“It was,” he replies, his eyes twinkling.
Ansel is watching all this with wide eyes, and so I reach down and touch his thigh, gently reassuring him. He’ll get used to it, I think. He has to get used to it. This is my family. And we’re committed to one another.
This is going to go well. It must.
As we all drink, waiting for the appetizer that Harley is secretly raving about, Wylder walks in with Candace at his side. She, of course, looks impeccable, as if she spent ages putting herself together. How she’d hate to know that my Ansel wakes up looking this good and doesn’t even have to lift a finger.
Candace ignores us as she sweeps by and takes a seat at the head of the table near Wylder, earning long eye rolls from everyone in attendance. She doesn’t belong here; she’ll never belong. She has no idea we’re The Firm, and I’m sure if she did know, she’d resent it.
She wants Wylder to fit a mold he wasn’t made for.
And it bothers her endlessly that he won’t conform.
“She doesn’t know who we are,” I whisper in Ansel’s ear. “So say nothing about it.”
He knows I mean The Firm by the way he bobs his head, taking another long sip of his wine. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes slightly wide, but the drink seems to be helping him relax. I can see it in the way his shoulders drop and his breathing grows steadier.Perhaps wine wasn’t the right choice, but then again, I haven’t been able to say no to him yet. Can’t see myself learning now.
“Will you introduce me to the guest?” Candace asks Wylder, sounding annoyed that she has to prompt him.
And the way she says “guest”makes me bristle, but I choke down a retort. Last time I insulted her, Wylder refused to assign me any cases that involved murder for an entire month.
It was torture.
Wylder’s head twists around slowly. “Ah, yes. I forgot you haven’t met. It feels like ages since he arrived. This is Ansel. He’s a…friend of Cade’s.”
“Boyfriend,” I retort, and Wylder nods. Ansel doesn’t argue. I take this as a positive.
“Apologies. Yes, boyfriend. Ansel, this is my girlfriend, Candace.”
Candace nods as Ansel sips on his wine, offering a polite nod but nothing else. I’m glad. I don’t want him sharing anything with her.
Unfortunately, Candace isn’t done with my butterfly yet. “Nice to meet you, Ansel. Such an interesting name. Where is it from?”
Ansel looks at her, clearing his throat. “Well, Ansel is Germanic in origin, and it means divine, so…”
Candace eyes him. “Hm, wonderful. My name means queenly.”
Dalton snorts at that, taking a loud gulp of his drink and earning a scowl from Wylder.
“Queen Candace, then.” Ansel lifts his wineglass slightly.
Candace doesn’t get the sarcasm, or if she does, she ignores it.
She turns to Wylder and starts speaking in low tones to him, ignoring the rest of us. My brother leans into her, listening intently. I have no idea what spell she has over him, but I could honestly toss her out with the garbage tonight and not be sad about it.
Just as I think that, Jules appears with a cart, sweeping in with a flourish.
“So sorry I’m late. We had two unexpected guests that I wasn’t informed about, and I had to scramble. But only the best French food for my wonderful friends.”
His soft French accent floats over us, and Ansel perks up.
“He’s aFrenchcook?”
“Mhm.”
He wiggles in his seat, his stomach grumbling loudly. “Oh, I can’t wait. I fucking love French food.”
“Have you been to France?” I ask as Jules begins to explain the dishes, setting them out before each of us.
