Page 29 of Parting Shot

“Detective?”

The officer who leaned into the room, who had not checked with me to see if Terrence Moss could come in, was apparently back from his break—or the restroom or wherever he had been—and ready to ask me if I wanted to see a Mr. Sutter.

“Please.” I swallowed hard, wondering what I was going to say and what all Aaron had been told.

Had he dispatched men to check on me, look for me, find out what was going on with me, or not? We were supposed to keep in touch, but I was held for five days. As far as he knew, I was just not taking his calls. Or had he been briefed on everything that had happened to me? There was no way of knowing what kind of information money like his could buy.

The question was answered when a version of Aaron, but not Aaron, walked into the room.

“You’re the brother?”

“Yes. I’m Maxwell Sutter.”

He was beautiful too, golden, like the original. But while Aaron had laugh lines in the corners of his eyes, a swagger to his walk, and a slow, sexy grin, Max resembled a model. Everything was perfect, not a hair out of place. His jacket and tie were expertly pressed, his manicure was shiny, and so were his teeth when he smiled. Really, he belonged in the Hamptons or on a yacht, welcoming guests aboard. Even if you didn’t know who he was, you knew he was rich. His very presence screamed good breeding and money.

“Detective Stiel?”

My eyes narrowed as I wondered what in the world he was doing there.

He reached the end of my bed and stared at me, taking all of me in for a moment before he took a breath and began. “I don’t know if you know, but my brother is fighting my father for control of our family company.”

I was quiet for a minute, sizing up Max before I spoke. “Yeah, I heard.”

He cleared his throat and came around the bed. “Well, what started out as something very ordinary, just our father sort of throwing his weight around, has become much bigger.”

“Okay.”

He moved closer, and between the worry in his eyes, the furrowed brows, and the way he was crossing his arms, I got that whatever he was talking about was a really big deal.

“What did your father do?”

“He got a lot of people to vote their proxy shares.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means that votes Aaron thought he had—because they would vote the way they always had in the past—are suddenly alive and need to be courted.”

“And you’re here why?”

“Because there can’t be any reason for someone not to be swayed by Aaron,” he answered. “It’s vital that he not be involved in any impropriety or scandal.”

I was tired and hurt, but my brain still functioned. “Your brother could lose the company to your father if anyone finds out about me and him.”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Does he know you’re here?”

Slowly, he nodded. “Yes, he does. He really wanted to come, but he simply can’t. He’s doing a charity fundraiser tonight with the mayor and then flying to Brussels tomorrow morning. I’m going with him.”

I coughed, which hurt my broken ribs quite a bit. “So when will you two be back in Chicago?”

“I’m not sure,” he said and sounded almost sad.

I understood. I did. Me more than most people. Aaron Sutter couldn’t be gay any more than I could. It didn’t go with the image, with the job, and now there was no reason for me to rock the boat. He was stepping away from me because he had to.

“It’s really great you guys are putting up a united front,” I complimented him. “Nice that you’re on your brother’s side.”

“He’s making me the public face of the company.” He beamed at me. “Which he said was something he had talked to you about, actually.”