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, bless her heart, 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 shecouldn’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