Page 14 of Forbidden Eyes

“And, do whatever Logan has on the schedule. Carter is overseeing him. You can ask him questions. Business. That’s what you want to understand, right?”

“Very well, Uncle Quinn.” I know he’s placating me. But right now, I’m winning, and I know this could have gone a lot worse.

I go over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. Ever since I was little, I’ve insisted on hugging him, even though he isn’t comfortable with that kind of affection. It's become a standing event to offer him my hugs, and feel his awkward reply, each time he's been to visit us.

“A few days. Then you’re on a plane back to New York.”

“Great. Of course.” My fingers cross out of sight.

He rounds his desk and grabs his phone, punches a few buttons and waits a moment.

Logan strolls into his office less than two minutes later.

“What’s up, Pops. Whoa, Fia. What are you doing here?” He flicks his eyes between his dad and me.

“She’s here to do the same as you for a couple of days. Work experience before she buries herself in the next layer of education. Isn’t that right?” Quinn prompts.

“Yeah. Work experience. You don’t mind? Uncle Quinn said you’re learning things at the moment, anyway.”

Logan, the spitting image of his father, stands there lost as to what to do next.

“Great. Alright.” He pushes the words out between clenched teeth.

We’re cousins who've seen each other only a handful of times over the last ten years. We can hardly call each other friends.

“But first, you’ll take Sofia home, fill your Mom in and take the day off. Carter can go with you. Whatever.” Quinn waves his hand as if dismissing us.

“Okay.” I shrug my bag onto my back and wait for Logan to lead the way. I’ve never met Carter anyway. Guess now is as good a time as any.

Logan smirks at me, now acting every part the Cane I guess he wants to be. He doesn’t hide the drop of his eyes to my chest, and my scowl tells him I noticed.

“Um, right. I’ll just head back out then and meet Carter. Fill him in.” He indicates with his thumbs that he’s going to duck out, and I’m left waiting.

I’m not thrilled by the idea of Logan’s company for the next few days, but in the space of ten minutes, I’ve gotten closer to the business Quinn operates in than I’ve ever done with my father’s. The business that has my name all over it; if I choose to take his surname after all. The business that I’m barred from asking about or knowing what it does to earn me the allowance and luxury that I’ve been brought up surrounded by.

As I wait for Logan, my eyes drift to Quinn, already back behind his desk, his fingers on his keyboard again, and wonder why I’ve never met Carter before. It’s not a question I’ve thought of before now. I’ve heard the name on occasion, either from Logan or overhearing Quinn and Dad speaking, but he never came with Logan when we met up. It was like he wasn’t really part of the family even though he’s always been there. I’ve never even seen a picture of him. He’s older than Logan and me, though. Maybe he wasn’t able to come, or maybe he was just working, doing all this business stuff.

Uncle Quinn sighs and breaks me from my thoughts, now playing with his dice rather than typing, worry etched into his brow. I frown and shrug my bag tighter. I know what situation I’ve put him in. When my dad finds out I came here and that Quinn didn’t tell him immediately, there will be more than just tension to worry about.

Time ticks on, and anxiety about still being here creeps over me, like I’m intruding. I need to get out of this office before Quinn has a change of heart.

“Look, I’m happy to make my own–” I start.

“Carter, it’s fine. A detour. No problem.” Logan’s voice carries as he waltzes back into the office.

But it isn’t Logan I'm drawn to watching.

It’s the man next to him.

Holy shit.

“The sooner you have your own responsibilities, the sooner you'll understand,” he comments before he looks over to me. The moment he does, I freeze, like I’ve been caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

His face is expressionless, indicating neither anger nor pleasure. It’s blank, but I can see his eyes take in everything about the room. Including me. Processing. Analysing.

“Carter, meet Sofia Vico. My niece.”

He nods, a fraction of a movement that doesn’t dislodge a single one of his dirty-blond hairs. His forest-green eyes remain on me, and I feel heat gather in the pit of my stomach and race towards my cheeks. As I continue to stare, I notice a scar on his chin, trailing down to hide beneath the collar of his shirt. I absently wonder how far it reaches.