What was he doing? He couldn’t just leave the party. The old man would come unhinged.

Good.

Maybe Witt Danvers might even worry a little.

Before he changed his mind, Zach steadied himself against the rail and hurried down the wide staircase.

“Hey, Zach. Where’re ya goin’?” Nelson, his younger brother, demanded. At fourteen, Nelson, now hanging halfway over the rail, his shaggy blond hair flopping over his eyes, idolized his hellion of an older brother.

“Not now,” Zach growled. He didn’t need the kid’s adoration any more than he needed Witt’s disapproval.

“But-”

“Just keep quiet, Nelson. Okay?” Refusing to acknowledge Nelson as the kid ran down the stairs, Zach strode through the front lobby where club chairs, brass lamps, and glossy dark tables were positioned around a massive fireplace. Past the main desk and a forest of potted palms, he walked quickly, trying not to think about the ramifications of his actions when Witt discovered him missing.

Outside, the night was humid. The smell of the river drifted on air so still it seemed to cling to Zach’s skin. He yanked off his jacket and began walking fast, heading north, trying to cool his blood and clear his head.

What he was contemplating was crazy, and yet, he’d consumed enough alcohol to feel bolder than usual. So what if the old man found out? What could he do? Kick Zach out of the Danvers family mansion, force him to live with his mother? That thought was a bitter pill to swallow.

Deep down, a part of him still cared for the woman who had borne him, but she didn’t deserve that love, not after she’d abandoned them all and left them in the lonely house on the hill with Witt.