Page 22

Right. Her job where she does plenty of bad things. Maybe she leaves the illegal stuff to her brothers, but she’s running a gambling empire, not a children’s hospital.

She might be brilliant, but she’s trouble.

The doorbell rings, and Alexis’s staff brings in platters of food and starts setting them on the table. Alexis herself oversees the operation, her nod brisk and her words clipped.

The food is, of course, fantastic. Emory sighs with happiness over her first bite of pasta, and I shift in my chair. She lets out a small moan at the fresh mozzarella on top.

“Can you not?” I whisper.

“What?”

“You sound like you’re filming a sex tape while you eat.”

She smirks. “You know, Aiden, it really is a relief to stop pretending to like you.”

My own lips threaten to tug up at that.

“I don’t like you either,” I say quietly.

She grins at me and nudges me with her foot under the table. Her foot rubs over my calf, her thigh brushing mine, and I’m right back in the bathroom this morning, gripping myself in the shower, straining to catch faint hints of her body wash.

“Knock it off,” I hiss.

“Knock what off?” she asks innocently.

I can practically feel my siblings’ gazes on us, but I can’t stop. My hand lands on her thigh and squeezes a warning. The breath stutters out of her. Her neck flushes. I want to bite it.

“So how did you two meet?” Sienna asks.

Emory covers a horrified laugh with her hand.

I groan. “God, I am so sick of answering that question.”

“What have you been saying?” Tristan asks.

“Some version of the same thing we said to the mayor at our shotgun wedding—hate and love are two sides of the same coin,” she says with a shrug.

“When I met her, I wanted to screw her,” I add. Not too far from the truth.

Tristan cuts me a look that says he sees through my bullshit, and I give him a bug-eyed stare that dares him to say something.

Emory waves a hand in the air. “Yeah, I say that when I met him, I was instantly obsessed. The usual.”

Sienna leans forward, grinning. “What actually happened the first time you met?”

“Oh god.” Emory snorts a laugh. “It was horrible. I was new at the school. My mom let me go after I begged for years . Dad never wanted me in private school. I didn’t fit in.

I had these pink boots that I loved , and I wore them on the first day.

Aiden and I crossed paths in the lunchroom. Everything about him annoyed me.”

I remember that day. The new girl was in my way, and I almost bowled her over in my haste. She blinked up at me with those pretty blue eyes and my breath caught. Then she insulted me.

“I dumped my soda on his loafers. He insulted me in Latin and told me to lick it off.”

My face heats. “I didn’t.”

She pokes me. “You totally did. You were such a prick about it too.”

“I liked those loafers,” I grumble, and everyone laughs.

“To be fair, Aiden, you were a weird kid,” Tristan says, affection warming his voice.

“I was.” I grimace. “I read my book at lunch. Who does that?”

The look on Emory’s face is soft, like she likes my oddities, before she looks away.

“What a meet-hate,” Sienna says appreciatively.

“Totally.” Emory nods. “Then he told me the boots were ugly. I never wore them again. After that, I can’t believe I ever liked him.”

We freeze at the same time. Mouths drop open. Sienna’s eyes widen like she just learned a delicious secret. I’m sure mine look the same.

“You what?” Sienna whispers.

Emory’s face is pink, and she looks down at her wineglass, as if debating whether to drown herself in it. “Forget that came out,” she says with a wince.

“Oh no.” I grab her glass.

She tries to snatch it back but ends up draped across my chest before she shoves at me.

I hold it out of her reach. “I want to know.”

“Me too,” my siblings say at the same time.

“Aiden,” she hisses, communicating something with her eyes that might be I fucking hate you .

“Emory.” You owe me , my own eyes say. “Come on.” I raise her glass. “You can have this once you tell me.”

“Fine.” She looks at Sienna and Tristan. “But you can never tell anyone.”

They nod solemnly.

“I wanted to ask him out,” she says.

The room erupts. My chest feels warm and tight at the same time.

“You liked me,” I whisper, my lips curving up. “You liked me . Bad girl.”

“Lots of girls had crushes,” she says desperately, looking at my siblings. “I mean, look at him .”

Sienna’s face scrunches up. “Gross.”

“What about me?” I ask.

She slices me a dirty look. “You were hot at eighteen, okay? That’s all.”

I raise a brow for her to continue. I want to bottle this secret and this feeling. Her embarrassment. Her laughter. I feel like I’m going to burst at the seams.

“You know how it is,” she says pleadingly.

“I really don’t.”

She scowls at me before she looks at Sienna. “He’s never seen a rom-com, I take it?”

Sienna’s brows go up. “A rom-com? Him? Definitely not.”

Emory rolls her eyes. “It was the usual. Unpopular girl meets popular guy. I liked books, he did too. I thought it was a thing.” She shuts her eyes. “I got myself all worked up to ask him to prom.”

“No way,” Sienna breathes. “Grandfather would have freaked out. Dad too.”

I wince and give her a look that says not to talk about it.

“I can’t believe you liked him,” Tristan says, his voice awed. “You know he basically never had girlfriends, right? He totally would have—”

I kick my brother under the table, and luckily, Emory doesn’t seem to notice. Her face is so red it’s nearly purple.

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” Tristan says merrily.

“I regret marrying into this family,” she responds, and my siblings laugh.

“Sounds like it’s all your dreams come true,” I say, keeping the smile off my face but not out of my voice.

Her eyes shoot fire. “Eighteen-year-old me totally thought we had a connection. Thirty-year-old me wants to smother you in your sleep.”

“A connection,” Sienna screeches.

“Not anymore,” Emory says quickly. “Don’t worry about that.”

Of course not. Emory wouldn’t want me now, and for the first time, the thought rankles.

Sienna’s phone dings, and she peeks at it and groans.

“What?” Tristan tries to snatch it, and she bats at his hand.

“Nothing.”

“Let me see,” he says, his mouth full of brownie.

“Get away,” she screeches, flicking his forehead. “You’re getting chocolate on my shirt. It’s just a dumb guy.”

Emory makes a commiserating sound, and Sienna turns to her. “You probably know how it is.” She stabs at the phone. “He thinks he’s better than me because I like shoes and clothes.”

Emory winces. “Yeah, heard that one before.”

Sienna takes an angry sip of wine. “I’m going to be a doctor,” she says. “I graduated summa cum laude from college. Does that matter to him? No. All he sees is a rich girl and assumes I’m an airhead.”

Emory’s eyes turn calculating. “So let him assume,” she says.

“What?”

Tristan and I steel ourselves for Sienna’s inevitable blow up, but Emory just smiles.

“I’ve done it before. In card games, it works particularly well. Unconscious bias is weakness. If you have assumptions about someone that aren’t based on facts, you’re already losing.” Her smile widens. “You could destroy him,” she says, her expression pleasant but her words sharp.

Tristan gives me an alarmed look, but Sienna leans forward.

“Let him assume the worst, then use it against him. I fleeced a guy for five hundred thousand like that.” She winks, and Sienna laughs.

“Men.” My sister shakes her head. “They see what they want to see.”

“Totally.” My wife agrees, passing her the wine. “If you need help ruining him, let me know.”

They share a smile before my sister brightens. “Why’d you never ask Aiden out, anyway?”

Emory looks down at her crostata. “Just never got around to it, I guess.” She gives them a brittle smile, but I don’t buy her response.

The girl who told my sister she could help her destroy a man wouldn’t shy away from getting what she wants, even if it was over a decade ago.