Secret Heir

  Secret Heir

  Victoria Pinder

  Love in a Book

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Also by Victoria Pinder

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Secret Heir

  Copyright©2017

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Copyright © 2017 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book

  All rights reserved.

  This book is dedicated to my wonderful editor, Traci Hall, who has really helped me make this book shine. Thank you so much for the encouragement and for helping me fix my craft!

  1

  Mitch Morgan III, on the verge of collapse from sheer exhaustion, stared down the long, empty hall of his mother’s penthouse suite overlooking the Mississippi River. Fiona Dupree had just passed. He’d never tell a soul, but he felt as if he could at last sleep, now that his mother no longer needed him to be awake.

  Footsteps echoed on the silk carpet runner and he glanced at the nurse who had been at his mother’s side. A new woman, Marie or something. She quickly averted her gaze as she handed him paperwork, then picked up the phone and called the funeral home, her whispers secretive. Was she trying to spare his feelings?

  This was it. Mitch stood from the padded armchair and returned the papers allowing transport of his mother's remains.

  “I’m sorry,” the nurse murmured without once looking at him.

  Mitch lowered his eyes. He was done with accepting apologies for things out of anyone's control. The end had been coming for over a year. Fiona was now at peace.

  He hoped she’d found solace. It was time for him and his brothers to make amends, starting with a call to Axel. His mother's heart attack had come a month after Axel exploded during a bitter family argument, saying Fiona never should have loved their father—a married man.

  Part of Mitch understood the feeling. His father had only been there part-time, making their mom happy for those few months he was around. Then he’d leave again, crushing her, until he found time to be away from his legitimate family and with them once more. These last months, his mother had fretted that his father’s wife would not allow her to be buried next to the man she loved.

  Waiting for paperwork took too long. Once the nurse nodded at him, letting him know everything was complete, Mitch walked away. With every step, he knew he'd never return—they’d hire a company to clean the penthouse and put it up for sale. His mind swirled.

  The need to prove himself itched at his skin and the very fiber of his being. His banking empire was the fastest growing business in New Orleans, and the offers to buy it rolled in daily. He'd never sell. This was his ticket to wrestle the House of Morgan and Morgan Enterprises out of Peter's hands. Their father had another family, a real family. When his dad had died, he and his brothers hadn’t even been invited to the funeral.

  They had always been second, but now that his mother was gone, nothing would stop him from being number one.

  Mitch made his way outside. The sun and humidity hitting his skin made him long for a shower. Thirty seconds later, his driver pulled up to the curb. Without waiting for him to get out and open his door, Mitch slipped inside.

  "The church, Pierre."

  Mitch slumped into his seat and took his cell phone out of his pocket. Galen and Damien needed to be told right away. He took a deep breath. Signing the papers had been as surreal as holding her hand while she passed. The end had been so quiet that he’d sat for another hour, waiting, just in case the nurse was wrong. Galen wouldn’t have to take the next eight-hour shift at their mother’s penthouse.

  Mitch dialed, his brother answering on the first ring. "Hello?"

  "Galen..." The sentence wouldn't form in his throat. How did he tell him their mom was gone? Galen was patient and funny and made Mom laugh.

  Silence hung in the air as Pierre drove into the French Quarter.

  "Has Mom...?" Galen’s sentence trailed off.

  "Yeah."

  “Damien?”

  “I’ll call him next.”

  Galen coughed. Hard heels clapped against wood and Mitch imagined him pacing his office. "Mitch, this sucks. Have you found Axel?"

  The angry one.

  Axel had stormed out the day they all received their inheritance, telling the banker his money could burn for all he cared—and then his fight with their mother. None of them had seen their brother since, well except on TV.

  Mitch clutched his phone. "I’ll call him, too."

  Galen let out a breath. "Tell you what, I'll get Damien. We'll meet you at the penthouse."

  He wouldn’t spend another second there. He closed his eyes. "No. Mom wanted her service at St. Louis Cathedral. Meet me there and we can go over her list of things she wanted.”

  Mitch heard a jingle of keys, then a door opening, and closing. Galen chuckled sorrowfully. Two beeps sounded as he unlocked his car. "I just hope the church doesn’t fall down around me."

  None of the brothers were as religious as Fiona had raised them. "Just show up, Galen, that would make Mom happy.”

  Their mom wanted them to stick together, no matter what. Her voice replayed in his mind. “Family matters. You boys will only have each other someday.” She’d made Galen, Damien, and Mitch all swear not to bother Axel, hoping he'd come home on his own.

  Axel always let his stubbornness get the better of him. Mitch sighed. He should have called his brother sooner, despite their mother's opinion.

  Galen said, "I'll call Damien—see you in a few.”

  The driver turned onto Royal Street as Mitch dialed Axel. Two rings later, he heard the phone click, but no words. Mitch swallowed around the ache in his throat. "Axel?"

  "I'm busy, Mitch," Axel mumbled.

  "Mom died."

  None of the past mattered. Mitch's shoulders slumped in exhaustion. He pressed his lips together and waited for his brother to realize what he’d said.

  "What?" Axel shifted, muffling the speaker and then in a clearer tone asked, "How? When?"

  If he were Axel, he'd be extremely angry. At least Mitch had the chanc
e to hold her hand and listen to her advice about not seeking revenge and finding a pretty woman to settle down with. This past year, his mother suddenly became big on marriage, although she had never married. She’d said she’d realized her mistake and didn’t want her kids to make the same. Not that Mitch blamed marriage—it was love that made you insane.

  "Heart attack, months ago, but she’s been growing weaker and more frail since. She's finally at rest."

  "I didn't know."

  Axel's anguish echoed through him. If their roles were reversed, Mitch would want to be alone so no one saw his tears. As the responsible one, he’d sat at her side, though her sudden turn for the worse at the end made him numb. He closed his eyes and wished he had called his brother sooner. He would have wanted to at least say goodbye. Now Axel wouldn’t have his chance, not like the rest of them had.

  Mitch massaged the bridge of his nose. "She didn't want to make you feel guilty—she understands your anger."

  "Well, I do now. It wasn't her I was mad at, anyway. Not really."

  The strain in Axel's voice was naked, raw, and full of pain. Mitch believed him.

  Pierre parked the town car at the curb. He’d take the path through the garden, to the cathedral. Their mother would want them all there. Plus, he wanted to see Axel again—he missed his brother.

  "Will you come home for the funeral? We are meeting at St. Louis Cathedral to discuss the arrangements."

  "Of course." His brother sounded like he hit a wall or something. “I’ll get my band to either cancel the next stop or hire a guest for the gig.”

  "See you soon,” Mitch said softly as he pulled the phone away from his ear. Indigo 5 could do without their keyboardist for a few days.

  He pocketed his phone, staring out the car window. The stress was too much. He focused on every breath, inhale and exhale, like the counting would help him get through this sorrow.

  Pierre turned from the front seat and interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. Morgan, you're getting a call."

  "I don't care about business today." Mitch reached for the interior handle. There was no peace to be had. He opened the door and climbed out.

  The driver hopped out and raced around to Mitch’s side, one hand on the roof of the town car. "Your mom was a good woman. May she rest in peace."

  Mitch patted Pierre on the shoulder and nodded. "She was the best."

  Good women were rare, and he knew he'd never find one as gentle-hearted, not that he intended to look. His parents’ example was exactly why he needed to avoid the word “love” in any romantic relationship.

  As he walked through the garden, he heard a family laughing on the green grass and jazz music from street performers on the main street beyond. His shoulders lifted. The familiar scent of the Mississippi River clung to the air and gave this area a unique flavor. After meeting with the priest, perhaps he'd get a coffee before returning home.

  Savoring the chicory coffee played in his mind; a reason to live. The dark thought caught him off guard. He swallowed as he quickened his steps on the cobblestone pathway. How could he bear the pain? At least Mom is no longer suffering.

  As he neared the entrance, he saw his two darker-haired brothers standing tall outside. Galen quickly put out his cigarette as if he hoped Mitch hadn't seen. He wouldn’t judge today. "Galen, Damien..."

  Galen lowered his head and whispered, "I can’t believe it."

  Guilt wasn't good. They had talked about how to continue their lives while still having one of them around their mother at all hours. They had worked as a team. Mitch would feel the same if it hadn't been his turn to be there.

  He tucked his hand behind his back and kept his head down, too. They’d each taken a few hours of their day to visit her so she was never alone too long without family. "It was so fast and peaceful at the end, as if she just gave up fighting."

  "That isn’t like her, but I saw the same thing. Did you contact Axel?” Damien asked. Galen stepped back and Mitch wondered what Axel and Galen had said to each other before Axel took off on his motorcycle, after the blow up. It had seemed personal, so Mitch hadn’t pressed. "Yeah. He’s coming."

  "He wasn't happy with Dad or Mom," Galen stated as they walked toward the entrance of the church.

  Mitch reached for the door. "I know he feels bad about Mom, at least. Let's just go inside and make the arrangements."

  A layperson escorted the brothers to the priest, who saw them right away. Nobody would ever ignore the Morgan name, even the bastard foursome. One day soon, the rest of the Morgans would pay for how they treated his family. His parents should have had the right to marry. His family should have been the legitimate branch.

  2

  "Tess Taylor," Peter Morgan called from behind the partially opened office door.

  Her name reverberated in the air. She stood and glanced at her mother's empty desk as she fixed her skirt. This was her second chance at a job she desperately needed in order to prove herself. She gripped her file folder to her chest, praying her nerves didn’t show, and walked through the glass door. Despite what her ex-fiancé, Kevin, had said, there was always a second chance.

  On the wall was a portrait of Peter Morgan and his new wife. Seriously. Who has their portrait painted these days? She turned toward the mahogany desk, seeing pictures of Peter Morgan's nieces and nephews. The family portraits somehow made him more human, and she relaxed her shoulders.

  "Yes, Mr. Morgan?"

  "Peter, please. I'm not my father."

  He pointed to the chair across from him. She perched on the edge of the white leather cushion, concerned that even a smudge of ink might ruin it. Her mother’s cautionary tones warred through her head. She’d not screw up…again.

  Peter stared at her with intense brown eyes.

  Shoot. She needed to respond. She swallowed and tried to remove her hand from the folder without it shaking. "Yes, sir. Peter."

  Peter leaned back in his chair and twirled a pen in his fingers. "Tess, you seem nervous, so I want to make something very clear. I hired you less than a month ago, because your mother is the best secretary I ever had—and your father was a great financial manager. I’m very sorry for your loss."

  “Thank you.” Her father had died from a heart attack two days after her wedding plans were canceled a year ago. Her fiancé had dumped her after she’d lost a huge account, saying that her failure could hurt his career. She straightened her posture.

  Tess had worked in New York City’s Financial District and her first client was a multi-million dollar tech company that had created a platform for the Internet to run faster. She’d thought the owner’s sister was trustworthy and divulged her brother’s intention on stocks at a bar. She’d assumed that other families were like hers, but had been very wrong. Fired and disgraced, Tess had lost everything.

  There was no way she'd ruin this chance. Miami was her home, and she now had her foot in the door of Morgan Enterprises.

  She pushed her eyeglasses up her nose. "I understand."

  "I chose you over thousands of Ivy League applicants because I know your family. They are dedicated, top-notch employees."

  Her mind translated that to “Don’t screw this up”. She nodded, her lips in a thin line.

  Peter sat forward and put his pen on the desk, his gaze never leaving hers. She swallowed. “I need you to perform on their level. You are to ensure our acquisition of United Trust Bank. Consider the acquisition your probationary period. Okay?"

  Was this a way to get rid of her? Had he only hired her because her mom begged him to? This didn’t help her nerves. Failure hovered like a black cloud. Kevin hadn’t even come to their apartment to collect his clothes because he’d been too mortified over her mistake at work. Nothing she’d accomplished before that mattered. She’d been stuck with the label of corporate financial failure.

  Until now. She sat absolutely still, refusing to tremble. There was no way she'd mess this up, which meant showing Peter the information she’d discovered online. She p
eeled the folder away from her chest as he turned to stare at his computer, silently implying it was time for her to leave. She took a deep breath and held the folder out.

  "Sir, about United Trust... There is something you should know."

  "Yes?" He turned from his computer to look at her, tilting his head.

  "Their CEO..."

  He stared at her. Coldness inched up her spine. Giving him information, even if it was unpleasant, was her job. She couldn’t be intimidated. Her best friend, Caro, had said Peter Morgan was great to work with. Even her adopted sister, Jess, who had just finished her college internship here, said nothing but amazing things about Morgan Enterprises.

  Sensing her hesitation, he raised his eyebrows. "The man is clearly very intelligent and knows his business. How else could he bring that small local bank to such great heights? If it can be done, I'll want him on my team.” Peter turned to the computer again.

  Dismissed. She was being an idiot, letting her nerves rattle her common sense. Her hands shook as she offered the file. "Yes, but sir..."

  He swiveled his seat around. "What?"

  She avoided eye contact by opening the folder to show him what her research had uncovered. “His name is Mitch Morgan."

  He took the file from her, eyes narrowed. "Is somebody using my father’s name?"

  "No. Mitch Morgan is your age, sir. Here are the pictures." Thick and wavy dark blond hair, blue eyes, and in perfect physical shape—he was a dream come true.

  Peter tapped his temple as he stared at the photo. "Wait. I recognize him. Wow, he looks a lot like my father."