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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2021 by Sandra Kitt

  Cover and internal design © 2021 by Sourcebooks

  Cover design by Elsie Lyons

  Cover images © Ridofranz/Getty Images, tolgaildun/Getty Images, Praew stock/Shutterstock

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.

  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—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  sourcebooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Kitt, Sandra, author.

  Title: Winner takes all / Sandra Kitt.

  Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Casablanca, [2021] |

  Series: The millionaires club; book 1

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020047355 (print) | LCCN 2020047356 (ebook) |

  (trade paperback) | (epub)

  Classification: LCC PS3561.I86 W56 2021 (print) | LCC PS3561.I86 (ebook)

  | DDC 813/.54--dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020047355

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020047356

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  When some things go wrong, take a moment to be thankful

  for the many things that are going right.

  “In ordinary life, we hardly realize that we receive a great deal more than we give, and that it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.”

  —Dietrich Bonhoeffer

  Chapter 1

  For a moment, when the text notification lit up the screen on her cell phone, Jean Travis considered ignoring it. But it was her work phone, and the incoming message meant it was from someone official, i.e., her boss, Bradley Clark.

  Where are you? the message began.

  About to leave, she texted back, heading down the corridor toward security and the exit.

  Meet me at the pressroom. I’m on my way.

  She knew this didn’t bode well for the end of her day and the start of her weekend. Jean’s silent response was to do as she was instructed.

  Brad Clark was already waiting for her when she reached the converted conference room that also doubled as the pressroom. He appeared anxious, and Jean guessed that whatever was going on was important. The door to the pressroom was open, and there was a lot of activity inside.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, her attention drawn to the flurry of movement, equipment, and orders coming from inside the room.

  “Press conference and brief broadcast in about thirty minutes,” Brad said. “The mayor agreed to the broadcast of the current lottery winners. You’re making the announcement and introducing the winners.”

  Jean frowned. “It’s almost six thirty…”

  “I know, I know. Someone dropped the ball, and everyone’s gone for the day. You have to step in and do it. Local reporters and their crews are already here. The winners are in the greenroom. We already know who they are, but this is a big deal because of the Mega Million winning ticket. It’s huge…” he said.

  “Not funny,” Jean murmured, accepting several pages from him.

  “It’s easy, should take less than an hour. I wrote up some guidelines. Here’s a list of the current winners…” He gave Jean another page. “Make sure you emphasize that the mayor’s office wanted to share the news with people in the city, letting them know that their neighbors really do become winners. They can, too, blah, blah, blah.”

  Jean grinned at Brad. “Have you ever bought a lottery ticket?”

  “I don’t gamble,” he chortled. “My wife would kill me for throwing away money like that. Odds are too high. But…you can’t win if you don’t play. Wonder what ESPN’s gonna do now?”

  She was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “One of our winners is a TV personality…almost famous…” While he spoke Brad’s cell buzzed a notification. “I gotta take this.”

  “How much time before we broadcast?”

  Brad looked at his watch. “Down to twenty-five minutes.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “On my way home.” He smirked, walking away and reading his text. “Do whatever they need you to. Stay until it’s over. Call me if there are problems, and only if there are problems.”

  “Overtime, right?”

  “Night. Have a good weekend…”

  Jean watched him hurry away. She entered the pressroom to find that the reporters and film crews were pretty much set up. She then made sure the podium had a functioning mike.

  She dug out a pocket mirror, checked her lip gloss, and absently fluffed her hair, then began to introduce herself to the reporters waiting to meet the lottery winners and tape the announcements.

  The local networks no longer did a weekly five-minute drawing of lottery numbers. Everything was digital now, which cost less money and production time. For these occasional announcements, the winners were already known to the lottery commission. Only the public would be surprised when the names were called. Jean knew that all she had to do was interject excitement into the proceedings. She only had a minute to scan quickly through Brad’s notes, to figure out an agenda for the announcement, to fashion an introduction—something cute and humorous—so that no one would suspect this was her first time.

  Jean signaled to the security guard standing just outside the door. “We’re almost ready. Please bring in the guests. Tell them to take seats in the front two rows quietly.” She checked her smartphone clock. “Five minutes, okay?” she said to the waiting press crew.

  She glanced around to find about thirty or forty people gathered in the back of the room to witness the announcement. They were fillers
, like movie extras, there to lend authenticity to the moment. No doubt many were family members and friends, but mostly they were general public who enjoyed saying I was there when, Jean guessed. She got a signal from the reporters that they were all set. Jean took up a position at the front of the space, and camera lights suddenly flashed on. Just then, a side door opened and a number of people trooped in, momentarily creating a disruption. The bright lights for the cameras prevented Jean from seeing a thing beyond the podium. Then it went quiet.

  “We’re live,” someone signaled.

  Jean smiled into the cameras and began to talk.

  “Hello! I’m Jean Travis, assistant director of Public Affairs at the mayor’s office. I’d like to…to…” She fumbled and hesitated when she was distracted by another person making what could only be described as a perfectly timed grand entrance into the room.

  Jean could detect a tall figure, a man, but couldn’t see much else. He managed to create a stir and a brief buzz of whispering, taking his seat. Jean tried to cover her lapse.

  “So much excitement,” she said with a bright smile. “Thank you for being here tonight as we recognize the latest winners in our state lottery. And, of course, everyone wants to know—and see—who will walk away with the Mega Million prize that has grown over the past two drawings when there was no winning ticket.”

  Jean then had a chance to catch her breath while she read an official statement from the State Lottery Commission about the rules governing the program. Her attention was briefly caught again by the latecomer, who, incredibly, appeared to be giving her a covert hand wave. She ignored it and continued.

  “So let’s get to it! Like all of you, I’m excited to meet the lucky ones who will walk away with checks from the State Lottery, with numbers ending in a lot of zeros.”

  A cheer went up through the room. One camera turned to capture the seated group demonstrating their enthusiasm.

  Jean smiled, and then she suddenly gasped.

  The list!

  She had not yet even looked at the winning names on the list Brad had given her. As smoothly as possible, she pulled the list from the other announcements. She briefly glanced at the names. The last name grabbed her attention. She recognized it. But from where?

  “And now, our winners!”

  Jean called the first name, including where he was from and the amount of the winnings. Shouts and applause erupted from the audience as an elderly man and woman came forward, broad smiles and clasped hand-pumps denoting their victory. Jean kissed the cheeks of the woman and man to interject a little human connection. A giant cardboard sign was passed to her, a replica of a check with the amount the couple had won. Jean asked them a few questions about how they planned to use their winnings. The gushing, excited reactions from the couple evoked laughter and shout-outs around the room. Then they retook their seats to another round of applause.

  And so it went, down the list of names for the next forty-five minutes. By the time she called the fourth winner, Jean had her comments to a science, and everything went smoothly. But there was a heightened energy and anticipation, as everyone clearly wanted to know who had won the Mega Millions. Who was going to be set for life? She looked at the name again, and recognition finally sunk in. Jean knew this name. An unexpected catch lodged in her chest. She had to quickly swallow to get her next breath.

  “Will Trick… Will, er… Patrick Bennett, please come to the front to accept your check.”

  She joined in the clapping for the winner, as she’d done for all the others. But this time she was more interested in who came forward. Out of the bright lights, a tall figure emerged. He was casually but smartly dressed in dark charcoal cargo pants, a black Henley, and a collarless, short black leather jacket. Great presence, Jean thought, keeping her attention on his approach, her smile fixed as her gaze widened with recognition. Jean reached out with her hand to touch his arm so that he’d face the camera in the right position. But he stunned her by taking hold of her hand and giving it a subtle squeeze…and not letting go. And he knew exactly how to position himself in front of a studio camera.

  Jean made a discreet attempt to pull free, but Patrick Bennett wasn’t having it. She gave in and tried to relax. Catching her off guard even more, he brought their clasped hands to his mouth and planted a light kiss to the back of hers. The audience loved it, cheering and whistling. Jean played it through and gave a faux blushing gaze into the cameras.

  “Many congratulations to…to Patrick Bennett,” she said with the right amount of enthusiasm and professionalism. “Mr. Bennett is the grand winner today of—are you ready?—seventy-five million dollars!”

  There were whoops and gasps, and one audacious request from a female in the back of the room.

  “I love you! Will you marry me? We’re already here at city hall!” The room erupted into wild laughter.

  “Do it, do it, do it…” went up the boisterous chorus.

  Patrick Bennett, still holding Jean’s hand, raised both in a kind of victory wave. He grinned broadly but didn’t respond to the proposal. His free hand swept through his hair in a gesture that had Jean momentarily transfixed. Then she was able to extract her hand when she was handed the last cardboard check. Cameras flashed, dozens of cell phones were poised in the air, the glow of their blue-lit screens scattered throughout the audience.

  Jean started the applause again, gazing openly at Patrick Bennett. It was an unavoidable sign of recognition between them. And then Patrick winked at her and murmured so that only she could hear, “Surprised?”

  The quiet drawl of his voice made her stomach tense. That word, his tone, seemed much too intimate for the setting. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. She just kept clapping and smiling.

  Jean was so glad when it was finally over. She made a few concluding remarks, thanking everyone for coming and congratulating the winners again. As people got up and began moving around, many, if not most, headed to surround Patrick. She was curious about the familiarity with which people approached and spoke to him, as if they knew him. She covertly watched Trick. Patrick. Jean had known him by the former moniker from the past. Trick. Jean gathered her things, absently chatting with some of the camera crew and making arrangements with the maintenance and security staff to have the room put back to rights.

  She could just hear Patrick’s deep voice off to the side, the easy way he chatted with everyone, even posing for selfies, which completely mystified Jean. He didn’t know any of these people. What came across was a confidence and vibrancy to him, so unlike the other winners…just regular everyday folk who’d had a stroke of extraordinary luck. Perhaps this was one of the biggest, if not the biggest, moment of their lives. Patrick answered questions and accepted the good wishes of those around him with humility and a surprising grace, Jean considered. She kept stealing little glances at him, once catching Patrick doing the same to her. Her curiosity betrayed her once more.

  Reporters continued to ask How do you feel winning so much money? questions, looking for cute, amusing, moving quotes for their profile pieces. She thought there might be an opportunity to use some footage for promo or marketing later on from her office.

  The room finally began to empty out. She took a deep breath and approached the last few people, including Patrick. There was no way to leave without acknowledging him. Without remembering. Was he doing the same?

  * * *

  Patrick—formerly known as Trick—Bennett killed time letting perfect strangers take photos with him. But he was really waiting for Jean to be finished. He saw her in his peripheral vision, not wanting to be too obvious and stare. But it was her!

  She’d cut her hair.

  She used to have an incredible mass of thick, wavy hair. It was a light brown with lighter, almost blond tendrils at her hairline. Her hair had been a great accompaniment to her tawny skin, a creamy beige that could have identified Jean as almost an
ything nonwhite. Her eyes were exotic, a bit amber in color, and could hold a person’s gaze with catlike intensity.

  Back in high school, he’d only ever seen her in pants. This was the first time he’d seen her legs! Lean and shapely below the hem of a functional black skirt that hit slightly above her knees. She was all professional, classy, and grown up. In school, Jean looked very young, very small. She was still small, but the development since he’d last seen her was decidedly fully adult. She’d become a very pretty woman.

  He spoke first as they stood momentarily alone near the door.

  “I sure didn’t expect to see you here,” he said with a grin.

  “Ditto,” Jean responded with a nervous chuckle. “I think my surprise is greater than yours. Congratulations on your big win.”

  He shifted his gaze, shrugged. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  She seemed surprised by his response, the lack of excitement. He didn’t think an explanation was necessary.

  Patrick quickly recovered, studying her. “So, you work here?”

  She nodded. “Public Affairs. I’m the assistant director.”

  He studied her, his grin growing wider. “I always knew you’d go on to great things.”

  “It’s local government. Not really great things,” Jean said, demurring.

  He didn’t answer directly, instead considering Jean as if to re-familiarize himself. He was trying to see, to hear what else may have changed about her.

  “How long has it been?” he asked in quiet disbelief.

  “Since high school. You graduated and moved on.”

  “Do you live in the city?”

  “In Brooklyn.”

  Patrick thoughtfully assessed her answers.

  Jean fidgeted, as if she was uncomfortable. Maybe she was trying to pull herself together. Did she feel odd? A little off? Like they’d fallen into the rabbit hole? He suddenly felt like the past was reclaiming them. Time was shrinking, and the strangeness of seeing each other again was fading. But neither of them could think of much more to say. The circumstances really didn’t lend themselves to chatting and getting reacquainted. And she was on the job. Jean didn’t suggest that they exchange information. Should he?