Trey by Christie Ridgway

Author:Christie Ridgway [Ridgway, Christie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

At noon the next day, Trey stared out the penthouse windows overlooking Paris, his phone to his ear. His cousin Brock droned on about the McKinney deal and some issue with the IT department. If he noticed Trey’s lack of response, he didn’t say anything. The business text and emails had by and large dried up ever since he’d talked to his assistant, Jer, the day before. He’d told him a serious family matter was taking up all Trey’s time, and surprise, surprise, whatever the other man—now worth double his weight in gold—had passed on made the vast majority of the usual suspects who clamored for his attention back off.

Except Brock, who’d texted last night to insist Trey call at six a.m. Boston time. Yet even he sounded tentative when he cleared his throat. “Uh, Trey?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you making any headway with Aunt Claire? Learning anything?”

“A little,” he said, not admitting his mom was off in another country. “Nothing to share at the moment though.”

He closed his eyes, fully aware the truth was going to have to come out. But not right now, when he was still becoming accustomed to the idea. Though hadn’t he always known there was something different about himself? He’d chalked it up to being the eldest, to being the one expected to carry the company forward, but perhaps Claire and Graham had treated him differently than the others because of the way he was conceived.

Yeah, it was going to come out that he wasn’t truly a Blackthorne and that—hell, a new thought struck. Hard.

While he still shared blood with his brothers, there was no genetic commonality between him and the three “cousins” who’d been raised alongside him. Brock and Phillip and Jason were no more related to him than strangers.

A great…something welled inside him. A disconnect, he thought. Or just emptiness. A void where his identity used to take up so much space. Graham Wallace Blackthorne III, the heft of that gone.

“Hell,” he muttered.

“Maybe you should come back,” Brock said suddenly. “Yes. I definitely think you should come back.”

“Why’s that?” Trey frowned. “Wasn’t it you who insisted I come to Paris in the first place?”

“You sound tired. Not like yourself.”

Trey laughed, the sound short and jagged. “And a few hours at my desk will cure all my ills, right? You guys are getting on just fine without me.” Their privately owned company, ruled by the iron hand of Graham Wallace II, didn’t really require an Executive Vice President of Operations, Trey’s title. They all knew it was merely his waiting position until the current CEO decided to retire and step down.

It had been his waiting position. Now…

“Paris doesn’t seem to suit you,” Brock said, then hesitated. “I’m picking up on something in your voice.”

Trey felt his mouth curve up, despite everything. “Jenna’s putting you in touch with your feelings. Cute.”

This time his cous—Brock—laughed. “Don’t think you can distract me by insulting my manhood. Or talk of Jenna, either, though I admit I could spend an hour describing all the ways she’s perfect for me.

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