The Price of Infamy

The Price of Infamy EMBER LEIGH Copyright The Price of Passion © 2023 by Ember Leigh All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. Published by Ember Leigh, 2023 [email protected] Cover Model: Gil Photographer: Wander Aguiar Cover art: Covers by Combs Editing: Elisabeth R. Nelson Contents CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR EPILOGUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS LET'S STAY CONNECTED! ALSO BY EMBER LEIGH CHAPTER ONE TRACE “Oh my lord—she’s taking her diaper off again.” My mother’s exclamation—the third time in the past hour—sent me racing back into the living room. The luxury apartment I’d moved into four days ago stretched out in front of me, still a sight I hadn’t quite gotten used to. Hell, I hadn’t gotten used to any part of this whole situation. Not only was I in Kentucky indefinitely, I had a year lease on an apartment in Louisville. And the little girl I was suddenly responsible for? Yeah, I really hadn’t gotten used to that one either. “Did she pee or anything?” I asked as I darted over to help my mom. She swatted me away as I tried to bring a new diaper her way. I’d gone from playboy bachelor to custodial guardian in the blink of an eye. Four days ago, I didn’t know how to change a diaper. Now I knew about nighttime protection and why the good diapers mattered. “She’s just uncomfortable, I guess.” Willow’s little stink face as she looked up at me and my mom from the play pad in the living room made me snort with laughter. She grinned devilishly and then lifted her little dress and tore at the diaper again. “Okay, see, you need to leave that on,” I told Willow. She shrieked something unintelligible and stomped away, toward a corner of toys my mother and I had quickly assembled in the day before Willow’s arrival. Everything had been a disorienting whirlwind since taking sole custody of Willow—the niece I never knew I had, until my surprise half-brother went to jail and left her in my care. Personally, I didn’t think that a single businessman in Manhattan was the top choice for taking custody of a two-year-old. But if I was the best option, I sure as hell didn’t want to know who my competition was. “I think she’s doing better,” my mom said, watching as Willow tucked herself behind the Fisher Price food truck and crossed her arms, staring out at us through the serving window. “Yeah,” I said, not at all agreeing. These first few days had been rough. But then again, my entire existence had been rough for approximately the last seven months, so something like this just seemed normal now. One more exciting addition to the shit pile that my life had become. “Willow, do you want some lunch?” my mom asked in that sweet grandma voice. I loved that she was here, offering to help in these vulnerable early days. She probably knew I had zero idea what to do with a two-year-old. More than that, she knew that her sons were in a special sort of…helpless disintegration. There were endless ways to describe the ramifications of having an active investigation launched by the Securities and Exchange Commission tearing apart the business I helped build from the ground up. And believe me, I’d been using every synonym available over the past seven months, trying not to let the despair and the anxiety burrow to my bone marrow. But I had to keep my chin up and my shoulders back, all that positive bullshit people said when they weren’t facing the possibility of a ten-year prison sentence and the complete destruction of their business venture and livelihood. “What about a…bologna sandwich?” I offered, heading to the kitchen. I’d rented this place furnished, so all the kitchen essentials were ready and waiting for me upon move-in. All I had to do was supply the food and copious amounts of alcohol needed to survive my new reality. I stared into the fridge. What the fuck did two-year-olds eat? This was only the fifth entry on my list of questions that could unfurl to create a miles-long scroll. A week ago, I had been ordering oysters on the half-shell for a pretty girl I wanted to impress at a swanky bar. Now I had a fridge stocked full of basic lunch meats that I personally hadn’t eaten since I was a child myself. My, how things could change. Willow didn’t answer. She didn’t even react. She just kept her arms crossed over her chest and frowned at my mom. “I’ll make her a sandwich anyway, just in case,” I announced, pulling out the ingredients. I couldn’t help feeling like this whole arrangement could have been made even slightly easier if Ian, my half-brother, could have provided me with any details or tips