She slowly made her way around the tables. “And the first step in that direction is by choosing someone from among you to take the helm of part of Fortune Cosmetics.” She patted the air soothingly at the shocked eruption that ensued. “It doesn’t matter your background,” she said. “I don’t care if you are Harvard-educated or if you’ve made your way courtesy of a GED and gutsy determination. If your experience is in a boardroom—” she touched one dark-haired man on the shoulder lightly “—or in a mechanics’ shop.” She smiled at Mr. Smarty Pants, who looked like he wanted to squirm in his seat. “It’s not what you’ve done that will influence my choice, but who you are. I’m looking for a particular ingenuity and strength of character, and I know I’m going to find that ideal individual within our extended Fortune family.” She smiled broadly and spread her arms wide. “It could be any one of you!”
It was too much.
Too...freaking...much.
Ben slammed his glass down on the bar, noticing with one portion of his infuriated mind the concerned look that the pretty bartender gave him.
“Not anyone.”
Every head in the house seemed to swivel toward him.
Ben didn’t care. He stared down Kate Fortune, who was giving him a steely look from the middle of the room.
“And who might you be?”
He had steely looks of his own and he was not going to be cowed by anyone’s demands, least of all hers. “Benjamin Fortune.”
For about a millisecond, the woman appeared shocked. But then the look on her face was wiped out by one of confident authority. “I sincerely doubt that. I would have remembered putting that name on my guest list, since the real Benjamin Fortune was my first husband, may he rest in peace.”
“Oh, I am real enough.”
Kate waved off Sterling, who—along with the guard Ben had gotten past so easily—had joined her. “My Ben may have had all nature of illegitimate heirs,” she said coolly, “but they were identified years ago. So I’ll warn you, young man, that I know how to ferret out an imposter.”
“Warn away, ma’am,” he said flatly. “I’m no imposter. Any more than Jerome Fortune was.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Jerome died years ago.”
It was nothing more than he’d expected. “He’s alive and well and living right here in Austin. And if you cared as much as you claim to about family, you’d already know that.”
“Sweetheart,” Sterling suggested firmly, sliding his arm around Kate’s narrow waist, “maybe this discussion can wait.”
“Of course.” Kate’s smile widened once more, but the steel in her eyes didn’t soften as she looked around at her guests again. “This is a birthday party, after all, and what is a party without food and music and drinks? Please. Carry on!” On cue, the quartet began playing again and waiters bearing trays of food suddenly marched into the room in time to the music.
Ben wasn’t interested in food. Or music. He was only interested in having his say with this woman, once and for all.
Nor was Kate distracted from him. She spoke briefly to Sterling, who didn’t look particularly happy, before approaching Ben by herself.
“Jerome Fortune,” she said when she reached him.
“Yes.”
“We’ll see.” Her smile didn’t extend to her eyes, but she regally took Ben’s arm and headed out of the room. When Ben happened to glance back toward the bar, it seemed to him that the only person in the room who wasn’t watching and whispering was Ella from behind her bar.
When they reached a narrow hallway, Kate spoke again, her voice calm. Maybe even genuinely curious. “How did you get in this evening?”
“Courtesy of your lax security guard.”
“Hmm.” She gestured at a closed door when they approached it and he pushed it open, following her through to another hallway. The door swung closed behind them, muting the sounds of the party. “I’ve never been a fan of gate-crashers.”
“Then you should’ve done better due diligence in rounding up all your precious Fortunes when you decided to dangle this whole Fortune Cosmetics deal in front of them,” he said evenly.
She stopped next to another closed door and looked up at him, her expression calculating. “Is that what you want, Benjamin?” It was clear she didn’t believe that was actually his name. “You want a chance at running part of my company?”
He laughed abruptly, even though the only bit of humor he’d felt in months had been courtesy of Ella Thomas just a few minutes earlier. “I don’t need to run anything of yours,” he assured her. “Nor do any others in my family. We’re not money-grubbing imposters. We have no need of your wealth.”
Kate lifted a brow. “For most of my life, people have been trying to get a piece of my wealth by fair means or foul.”
His jaw tightened. “Gerald Robinson. Robinson Computers. Robinson Tech. Names mean anything to you?”
She gave him an impatient look. “Everyone in the free world has heard of them. What’s that to do with—”
“I’m Ben Robinson. I’m COO of Robinson Tech and Gerald Robinson is my father. And he is Jerome Fortune.”
“Jerome died in a boating accident.”
“And I’m telling you he didn’t. After leaving the Fortune family—” or getting kicked out, which Ben considered likely, knowing Gerald the way he did “—my father obviously reinvented himself. Rather well,” he added ironically. “Gerald Robinson is a creative visionary who went on to make his own fortune. No pun intended. What possible reason would we have for lying about anything to you?”
“If it isn’t money, then what do you want?”
Henry.
The name flashed through his mind like quicksilver, too smooth and too rapid to stop.
“Respect. Acknowledgment.” His lips twisted.
“If what you say is...accurate—”
Her hesitation made Ben wonder what word she’d originally thought to use. True?
“—then why doesn’t your father contact me directly? A man of his standing? He certainly could have done so without need of a simple party invitation.”
“There was nothing simple about your party invitation.”
She inclined her head a few inches, ceding the point. “Why wait all this time to reach out? If he’s really Jerome Fortune, why leave his family to grieve his death in the first place?” She folded her arms, giving him a chilly, expectant smile.
If he’d had an answer for her, he’d have given it.
But the truth was, he’d only recently learned that “Gerald Robinson” had never really existed. Not since his little sister, Rachel, confronted Gerald with her discovery of his true identity. And for reasons known only to their father, he was insistent on leaving the past buried.
Ben was sick to death of people lying to him, and in this one thing, he would get the truth out. Even if he had to drag the Robinsons into the light kicking and screaming.
“You and I actually do have something in common,” he finally said to Kate instead of answering. “We believe in family.”
She pursed her lips, studying him. “I’m not