"Stone," Jane said, "this is—"
"I know," he said.
Even though they had been practically married, he had never
told her that he was the unacknowledged son of Winston Bartlett. He had never told anyone. To him, his father had died before he was born and that was the story he stuck to.
He naturally had a lot of complex feelings about that. He had seen his mother struggling to give them a decent life, hoofing in the chorus line of Broadway shows long after she should have, and a lot of his anger remained. Now, though, Stone Aimes wanted nothing from the old man. Except the truth.
"Miss Tully," Bartlett barked, glowering at her, "I think you’d better leave us alone."
"Of course," Jane said with a wry look, and in a tactful instant she had slipped past them and out, gently closing the office door behind her.
"I don't believe it," Bartlett said turning back after he watched her leave. "You're trying to blackmail me, you little prick. Which tells me you're not half as smart as I thought you were."
Wait a minute! Did that mean Winston Bartlett has been following my career? Stone felt a thrill in spite of himself.
"I never knew you thought about me, one way or the other."