Page 111 of Contract of a Billionaire

The half-brother.

“Hello, Autumn,” he greeted me. “And before you ask, no I didn’t speak with Senator Ashford.”

“Well, a girl can hope,” I muttered. “Although I’d strongly suggest you or someone give that man an education on weapons trade agreements and humanitarian activities in the world. He’s fucking clueless.”

“I like her.” My head whipped in the direction of the rough, cold voice. It belonged to Alexei. Hopefully, it was a good thing to be liked by Alexei. Or maybe not. His wife grinned.

“Yeah, me too,” she added. She leaned over and kissed Alessio on the cheek. “Good choice, brother.” I frowned. Did she just call himbrother? She noticed my confused look. “Byron is my brother.”

“Oh.” I tilted my head, studying her. “Does Branka know?”

Aurora’s eyes darted to Alessio and mine followed. He shook his head. “You have to tell her,” I murmured. I turned my head back to Aurora. “So it’s just you and your brother– “

“No, I have another half-sister. Alessio and Byron, of course. And three other brothers.” Wow, that was a big family. “How about you?”

“Umm, just me. And Branka,” I answered. “My parents say that is like having ten kids.”

A soft chuckle traveled through the room. “My father used to say the same thing,” Bianca, Nico’s wife, chimed in. “Sometimes I wonder what he’d say if he saw our twins.” A soft smile curved her lips. I could relate to that smile. It was the very same one I felt every time I talked about Kol.

Everyone’s eyes remained on me, studying me curiously. But to their credit, they didn’t ask any questions. We all sat around a large set table, with only two spots still vacant. They belonged to Branka and Killian who I had yet to meet.

The meal was served and I quite enjoyed it. Alessio sat next to me talking to the men, his hand on my thigh. Isabella and Bianca discussed recipes. From the sound of it, Isabella was bad at cooking.

“She’s better at saving lives than cooking,” Aurora commented. “She’s a doctor.”

“Oh.” I flicked a glance Isabella’s way. She was writing notes with a furrowed brow, muttering it was easier to cut up a human than cut up a chicken. It was almost comical. “I hear your photographs are sought after.”

“Oh, they are,” Grace and Áine chimed in at the same time. “I barely snatched one,” Áine added. “Alessio bought out the whole gallery.”

“What?” I blurted out.

Áine and Grace shared a smile. “Yes, he was the prick,” Grace teased in a hushed tone. “I was so pissed off. I wanted a few of those photographs. But Alessio has to be an obsessive prick. Cassio said he hid them all in his manor.”

A chuckle traveled over our side of the table. “I wonder where he has them,” I muttered. “I haven’t seen them in his penthouse.”

“He’s probably hiding them until he’s certain you won’t run away,” Áine chimed, tilting her chin to the men. “All of them are obsessive and possessive.”

I flicked a glance at the men, then back to the women. “I guess I can see that,” I remarked softly. Although I didn’t mind it. Not with Alessio. I loved his dark side. I loved his possessive side. I loved everything about him.

“I’m going to have to look into those,” Aurora said. “Alexei has a penthouse in D.C. and it’s so bland, basic. I want to make it more homey so when we visit, it doesn’t feel like we’re in a hotel.”

My lips curved up. “Not exactly sure you’ll want my kind of photos.”

“Why not?”

“Most of them are more… ummm– “ I searched for the right words, but failed. “Some are to raise awareness. Others are a bit dark. There are a few photos of some of the amazing places on this planet I’ve been able to visit.”

Aurora’s eyes lit up.

“I’d like to see all of them.”

Grace dug out her phone and started flipping through her photos. “I snapped pictures during the exhibit in New York. She has some on her website, too.”

I didn’t need to look through them. I knew them all. I never forgot a single photograph I took. All the women looked at Grace’s phone and my attention wandered.

My eyes lifted up to the television that showed the news and I stiffened. The chaos in Afghanistan played out across the screen. I spotted a face or two of friends I’d made. I shot up to my feet and found myself in front of the television.

“Can you turn up the volume?” I asked the bartender.