Page 18

I could feel my face heat, a burning sensation spreading from the center of my chest to my extremities, and I grit my teeth, wanting to hurl something at someone, anything to dispel the perturbing sensations coursing through me.

My stomach churns and protests, and I feel as if my dinner will make a reappearance at any second.

Turning to face the windows, I drag in a deep breath, trying to calm myself and chase away this insanity plaguing me.

“Hey, man. Are you okay? We make fun of you and all, but we’re just worried about you. You don’t look so good these days. Is it TransAmerica?” Charles furrows his brows.

I let out a sigh. “That’s part of it. Things are going to shit soon, I can tell. Voss is circling like a fucking vulture. We’re on standby, ready to go to battle if they drop the first bomb. I don’t know what Father would do if something happened to the company.”

“I thought you weren’t going to get involved.”

Shaking my head, I sit back down and stare at the drink on the table in front of me. “I guess I’m not coldhearted enough for that. If he loses TransAmerica…if I don’t save it for him, he’d be heartbroken.” Or at least, whatever’s left of his heart.

“You know, you don’t need to prove yourself to him.” Ryland’s piercing gaze settles on me.

I attempt to swallow the lump stuck in my throat, but it doesn’t dislodge.

Ryland sighs. “Anything we can do to help? You honestly look like you haven’t been sleeping. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve scrubbed the face of your watch at least five times since you got here.”

Looking down, I find my fingers hovering over the glass face, and I wrench them away. I force my lips into a half smile. “Don’t worry. I have it all handled for now. If things get worse, I’ll let you guys know.”

Knock. Knock.

The crisp knocks on the door interrupt my chaotic thoughts and seconds later, three more Andersons waltz into the room.

Rolling my eyes heavenward, I groan, burying my face in my hands.

Leave it to me to pick the day I have an irrational meltdown, or whatever we want to call this, to be the day I finally meet up with friends, all powerful players on both coasts who can see right through any bullshit I spiel .

“What’s with the face, Steven? What did I miss?

” Rex, the party animal of the five Anderson siblings—four brothers and one sister—the classic troublemaker middle child, prances in, unbuttoning his suit jacket with one hand.

His eyes, the same color as his elder brother, are already sparkling with interest at the idea of gossip.

He ruffles his already disheveled brown hair and smirks.

The man sniffs out gossip like a shark detects blood in the waters.

“Steven here, the Mr. Workaholic who doesn’t sleep or have time for us, decided to make a detour at a karaoke lounge and sing a sappy, romantic song in front of an audience, after a strange interaction with a mysterious woman from his office,” Charles unhelpfully supplies.

“ Oh. Tell me more.” Rex happily plops down on one of the open armchairs across from me and leans forward, his elbows on his thighs, the face of rapt interest. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had secretly turned on his phone and were recording this for leverage later on.

“It was a bet. How many times do I have to tell you guys this? Are you all a bunch of pussies with your panties in a twist?” My teeth gnash against each other and my jaw aches.

Maxwell, the eldest and broodiest of the Anderson brothers, Ryland’s fraternal twin, a recluse who’s usually holed up inside the family mansion, his office, or The Orchid, and is rarely seen in public, quirks a brow, his face devoid of other tells or emotions.

He saunters toward the wet bar with a quiet confidence befitting his role as the current CEO of Fleur Entertainment and pours himself a drink.

“Ignore him, Steven. Don’t engage. You’ll only encourage him. ”

“Well, Your Majesty, not everyone here has the weight of the world on their shoulders to contend with,” Rex throws back, a smirk on his face. “Some of us commoners need gossip in order to get through our day.”

“Like you can be considered a commoner,” Ethan, number four in the Anderson sibling pecking order, mutters. “You’re our Chief Marketing Officer, for fuck’s sake, your net worth is more than most people in New York.”

“Obviously it was a hyperbole, Ethan. ”

“But seriously, Steven, are you leaving the bachelorhood? I thought you’d be the last person to get together with a woman…for good.” Ethan leans against the stone wall of the fireplace, looking bemused at this entire spectacle.

“No. They’re blowing it completely out of proportion. This was a bet with a friend. She said I didn’t have a life outside of work and if I did this, I’d prove her wrong. That’s all that was.”

“And this is not a ‘friend’ from our Rose floors?” I think that was Rex again.

“I already ended it with Liesel.”

“Since when are you friends with women, anyway?” Ryland murmurs, his lips tilting up in a smile as if he read every thought in my mind the last few minutes.

I stand back up and toss my hands into the air. “And this is why I don’t meet with you guys more often. I do have friendships with women. Your younger sister, Lana, remember? Where is she, anyway? She’d be on my side.”

“I think I saw her as I was coming in. She mentioned something about using one of the spas on the upper floors with her friends from college and leaving us to our brawls,” Charles pipes up and crosses his arms behind his head. “She’s smart. I should do the same.”

He grins and turns to my two brothers-in-law. “Adrian and Parker, I think we can go to the steakhouse and I’ll wine and dine you guys while the ABCDEs of the Andersons, namely him, Mr. C over there,” he points to Rex, “gets down to business and ferrets all the details from Steven here.”

“What’s with the alphabet?” Parker quirks up an amused brow.

Rex rolls his eyes. “It’s a nickname. Apparently, there are too many of us and our family alphabetized our middle names by age as a joke.

Maxwell, His Majesty, has a boring name, Angus, like the fucking beef, and Lana, our little sister, is Elise.

We are your classic stuffy, boring rich-ass people with five names on our birth certificates.

It comes with the territory when your ancestors are part of the aristocracy in England and our family still holds a dukedom and a marquessate. ”

“So, what’s yours?” Also, Parker, the nosy prick.

Rex winks. “It’s a state secret.”

Adrian and Parker look at each other and dissolve into chuckles.

“Well, back to Steven’s little problem, I’m ready to start a bet if anyone wants in.” Parker takes out his phone and the rest of the room hollers obscene amounts of money at the idea of me being off the market within one year.

Pathetic. Ridiculous. Absolutely insane.

I look above the fray at Adrian, who is barely stifling a grin. “Aren’t you going to talk some sense into them?”

“I would if I think they’re wrong. But in this case, I think they’re onto something. And why have we never seen you with a woman or a girlfriend? Emily worries about you.”

Shaking my head, I mutter, “Not everyone needs a woman to complete their lives. Emotions are messy, complicated. Just look at what happened to you and Emily. It took you eleven years to get together after some crazy heartbreak. You built your adulthood around her. It’s too much power to give to one person. ”

“But it’s worth it, Steven. I’m saying this as your friend and brother-in-law. Emily makes me a better person. She gives my life color. Don’t close yourself off because of fear.”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” I snap, the unease from earlier making a reappearance.

He holds my gaze, his pale blue eyes sharp and penetrating, and I look away, afraid of what he’s going to find when he stares long enough.

“Whoever this is, Steven, if she is someone who could be more, give her a chance. Not everyone has one,” Maxwell murmurs after placing his bid, a shadow crossing his face, but he turns toward the door before I see more.

Suddenly, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and holds it up. “Sorry, incoming call from Tokyo. I’ll be back.” He steps out of the room and Ryland and Rex trade frowns and a cryptic stare before looking at the back of their oldest brother.

“You guys are done ribbing me, right?” I pull my tie loose and let it hang around my neck.

Normally, this is something I’d do only in the comforts of my apartments or before my quarterly bouts in one of the Rose suites, but as annoying as this group of men are, they are the best of friends, all of them from old money and equally accomplished in their careers, and I feel comfortable enough in front of them to let down my guard.

Except for Parker and Adrian, who worked their way up the ladder from more modest means, everyone else understands the complications and pressures of old money families—the machinations, the rules, the way others get close to you with ulterior motives, the enemies lurking in the background waiting for a moment to strike and tear you down from the top of the food chain.

When they say life is lonely at the top, the statement is very much true.

Everyone wants to climb Everest despite the risks and dangers.

Many frequently lose their lives during the treacherous ascent.

But upon getting to the top, many realize the air is too thin, the rough winds are too brutal, the view is marred by clouds and blizzards, and an avalanche may just be around the corner.

It’s often not that glamorous.

“Adrian and Parker are visiting from LA for business, which concerns Fleur as well.” I lean back in my seat now that the chuckles and jokes are behind us, and everyone is settling into place.

“Parker is here to meet with his business partner, Dylan, who you all know, to discuss the remodel you’re planning for The Orchid.

Adrian is handing over half of his investments to Pietra, and we’re thinking of putting some funds into Fleur. But he wanted to discuss in person.”

Ryland leans forward and clasps his hands on his knees. “What information do you need from us? I’m sure between Ethan, our CFO, and I, we can provide you with detailed financials or operational plans, if that’s what you’re seeking. ”

Adrian nods. “That’s a start. I’d like to see your five-year investment plan, growth strategy, and any forecasts you have regarding…”

The conversation flows freely between them, and I release the stale breath trapped inside my lungs.

My thoughts trail to Grace and her bright eyes and teasing smile, my friends’ discussion fading into the background. It’s almost as if my heart, the organ which has only served to sustain life in my almost thirty years, is awakening, the telltale sparks of an engine sputtering to life.

The sudden thumping is disorienting, the thrumming in my veins unsettling, and I can’t help but think about what Adrian and Parker told me earlier about how meeting the right person could change my life.

Then Maxwell’s sullen utterance, the lowest of murmurs about giving someone a chance because not every has one, echoes in my mind.

The thumping intensifies, as if the muscle is warming up, readying itself for a sprint or a long-distance run, and I suddenly find myself bereft, wondering if they’re all correct, if perhaps something precious and valuable is missing in that hole in my chest and if perhaps, there is someone out there who can fill the void.

And maybe one day, I’ll sleep soundly through the harsh winds and thunderstorms again.