Griff walked up to his bike, whipped off his cap and jammed on his helmet. Knowing he was well disguised, he straddled the bike and watched the passing traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular.
He’d do it all again, of course he would. He’d do anything to protect Sian and Sam and never considered them a burden or a drag.
But he was so damn sick of being portrayed as an attention-seeking publicity hound, the bad boy performer.
He’d once been respected as a consummate professional and he desperately wanted to restore his reputation. It was, he thought, the right time to do that. Sian was stable and the entertainment industry wasn’t focused on her anymore. Sam was thriving. Griff was thirty-five years old and he’d been keeping a low profile lately—well, a lot lower than before—and this ball, elegant and exclusive, would set the tone for his comeback and whatever came next in his career.
He could do the concert, see how he was received, and then decide what path to follow.
And bonus, he’d be working with the stunningly sexy Kinga Ryder-White, she of the long, lanky body, short, bright blond hair. And eyes the color of secrets and sass.
Yeah, so far the Ryder International ball was turning out to be a damn good deal.
Penelope
Watching from the windows of their private sitting room situated in one of the two wings of Callum’s sprawling mansion, Penelope watched James walk up the path from the beach, his hair windblown and his cheeks pink with cold. But no matter the weather, whenever they came to Ryder’s Rest, he’d take his to-go cup of coffee to the beach and spend some time staring at the sea.
Her husband was a creature of habit, Penelope thought. She liked that about him. Unlike her, James was an open book.
Penelope poured herself another cup of coffee and flipped open her crocodile-skin diary to check her schedule for today. She had Pilates at eleven, lunch with friends at one and a meeting with the Ryder Foundation CEO at four to discuss the many requests for funding and grants that the foundation regularly received. It was always hard to prioritize need and so many people needed their help...
Pen hoped she managed to concentrate long enough to make a meaningful contribution to the discussion.
Her thoughts, since doing that stupid DNA test, had been scattered and her attention span was minimal. Picking up her coffee cup, she walked back over to the window and stared down at Dead Man’s Cove, thinking back on her life and the choices she made.
And the consequences of those choices.
But in time, she’d learned to live with the guilt and the emptiness, and she’d devoted herself to raising her two girls as best she could. Now in her late fifties, Pen had thought that the past was far behind her and that her secret was safe.
Callum’s “gift” of a DNA test had flipped that belief on its head.
Penelope heard James step into the room and turned to look at him. His blond hair was tousled, and he looked tired and stressed. No, she corrected, James was always stressed. Working for his demanding and unappreciative father was difficult beyond measure. He looked like his uncle, she realized with a pang.
“Morning, Pen.”
Penelope returned his subdued greeting. They hadn’t been in love when they married; the union had been, to an extent, an arranged marriage. Her parents were friends of the Ryder-Whites—and she’d been considered suitable, rich, educated, and of the right social class to join the Ryder-White clan. Callum never suspected she was anything other than another debutante in her early twenties, an educated, innocent, wealthy man’s daughter who had, like so many of her friends, spent a year abroad.
But somehow, despite the massive secret she kept from him, she and James had made their marriage work, by becoming friends first, then lovers, then parents.
They’d raised two beautiful girls, and if James had had an affair, or a few, he’d been discreet. She wasn’t emotional about her marriage or her husband, and fully expected him to stray: it was what men—her father included—did.
Her marriage was stable. They were rich, popular, respected...semi-famous. She didn’t want anything to change and the secrets of her life before James to be revealed.
“Are you okay, Pen?” James asked, coming up to stand beside her.
Pen started to tell him she was fine, but on seeing his worried eyes, shook her head. “Not really. Are you?”
James shrugged. Pen sighed, knowing James wasn’t one to rock the boat. Her husband’s sweet nature and his hatred of conflict were why Callum treated him like a servant. Her father-in-law was a bully, and like all bullies, he only respected people who stood up to him.
“Just tired,” James lied. “I feel like I’m on a treadmill and there’s no getting off.”
When she looked at him, she frowned at the emotion in his eyes. Working for his father had worn him down, and she wished, sometimes desperately, that they could run away, start again.
But unfortunately, some things followed you wherever you went.
James stared out the window, his square jawline taut. With his thick blond hair turning silver, blue eyes and fit body, her husband was still a gorgeous man. She was lucky to be married to him, lucky to enjoy the fabulous lifestyle he provided, to be respected and even, occasionally, feted.
That could change...