Family Pride (Blood of the Pride) Read Online Free PDF

friends with them and worked for Michael’s father for the rest of their lives. Both families saw the importance of making sure Michael married a good woman, a strong woman who could take the social reins and keep the company running on that front. Go to the charity meetings, smile for the cameras and organize the dinner parties.”
    “What a wonderful life,” I said.
    The smile vanished. “It’s not a perfect marriage but it works for us. And I’ll not have Brandon jeopardizing the fortune his family’s made on some woman he picked up in a bar. He deserves a woman who can handle this side of the business, not someone used to slinking around in the shadows and who doesn’t know which fork to use at a formal dinner.”
    I smiled.
    She gave me a confused look. This was a woman used to threatening and getting what she wanted.
    Too bad.
    “I guess we’ll have to leave that up to Bran.” I sliced off another piece of beef. “Last time I checked he was of legal age and able to do what he wanted. Besides—” I lifted the bloody chunk up to eye level, “—if you check your file again you’ll see I’m very capable of handling myself.”
    It was a threat and I intended it to be seen as such.
    Bernadette’s eyes widened before she regained control. “Enjoy the steak.” She turned away and joined the conversation between the other two Hanovers, letting me dwell on the oddities of parents.
    The small talk went from Bran’s newest published article on the death of Mike Hancock, a fellow journalist, to general chat about the stock market trends to the number of charities the Hanovers nursed in one form or another. The entire time I watched the two elder Hanovers watch Bran watching me for any sign I was about to snap.
    The chocolate mousse chosen for dessert was light and fluffy, melting in my mouth with only the memory of sweetness left behind. It took all I had to not lick the plate.
    The delicious finish had me purring right up until Bran’s father spoke with a low, powerful tone that reminded me he wasn’t just a nice old man.
    “I’m going outside for a smoke. Rebecca, would you like to join me?” He extended his hand.
    “I don’t smoke,” I replied.
    Bran cleared his throat to my left, just out of sight.
    Michael ignored his son’s discomfort and reached out, his hand hanging in the air over the remains of the mousse. “Humor an old man. Let’s go have a chat—let Bran have a few minutes alone with his mother.”
    I let him lead me away from the table. This had less to do with giving Bran some private time and more about getting me away from Bran.
    If Michael Hanover figured he’d be able to scare me out of a relationship with his son he was about to be very surprised. I’d been threatened with much worse for lesser crimes.
    The scars on my back itched.
    We stepped past the doorman and back outside onto King Street. The line of people waiting for a table hadn’t gotten any shorter and more than a few eyes followed our stroll with a mixture of envy and curiosity.
    Hanover led me to the doorway of a nearby building, putting one foot up on the stone steps as he surveyed the traffic around us.
    King Street was one of the happening places in Toronto, expensive restaurants rubbing shoulders with high-priced stage productions and a slew of bars offering fancy drinks at high prices for the elite.
    The theater crowd was getting out from the evening performance and people swarmed toward the pubs and the cafes to discuss the latest stage offering. A set of rickshaw drivers waited for business, the backs of their chariots advertising the next big musical.
    “You’re a private investigator, according to your file.” The elder Hanover withdrew a silver cigarette case from the inside of his jacket. He flipped it open and chose a single death stick.
    He didn’t offer me one.
    “Your men do good work. Of course they could have looked in the phone book.” A stiff breeze smacked my bare arms, raising goose