“Oh, thank you,” Winter says. “Brecken helped me choose.”
“I’m sure,” Sofia replies, tucking her blonde hair behind an ear. It’s almost as long and shiny as Winter’s. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
Luca and I exchange a glance, neither of us surprised it’s Sofia who reaches out first as if taking possession of Winter. Brecken’s good at keeping his emotions under wraps—unless he gets into defender mode±but Sofia’s statement speaks volumes. Evidently, Brecken has had a lot of good things to say about her.
“Oh, well, that has me worried,” Winter says wryly, taking in their faces, aware of their keen gaze. “I’ve been learning about you, too.”
“We love our boys,” Sofia replies, glancing at my brothers. “Each of us,” she adds, looking at Rachel, Diana, Jasper, and Connor, “love them as our own. But for you, loving them will be like walking a tightrope.”
Winter glances at Brecken, knowing what that tightrope looks like. And while I think Sofia is mostly referencing the power struggle behind the Balthazar Hotel Group, and our preference for a relationship dynamic that society, in general, has problems with, she’s putting a major downer on what’s meant to be a fun night.
“Thanks, Mom,” Brecken interjects, his voice holding a warning. “Winter knows what she’s getting into.”
Luca and I share a cautionary glance. Whatever is going on here will only get more complicated. Harder. Our relationship is in its infancy. And while Luca and I have shared girls more frequently over the years, Brecken’s still getting used to it. He’s the powder keg waiting to explode. And concern about that is nothing compared to Sienna’s machinations behind our backs, whispering in her dad’s ear.
“I’m sorry,” Sofia apologizes, “but I want this to work out for you all. There’s a lot at stake.”
A fucking hotel empire, that’s what.
Softly, Winter tells her, “I understand. I lost all of my family, so I have a lot of love to give. A lot of time to devote to nurturing this. But I’ll be frank with you, Sofia, with you all. I’m not here as some kind of magic glue. I can’t fix the divide in your family about the hotel’s ownership. That burden cannot rest on my shoulders.”
I slide an arm around Winter’s waist, tugging her into my side. “No one’s asking you to.” Because that would be insane, even though I think she could be that magic glue.
Winter’s pale green eyes slide to Brecken’s mom. Yeah, Sofia thinks Winter’s that glue too. We all do, everyone except Winter. And it’s asking a lot of her, of anyone, but she’s the final piece that’ll turn our lop-sided triangle into a robust square.
“How about we find our seats,” Mum suggests. “Dinner will be soon.”
Hooking her arm through Winter’s, my mother steals my girlfriend away as they walk towards the tables, leaving me with Dad. Following a few steps behind them, I look at him, finding warmth in his chocolate brown eyes, encouragement and love projected my way. “She’s savvy.”
I chuckle, knowing Winter saw through Sofia’s concern too. “Odd that Sofia is so keen for the hotel to stay in the family when Brecken’s undecided,” I lead.
“Maybe he’s changed his mind.”
“He’s not said,” I answer, before downing the dregs of my champagne. It’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask him several times over already. But if I’m not careful, I’ll push him into a corner that’ll have him giving a rash answer. I love the bloke, but he’s either guns blazing or quietly analyzing.
“Love tends to make you see things differently.”
I send my dad a questioning look, taking in his soft profile before he turns to grin mischievously at me. Darker-skinned like mum, I’ve always thought them a handsome couple. “Love?”
“He certainly seems to be looking at her tonight like a man in love.”
“More like a man in torture,” I correct, thinking of the distance he’s maintained so far. Of his blue balls.
Dad chuckles as a waiter offers us a fresh glass of champagne which we accept, placing our empties on a tray. “What about you, son? Or is too early to say?”
I blow out a breath. “Too early to say, but I like everything so far.”
He claps a hand on my back. “Having a stable relationship and running a billion-dollar hotel brand aren’t mutually exclusive you know. You can have your own nuclear family if that’s what you want.”
Not this again.
“Dad, you know my feelings on this. You and Mum aren’t married, and look how happy you are. Why do you think I need a wife to be content?” I ask rhetorically. “I just need a good woman at my side. One who’s passionate about the same things as me. One who doesn’t mind losing me to my work.”
Both my parents are award-winning architects, bringing their creativity to an American firm, and merging the businesses. A strong work ethic has been drilled into me, but obviously I get that from my workaholic biological father too.
“I’ve always wanted to marry her,” he confesses.
“I know,” I say, offering a commiserating smile. “But I have her DNA,” I remind him.