“An intervention? You’ve all lost your minds. You can’tpossibly think that this is the way to get me to leave Loren Brae.”
“What is the way then? Tell us. Because it’s been over a year now and nothing’s changed.”
“Maybe because I don’t want it to change? I have a right to my own life, don’t I?”
My gaze bounced between the two of them, trying to understand the undercurrent of whatever was going on here. There was so much that wasn’t being said, and yet every word seemed to matter. The waiter returned with a tray of drinks and asked for orders. I ordered the aubergine lasagna, having never even opened the menu, and dearly hoped the food would arrive quickly. Everyone at the table waited until the waiter left.
“Ms. Fletcher?—”
“Doctor,” I said again, taking a sip of my wine, enjoying throwing this man off his stride.
“We think it would be best if you remove yourself from Luch’s life.”
I laughed, stunned that we were even having this conversation. Luch was an adult man, successful in his career, and lived a healthy and happy life. What could possibly be behind such a ridiculous display of authoritarianism?
“Richard,” I said, widening my smile as annoyance flashed in his eyes that I didn’t refer to him as a doctor. “I’m not sure what ‘royal family-type’ move you’re attempting to pull here, but I will be very clear. I do not take orders from you. Or anyone, for that matter.”
“Dad—”
“We’re prepared to make you a deal.”
Luch exploded, slamming his fist onto the table, and the entire restaurant went silent. I froze as every man at the table, including Luch, rose.
Every instinct in my body told me to run. It was the same thing I’d felt the first time I’d met Luch, but a hundred times stronger now that we were around his family.
A blur of motion flashed across my eyes, and I gasped as a red wine glass went flying toward Richard.
Brice.
My mouth rounded, and I gasped, but not before Richard pivoted, preternaturally fast, and avoided the spill of wine. He turned, seemed to track Brice, and my pulse kicked up.
Had he seen the broonie?
“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
I turned to see Lia standing there, Munroe at her side looking elegant in a suit, and two waiters behind them.
“Me?” Richard pointed a finger at his chest. “Luch’s the one creating a scene.”
“That’s not true,” I said, before anyone else could speak, refusing to believe that this man had actually fathered Luch. How could he throw his son under the bus like that? “These men interrupted our date and forced us to dine with them. They were not invited, nor welcomed.”
Light that match and burn those bridges, baby!But I couldn’t bring myself to care one bit about this incredibly cold and rude family. They’d just offered to buy me off so I’d stay away from their son and brother. I couldn’t fathom a world in which my mother would ever have considered something of that nature. It was astounding that someonelike Luch had managed to find his way in a world where he was raised around this group of people.
“Understood. If you’d please leave my restaurant,” Lia said, turning to the others, subtly stepping next to me in a show of support.
Richard looked around the restaurant, realizing he had an audience, and turned on his heel and strode out. Luch’s brothers all followed suit, shooting nasty looks at me over their shoulders as they did, and in moments they were gone. Or at least I hoped they were gone. I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet them in a dark car park later.
“Luch. Faelan. My kitchen.” Lia’s tone brooked no disagreement, nor did Munroe’s stern expression behind her.
My eyes met Luch’s.
“I need to go speak to them,” Luch’s voice rasped, and my heart fell. He was choosing his family, because of course he was. They were family. Even if they were cold, robotic, and without any empathy whatsoever.
Without another word, I followed Lia into the kitchen, leaving my heart behind with Luch. In all the ways I had imagined potentially meeting his family, it had never been like this. I’d known they were difficult, but that descriptor seemed like an understatement compared to what I’d just witnessed.
I kept my head high as I sailed past the other patrons and followed Lia into the kitchen, and into controlled chaos. A sous chef worked at the stove, waiters zipped past with plates, and others stood at a long table chopping and prepping. Scents of garlic and basil hung heavy in the air.
“I’m taking fifteen,” Lia called out, untyingher apron.
