Thirteen
The deep navy sky made up her third-favorite part of the ambience on the rooftop lounge. Closing in on second was the modern, square fire table surrounded by chairs. First place belonged to the man who’d walked her out here.
Royce’s deep gray jacket was paired with dark trousers, and she caught a peek of suspenders over a crisp, white shirt when he’d turned to lead her outside. The bow tie was her favorite, though. Navy with a silver sheen, yet somehow casual enough to work with the rest of his outfit.
He undid a button on his jacket and pulled out a chair for her. She sat, curling her wine against her chest. Fire or not, the wind hit her and she bristled. A detail he noticed. A moment later her shoulders were covered by his suit jacket. He sat in the chair next to hers and she admired him unabashedly.
Suspenders. White shirt. Bow tie.
Purr.
She was so into him. After the awkward way they’d parted last night she hadn’t expected him to be so open.
Jack Knox’s laugh drew her attention. Inside, he tossed his white head back, his smile gleaming.
“He doesn’t act sixty-something. But you do.” She tilted her head at Royce. “Odd.”
“Very funny.” He canted an eyebrow.
“I didn’t tell Gia or Bran, by the way. About us or the other thing.” She widened her eyes meaningfully.
“I figured. I rode here with her tonight. If Gia knew, she’d have brought it up. She’s not one to keep her feelings to herself.”
“I didn’t realize you two came together.”
He seemed to debate sharing more before saying, “Since her and Jayson’s divorce, she leans on me as a travel companion. Don’t tell her I told you that. She’ll castrate me.”
Taylor nodded. Her friend was independent, capable. Gia wouldn’t want anyone to know she relied on her big brother for transportation.
“She did ask if there were any further developments where we were concerned.” Royce sipped his drink, letting Taylor sweat that out for a few seconds before he shook his head. “I said no.”
She didn’t enjoy keeping secrets from her best friend, but until Taylor had a handle on what was going on with Royce, she wasn’t going to tell Gia anything.
As if on cue, Gia’s voice rose behind them. “So this is where the party’s at!” She plopped down next to Royce and slapped his knee. “What up, bro?”
“We didn’t want to interfere with the ass-kissing. How’d it go?” He swiped her nose with one finger and she glared.
“Don’t give me that brownnose spiel. You’re the one vying for CEO.”
Royce’s expression darkened as he exchanged glances with Taylor.
“They should put you in a ring and make you and Bran fight to the death. Like gladiators,” Gia added gleefully. “Tay and I would enjoy that.”
“There’ll be no fighting to the death. Sorry to disappoint you. I will accept Dad’s decision.”
Gia grew silent, her gaze fastened to her oldest brother.
“What?” Royce’s face was a neutral mask, but Gia reacted as if the truth were written on his forehead.
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
“I—How—”
Brannon’s telltale good-natured laugh drifted over their heads next. He walked out, Cooper at his side, and joined their group. Gia kept an eye on Royce, but didn’t say more.
An hour later, most of the sixty-eight guests—Addison counted—had left the party for a variety of reasons. The dozen or so of them remaining converged on the rooftop. Additional heaters on stands had been lit to thwart the cold, the flames reflecting off the six-foot-high glass overlooking the city. Above that barrier, a crescent moon stamped the center of a star-pocked sky.
Taylor was still wearing Royce’s jacket, which was warm and smelled like him: incredible. No one had mentioned it, but Gia had given her a lengthy look that said we’ll talk later.