Harrison’s blue eyes sparkled like freaking gemstones. He nodded at her, took her arm with Claire on his other hip, and swept them across the room in a blur of showmanship and deliberate purpose. I shook my head.
I had no idea what those two were up to this time, but from the sound of things, Harrison and Aurelia had become something of a power couple. Always chasing another deal and whatnot.
Harrison had married a girl who came from a family exactly like ours, another acquisitions-hungry bloodline with ambition in spades. I wanted to catch up with them sometime and get to know her a little better, but obviously, they’d arrived on some kind of mission that they were dead set on achieving, which meant now wasn’t the time to chat.
While I’d given him shit about the traffic thing, I wasn’t even sure where they lived at the moment. I’d heard they’d moved to New York, but I’d also heard they were in the Mediterranean. Knowing Harrison, constantly being on the move was also entirely possible.
My brothers and I hadn’t been able to attend any of the spate of weddings that had happened last year. In our defense, there hadn’t been much notice for any of them, but still, I was sorrynot to have been around. It sounded like my cousins had had quite a year.
Now, however, Claire was gone. My arms were empty and none of my cousinsortheir wives were in sight.
For a second, I just stood there, surrounded by champagne flutes, chandeliers, and the low hum of a fancy party that was definitely doubling as a business meeting. They always did. Since I wasn’t interested in closing deals or discussing mergers, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself now that there was no baby, no mission of my own, and no one to make me look busy.
In the end, I did what any self-respecting Westwood would do. I straightened my shoulders, smiled like I knew exactly what I was doing, and started wandering.
The first floor was packed, the fireplaces roaring, and the scent of sugar and money thick in the air. Alex caught my eye across the room and lifted his chin in a silent acknowledgment.
That was it. No wave, no smile, nohey, baby sister, are you having a good time?
Just the solemn upward nod of a man who would rather be anywhere else and wouldstillbarely glance in my direction. We’d flown in together this morning, with him grumbling about quarterly reports and me pretending not to fall asleep on his shoulder. Apparently, that burst of familial warmth had expired upon arrival.
“Glad we had that bonding moment,” I muttered under my breath, a little miffed that Oldest Brother couldn’t be bothered to give me more than a curt chin-lift-nod thing.
I snagged another flute of champagne from a passing tray. If my brother could drink his feelings, so could I. The main sitting room was a glittering wonderland of flickering firelight, twinkling garlands, and crystal bowls overflowing with gold-wrapped truffles.
Stepping through the arched entryway, I took a long sip and let the bubbles fizz across my tongue. I scanned the crowd for someone, anyone, I actually wanted to talk to.
“Oh, look!” The sudden squeal made me flinch.
An older woman I didn’t recognize was staring directly at me, one manicured hand flying to her pearls, the other pointing upward like she’d just spotted Santa himself.
“Mistletoe!” she gasped, her eyes wide with delight.
As if an uncontrolled champagne cork had popped, heads started turning in our direction. Conversations stuttered. Suddenly, every set of eyes in the room was on me.
And then, on him.
Across the archway, leaning casually against the opposite column, was a man built like a brick wall in a tux. A fortress of a guy with broad shoulders, a sharp jaw, and a watch expensive enough to scream that he didn’t check the time, heownedit.
He held a glass of amber liquid, probably scotch that cost more than a luxury SUV.
I followed the woman’s pointing finger, and sure enough, there it was. Mistletoe. A dainty little sprig, hung precisely in the dead center of the archway.
Perfect.
My heart did a tiny, traitorous skip as I looked back at the man. He seemed familiar. Rugged, dark red hair slicked back, cheekbones that could cut glass, and those eyes, ice blue and sharp, narrowing slightly as they met mine.
I had to tilt my chin up and then up again, because he wasthattall, just to even the playing field as I looked into his eyes. Someone nearby tittered. I heard ripples of the word “kiss” floating through the crowd.
“Well,” I said brightly, because silence wasnotmy friend right now. “This is festive.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t move. Instead, he just studied me with quiet amusement like he was waiting to see what I’d do next. To be fair, I was doing the same thing.
Then those ripples grew louder, becoming a chant of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
It rolled through the room like an avalanche gathering speed. My entire face caught fire. The man, mountain he was, shifted, sucking his bottom lip thoughtfully into his mouth. His eyes swept the crowd like he was searching for an exit.
That tiny movement, the tightening of his jaw with his lip caught between his teeth, triggered something in my memory.Wait. I know that jaw. And the hair, dark red, stubborn, never quite behaving even when styled within an inch of its life.
