Now, it’s my lips that quirk, and I can’t remember the last time I shared a moment of amusement with my father. “Would you like some burnt pancakes, Father?” I ask, unable to judge him anymore for his woman on the side, considering my mother has Mike on the side, and I have no idea who came first. “Obviously you’ve been in the building working up an appetite.”
“I ate,” he assures me. “Just reminding you about dinner tonight.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Bring Emily. That’s not a request. It’s mandatory.” He turns and starts walking away.
I inhale and shut the door, returning to find Emily throwing out the pancakes. “I’m starting a new batch,” she says, then asks, “Was that your father?”
I rest my hands on the island and she turns to look at me. “He wants you at dinner tonight.”
She studies me a moment and then leans on the counter. “Do you want me to go? Because Shane, there’s no pressure from me.”
“I always want you by my side, Emily. Tonight is no exception, but of course, my father is playing a game.”
“I can handle your father’s games. You know that and I want to be by your side, Shane, but my concern is Derek. You said we were keeping a low profile with Derek.”
“I also thought I was ending this Martina problem last night. That didn’t happen. You’re in my life. Derek is going to figure that out.”
“Actually, your mother referenced the way we look at each other and made it pretty clear she thought we were more than a fling.”
I round the counter and snag her hips, pulling her to me. “It’s time we make it clear we’re a couple.”
Her hand flattens on my chest. “What about Derek?”
“We’ve filled in the holes in your past, which was what I wanted handled before he had a reason to look any closer at you.”
“He is looking closer at me as of yesterday,” she says. “I saw that in his eyes. I’m a target.”
My mind goes to the recording I’d made outside Teresa’s house last night; I should have already played it back. If it’s as perfect as I think it is, I own my brother. “He can’t touch you,” I say, cupping her backside. “Just me, sweetheart, which is how I plan to keep it.”
“I like how you touch me,” she says, and despite her daring, her cheeks flush, a contradiction of qualities I find sexy as hell.
“Screw the pancakes,” I say, setting her on a barstool, and going down on one leg in front of her, my hands settling on her bare thighs. “It’s you I want.”
She smiles, and sighs follow, but pancakes do not. We order room service. I think Emily and I will be ordering a lot of room service, and that suits me just fine.
* * *
Despite the early six o’clock hour, it’s already dark outside when we arrive at my parents’ house. I park the Bentley at the rear of the house, next to Derek’s Porsche.
“I’m suddenly nervous,” Emily says, as I open her door and help her to her feet, the dim glow of outdoor lighting surrounding us, a light breeze lifting her long, dark hair.
“Don’t be,” I say, draping a black cashmere wrap over her navy blouse, which I’ve matched with my tie, skipping a jacket. “You know my family and you were right. You do handle their games well.”
“I hate that the word ‘family’ means games to you.”
I gather her hand in mine and kiss her fingers. “Family means you to me now, Emily.”
Her expression softens. “That is the best thing you’ve ever said to me. You’re that to me too. You really are and it’s kind of scary.”
“Then we’ll be scared together.”
“You? Scared? Never, Shane Brandon.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” I admit. “Alone is safe. There is no fear of losing anything. You can’t get hurt.”
“Then you’ve never truly felt alone, because alone is a cold, empty place.”
I cup her face. “You will never feel that again. And before you ask, I promise.” I lean in and kiss her, my tongue doing one slow, caress against hers, followed by her shiver. “Let’s get you inside.” I drape my arm over her shoulder, and we enter the open foyer with towering ceilings I always take for granted, but Emily is amazed, walking to the center of the tiled room, and staring up at the domed ceiling.
“I love this so much,” she declares as my mother enters from the kitchen, and laughs.
“I still do and say that sometimes,” she declares, looking lovely as ever in black pants and a matching blouse, and while I’d love to just be proud of my mother, I can’t. The son in me is thinking of her nabbing Mike, a younger, powerful man, and how that might be related to positioning herself for the future.
“Come to the library,” my mother says. “Our chef says he needs another thirty minutes to serve and your father has a predinner announcement that even I’ve been kept in the dark about. Frankly, I’m eager to find out what it is.”
Emily and I share a curious look, and I close the space between us, taking her wrap and hanging it by the door before lacing the fingers of one of her hands with mine. Together, we walk ahead of my mother and under the winding stairwell to the right, passing through the towering arched wooden door. Once over the threshold, we find my brother and father standing at the fireplace against the far wall, in deep conversation.