“What is it?” Madeline asked, obviously sensing Sloane’s distress.
“Nothing. I just … I need a minute to think.” Sloane gripped the glass once more, trying to remain calm.
Frank had threatened Samson, the man she’d just discovered was her biological father, which presented her with an emotional minefield and imminent danger. And Sloane had no doubt Frank didn’t issue idle threats, especially if his life’s work was at stake, and he considered Michael Carlisle’s bid for the vice presidency, and eventually the presidency, his mission.
It was the Carlisle family mission as well. All of them had worked hard for this moment. Even knowing the huge lie he’d told her, Sloane wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to prevent her father from achieving his dreams.
But someone had to warn Samson that he was in danger, and there was no one else to do it but Sloane. She rolled the glass between her hands, the cool condensation dampening her skin. She had no choice but to find her biological father. Acknowledge their connection. She shivered at the thought, both unnerved and intrigued at the same time.
What would she do when she met him? Sloane wondered. Extend her hand and introduce herself, for one thing. Ask him what he wanted from her father, for another. Find out what kind of threat he posed. And hopefully be the one to diffuse any potential problem between him and her father’s men.
But she couldn’t reveal Frank’s threat now or Madeline would never let Sloane go see the man. Not without the Secret Service following her, which would alert Frank and defeat her main purpose.
She sat forward to ease the cramping in her stomach, nerves threatening to overwhelm her.
She met her stepmother’s silent stare. “I want to meet him.” Sloane couldn’t bring herself to call the man her father. She could barely bring herself to speak, let alone carry out her plan. One step at a time, she’d find the courage.
“You want to meet Samson?” Madeline asked, obviously taken off guard.
Sloane nodded.
Madeline inclined her head, taking time to think. “Okay.”
“What?” Sloane had expected an argument.
“I’ve always known, even if your father didn’t, that this day would come. And your mother left a letter for you. She had no way of knowing she wouldn’t live to see you grow up, but she was pragmatic and she planned ahead just in case.” Madeline rose and walked over to where Sloane stood. “It’s home. In the safe. And as soon as we’re back there—”
“I can’t wait. I want to meet him now.”
“Now?” Madeline asked, startled. “Don’t you want to take time and absorb the news? Talk to your father first?”
“No!” She wasn’t ready to face Michael today. Not until she’d met her biological parent. Not until she warned him of any potential danger. And not until she’d secured the safety of her father’s campaign. She had too much on her mind to deal with the emotions that would surely erupt if she had to confront him about his lie. “Is Samson still in Yorkshire Falls? Do you know?”
Frank would know, but Sloane couldn’t tell him anything. And Michael might know, but the same emotional considerations were involved. She just couldn’t face her father now.
“Yorkshire Falls is as good a guess as any,” Madeline said, resignation in her voice. “I’ll explain things to your father. In the meantime, take my car,” she said, reaching for her purse.
“I’ll rent one.” Under an assumed name, she thought, but Sloane didn’t mention that. She couldn’t afford anyone tracing her whereabouts. She pressed a hand against her stomach, but she couldn’t still her raging case of nerves. “What about Dad’s press conference?”
Madeline pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “If anyone asks, I’ll say you’re sick. Holed up in your room. Your father will cover for you too. What about your business?”
Sloane hadn’t thought about her interior-design business since she’d fled this hotel last night. “I already took a long weekend off to be around for your visit. I guess I can put my clients off for a few more days.” She didn’t think it would take that long to find the man who was her real father.
“Okay, but I want you protected.”
“No. No Secret Service. No detectives. No one. I need to do this alone.” She folded her arms across her chest. She wasn’t budging on this one. Not an inch.
“You have that look.” Madeline’s damp eyes twinkled.
“What look?”
“The one you’d get as a kid. I’m not eating broccoli and you can’t make me. That look.”
Sloane laughed. The memories she had with both Michael and Madeline were wonderful. She just wished they weren’t based on one huge life-altering lie. “I didn’t eat it, as I recall.”
Her stepmother sighed. “So no Secret Service either. But you will check in? Often?”
“I promise.”
They shared another hug and Sloane headed out the back elevator, avoiding the press that had begun to gather out front. She’d pack and be on her way.
To meet and warn Samson Humphrey.
At this moment, she didn’t know which was more important.
* * *
After the press conference, where Senator Carlisle’s oldest daughter was conspicuously absent, Chase followed Roman to meet Madeline Carlisle, who was busy shaking hands with her husband’s supporters.
She took one look at Roman and a genuine smile replaced the one she’d obviously pasted on for the masses and she excused herself. “A family friend is here and I can’t disappoint family,” she said.
Roman laughed and pulled her aside. “You mean you’ve had enough handshaking for the day? You’d better get used to it.”
“Don’t I know it.” Her warmth was unmistakable. “Who’s this handsome devil next to you?” She turned to Chase and, without waiting for an introduction, said, “I’m Madeline Carlisle.”
“Chase Chandler.” He stepped forward and shook the woman’s hand. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Madeline looked him over, approval in her gaze. “Your mother is one lucky woman. Is the third brother as handsome?”
“Not if you ask us,” Roman said wryly.
Chase laughed at his brother’s dry sense of humor. “You’re also fortunate. I saw your daughters and they’re beautiful,” he said of the twins.
Madeline beamed. “He’s a charmer, just like you, Roman.”
“Of course he is.” Roman chuckled, then glanced around, seemingly searching for someone. “Where’s Sloane?”
The smile on Madeline’s face dimmed. “She’s … not quite herself.”
“Well, I hope she’s feeling better soon.” Roman took her hand. “Madeline, I’ve told you Chase publishes the Yorkshire Falls Gazette,” he said, his concern turning to business matters. “It’s Jacqueline’s hometown and I told him I could persuade you to do an interview. Since you haven’t done many to date, I was hoping you’d give my brother an exclusive.”
“I’d be more than happy to follow any guidelines you set out,” Chase explained. “I’m just looking for something extra. You have to know the public is interested in you. Your family is so politically perfect, the world would benefit from an inside look. And you’d get the opportunity to introduce the private side of your husband as seen from your perspective.”