He'd never do that.

"That's a beautiful part of Miami."

Mitch shrugged. He was the exact same age as his half-brother, Peter, not that it mattered. "I don't remember. We moved around so much."

They circled back toward the cathedral. Tess let out a throaty sound and asked, "What was it like to go to elementary school in Paris?"

Mitch’s eyebrows arched. "That was in your records about me?"

Tess’s cheeks tinged rose. "Once I found out you were probably related to my boss, I put all my efforts into finding out everything I could about you.” She folded and unfolded her arms while she looked at the ground. “But the question was for me, not work."

They were in Paris because his mother had almost broken up with their father and he’d moved her to keep her hooked. Dependent on him. For Mitch, Paris was school and tours, but he also recalled his mother's tears, which he wouldn’t mention.

"The American school in Paris was taught in English, so I imagine I took the same classes as you. My mother followed my father around the world. Wherever he wanted her, she’d go. We’d be put into the next American school so our curriculum remained steady."

She brushed her hand against his and didn’t pull it away. "Still, Paris looks breathtaking in photos."

They stepped onto the cobblestones that would take them back to the church. The somberness would soon return to his life and this bit of respite would end. He walked slower. "Have you never been?”

"I've gone to many parts of South and Central America, mostly with school or business, but never Europe or Asia."

"Why not?"

Having her beside him in Venice as they sipped coffee and overlooked the water from their hotel room played in his head. It was an image of a life that felt completely strange and foreign.

She adjusted her glasses. "I’ve recently started work at Morgan Enterprises and I have to save up my money. One day, though."

Her eyes might be even bigger if she took the black-rimmed frames off entirely. "You just started, but you're here?" She was beautiful—how could Peter not notice?

"I know. A few months ago, I was scooping ice cream. Now, here I am."

Her story made him pause. He massaged his chin and stared at her. "Are you sure that Peter isn’t interested?"

"No! He’s married!" Her hand flew to her chest. "I told you that he’s in love with his wife."

So many people had no respect for marriage, rings, or promises of a ring. What his mother experienced and how he grew up was not a situation any child should see or understand.

"My mother was in love with a married man all her life." A spark of shame surprised him. Yes, he’d understood Axel’s anger that day he’d stormed out although he’d done the responsible thing and stayed to care for his mom.

She hugged her waist and turned toward the door. "That's not me."

"I apologize." Tess seemed more innocent than the usual type he met. Not that he’d been looking for anybody in particular.

Church bells rang, signaling the service was about to begin.

Tess dropped her hands to her sides. "It sounds like you should be in there.”

"Would you have dinner with me, Tess?"

The question flew out of his mouth, but he knew he'd be alone in his huge mansion in the Garden District later, pacing the floors. For some unfathomable reason his mother had requested that the family not gather and he assumed his brothers would all go home. A few hours with Tess might stop the loneliness.

The church bells grew louder. He shouldn’t have said anything.

She removed her glasses to stare at him. "What?"

"Never mind." His face heated.

"Wait.” She caressed his forearm. “I'd love to."

Because it was her job? Or because of their chemistry? It didn’t matter. "Great. I'm looking forward to it.”

He ushered her inside ahead of him. Once he followed, the weight of where he was, and why, fell on his shoulders. Fiona Dupree was no more, even if he felt like she was there, watching the entire show. No one said anything as he joined Galen, Axel, and Damien near the casket. His mother had wanted him to enjoy life, but this was not the time for sunshine or happiness.