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five million dollars to The Charles Foundation. Words can’t express my gratitude. His donation will allow Sir Scott's Hope House to build a modern medical facility in the heart of Ethiopia. It is the single largest contribution on record to our foundation. Mr. Kingsley, on behalf of the Hope House and all those you will be aiding, thank you from the bottom of our hearts."
    This time the applause is raucous. The attention I'm receiving is something I always try to avoid. Peeking to my right, I see Kathryn is clapping but whispering into the ear of her boy toy. She’s completely disinterested in the spectacle.
    Mrs. Swanson quietly murmurs her thanks again and asks if I'd like to make a statement. I assure her that it will be brief.
    As I step to the microphone, I see Lively sitting and clapping wildly a few tables away. Her enthusiasm softens the blow of Kathryn's disregard, but worries me, too. It seems over the top. Fanatical, even. I hope this evening with her isn’t one I will live to regret.
    "Mrs. Swanson, thank you for your kind words. However, instead of focusing on myself, I'd prefer to encourage everyone here tonight to give generously. Please, dig deep and support one of the finest charities here in Manhattan. The Swanson Foundation shines alone in its reliability and veracity. Thank you."
    The platform is turned over to the D-list celebrity emcee. He babbles on, attempts a less than stellar comedy stand-up, and then stumbles through an awkward dismissal. When he walks away from the podium, I see his brow covered in sweat, a strange display for a so-called professional.
    Hoping to have another chance to speak to Kathryn before the night's end, I walk toward her chair and see her being escorted out by The Boy. At least they're heading where I am: the exit.
    I shake a few hands, endure a couple of introductions, and rudely dismiss all attempts at conversation. I send a simple text to Eddie stating five minutes and company. I hurry toward the last spot I saw Kathryn as I try to keep her trail warm. I want to speak with her before Lively finds me.
    Approaching the gilded hallways, I find Kathryn and head straight for her. She notices me as I approach and moves her hand to her hip. A smile and laugh greet me when I come to a halt in front of her.
    "Bravo, Mr. Kingsley." Her gaze penetrates and burns me. It's a dangerous warmth that promises to smolder me. I find myself becoming a willing participant even though I know she's mocking me.
    "You know why I gave that outrageous sum, don't you?" I search her face and observe a gleam in her eyes as she throws her head back. Her delicate throat beckons me, and I long to touch and possess her with my lips. I move closer, our bodies almost touching. She senses me drawing near, drops her head, and looks at me. Her mood becomes serious, all smiles and levity disappear.
    "Of course I do. You're not that hard for me to read." I see The Boy approaching, dutifully carrying her fur coat. I realize we have only seconds before he's standing beside us.
    Kathryn continues. "And for the record, I'm thankful for your gift, but not terribly impressed. There's more to life than money. Believe me, I know."
    She turns to her side as the young nuisance descends on us. "Kathryn, here's your coat." The young man looks at me inquisitively, sizing me up. As they stand side by side, I notice something: a resemblance. There is something about them. They could almost be siblings. The color of their eyes leads me to this conclusion. A matching deep blue, trending toward violent.
    "Thank you, John." He assists her with her coat. "I'd like to introduce you to Adam Kingsley. Mr. Kingsley, this is my brother, John Swanson." She finishes her introduction with a coy smile.
    "Excuse me, but did you say 'your brother ?'" Wait a second. He's her brother? Shit.
    "Yes, I'm her brother. Our mother is Ava Swanson." He pushes his hand my way, expecting a handshake and I dutifully comply. "Pleasure to meet you. Let's