She held his gaze. “That’s sad.”

“No, it keeps me from making mistakes. My work turns out best when I act as though everyone is out to lie to me.”

“So why copy a memory card that I handed you?”

Chris tiptoed around the question. “It was for future issues. What if a key photo was suddenly missing?”

“Can we look at it again? I want to see the medallion pictures.”

“When we get you checked into a hotel. Call your uncle and ask him to reserve you a room under his name.”

She reluctantly agreed.

The Benson Hotel in downtown Portland was over a hundred years old, with one of the finest reputations in the city. Every president since Woodrow Wilson had stayed there, the bellman told Chris proudly. Chris wondered if the presidents had been disappointed.

He’d expected more.

The woodwork in the lobby had been impressive and the ceilings were stunning. But it felt and smelled old. Violet wrinkled her nose but didn’t comment. Apparently he had the taste of a teenager.

It’s one hundred years old. What did I expect?

Where was the presidential glamour? The Benson had a stellar reputation for service and quality. No doubt those factors made it worth the price. He’d heard about the Benson for years, and his father had recommended it to visiting senators all his life, but this was Chris’s first step into the legend.

Maybe he simply preferred open spaces and modern looks.

There was a touch of a closed-in feeling that had made him feel itchy as they’d left the lobby. It’d intensified in the elevator.

I need space. Huge windows and long sight lines.

He had his first look at the presidential suite when Saul Messina opened the door and hugged Gianna like she’d been missing for months. In Saul’s big suite he found old-fashioned living room and dining room furniture. Violet got the next hug from Saul, while Chris received a guarded and curious look over her shoulder. He returned the look as he shook Saul’s hand and introductions were made. He felt a web of protection flow out of the older man and over Gianna and Violet, and he approved.

A man about Chris’s own age appeared from another room.

This must be Owen Thomas.

“Gianna. Thank God you’re okay.” The man enveloped her in a hug, which she returned.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris noticed Violet take a step backward, her expression carefully blank. The dark-haired girl had been quiet since they picked her up from Michael’s home. She’d been reluctant to leave, which Chris had attributed to Jamie’s connection with the girl, but the entire ride to the hotel, she’d primarily asked about his brother. He understood. Michael was fascinating to many people, a bundle of energy who constantly moved and talked. After the fifth question about his brother, he’d raised a brow at Gianna, who bit back a smile. A small pang of envy touched his chest, surprising him.

I’m jealous of a kid’s interest in my brother?

Impossible. He’d given up being jealous of Michael decades ago.

Or have I?

Michael had lived the life he’d been destined for while Chris had hid behind the name of a dead friend. Michael was outgoing and unscarred, and had the love of a beautiful woman. Chris waited for the jealousy to flow through him. It didn’t.

He wouldn’t trade anything in his past because that would mean he’d never have had his son.

It put a cork in all jealousy arguments.

He turned to look Violet directly in the eye as she tried not to scowl at Owen, and she gave him an embarrassed half smile. Chris suddenly realized that what he felt wasn’t envy toward his brother, it was simply a desire to get to know Gianna’s daughter better.

Owen held out his hand to Chris and did the usual gaze at and bounce away from his scars that always happened during introductions. “Thanks for looking out for Gianna. We were worried.”

Chris simply smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Owen glanced at Violet. “Hey, kid. Good to see you.” He turned and asked Saul about ordering dinner before Violet had a chance to reply. She met Chris’s gaze and rolled her eyes.

Saul handed Gianna two key cards. “I got you a smaller suite on the next floor down.” He frowned. “I tried to get something closer to me, but this is the best they could do on short notice. Are you sure you don’t want to stay here with me?”

“I’m sure,” she said. “And no one was told my name, correct?”

“That’s correct. Can you stay and eat with us?” Saul asked.

The man pleaded with his gaze, but Gianna still declined. “We’re beat. We might order some room service, but I plan to turn in as soon as possible. Brunch tomorrow?”

“That will do.”

Pleasantries were exchanged, and Chris was relieved to be out of the suite.

“Who is Owen Thomas to you?” he asked as they took the elevator down a floor.

“He’s a golfing buddy of my uncle’s. We dated for a while. It’s been over for months.” She gave him a pointed look.

“Thank God,” muttered Violet.

“Violet!”

“He’s a creep.”

Gianna was speechless. Chris looked from her open jaw to her daughter’s matter-of-fact expression. “I take it you didn’t know Violet’s opinion?” he asked.

“No.” Gianna stepped out of the elevator. “What was wrong with him?” she asked her daughter.

“He’s rude. Condescending. He just wanted the prestige of dating you.”