CHAPTER ONE

      THE HOUSE WAS COLD.

      Carli Tynan wasn’t surprised. In fact, she’d never once entered this mansion and ever felt warm. Regardless of the season. And, despite the myriad of Christmas decorations currently adorning the foyer, nothing about the home felt particularly festive. Or even like a home. No, the Hammond estate felt more like a staid museum.

      The eleven-foot-tall pine Christmas tree that nearly touched the ceiling notwithstanding.

      Shaking the thin layer of snow off her wool coat, she peeled off her faux leather gloves, the bound portfolio tucked under her right arm. The darn portfolio was the only reason she was here, the reason her usual morning routine had been so handily disrupted. Carli was not a fan of disruptions. She’d already had to deal with way too many in her twenty-six years.

      Her boss, Jackson Hammond, had asked her just this morning to drop off the file on her way in to work. Right after she’d gotten back from her early-morning run. It had barely given her time to shower, let alone to put herself together as well as she normally liked. As a result, her unruly curls were now a mess of tangles hastily secured in a haphazard bun on top of her head. She hadn’t even had a chance to iron her remaining clean suit. The only other option was a stretch pencil dress that had recently shrunk after she’d accidently thrown it in the dryer. Comfortable, it was not.

      But she had a day full of meetings in the office, and this was the best she could do. Not at all the way she would have preferred to start off her morning. Or any morning for that matter.

      All because the prodigal son was returning home.

      Justin Hammond, Jackson’s second-born, had been the one to request the portfolio. And apparently,