The four of them nodded at each other in greeting, then followed one of the staff through the house, past a cavernous foyer and directly out onto a sun-baked patio.
Stone archways framed the view, low couches arranged to make the most of the mountains fading blue in the late-afternoon haze. Linen cushions, tall glasses, staff that moved without being seen. Even the sun seemed to dip more slowly here.
“Finally.” Georgina rose from a cushioned chair before Bea could scan the crowd. “You’d think a Ferrari would arrive faster.”
Bea hugged her, as Gage and Hunter shook hands.
Gage glanced at Bea. “She wanted a turn.”
“You let her drive the F12?” Charles wanted to know, as he, Naomi, Isabel, and Mason joined the circle.
“She handles it better than most.” Gage picked up two flutes of champagne, handing one to Bea.
Kind of him not to mention she’d spent five minutes trying to open the fuel tank while he watched. Being a former Honda Civic owner had not prepared her for Italian design.
“Griffin brought the beast.” Mason rubbed his hands together, nodding toward the edge of the balcony where Rafael and Laurent stood talking to a staff member. “He and Duret are planning to take it off-roading.”
“I’ve got the X5, so I might join them,” Charles tossed out, slipping an arm around Naomi’s waist. “Assuming they’re not too scared of getting shown up.”
“Laurent would run it into a tree just to win the bet,” Isabel deadpanned.
“Excuse us,” Gage said smoothly. “I see my parents.”
He steered Bea with a light hand at her back. Positioning, not affection. She didn’t need a translation. Nor did anyone else on the patio.
Elena King wore cream silk, pearls, and a cool smile. Victor, beside her, was sharp in navy and stone.
“Mother. Father,” Gage greeted. “You remember Bea.”
“Of course,” Elena said, leaning in to kiss Bea’s cheek. “How lovely to see you again.”
“Thank you, Mrs. King.” Bea returned the gesture smoothly.
“Please,” Elena said, with a gracious tilt of her head. “You must call us Elena and Victor.”
Victor’s handshake was brief. His gaze was assessing but not unfriendly. “Bea,” he said, not stumbling on the pronunciation. “Enjoy the drive?”
Bea glanced at Gage. “He chose the right car for the winding roads.”
Victor looked at his son, then back at her. “Yes. Gage tends to select well.”
She didn’t miss the double meaning. The test had begun, and she hadn’t even finished her welcome drink.
Might as well lean into it. “I’ll try not to tank his average.”
A flicker passed through Victor’s eyes—surprise, maybe amusement. From beside her, Gage’s lips tipped up by a fraction.
“I imagine you’ve already felt the weight of what this weekend asks of you,” Elena said, surprising her with directness.
You knew this was coming. You dressed for it. Time to perform. English only. No blinking. No breakdowns.
“The pressure’s real, but so is the tailoring,” Bea said. “Georgie, Naomi, and Isabel have made sure of it.”
“They do seem to like you,” Elena mused. “Three allies. In a room like this, that’s currency.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“She’ll be fine,” Gage said. Like he had no doubt.
