“Grayson,” Sofia finished then moved to the door, pushed it wide, and motioned for them to enter.
When Cass simply stood in place, Grayson came up to her side and caught her fisted hand. Her hand uncurled, and he wove their fingers together, giving her something to hold on to. She took a bracing breath and stepped inside.
He immediately saw he was right about the renovations. The herringbone pattern floor spread through an open space leading from the front to the back with very little interruption. To the right was a white baby grand and a formal sitting area that spilled into a heavily influenced euro-style kitchen with clean lines. Above them, soaring ceilings and glass partitions on the second-floor railing added to the illusion of space. A floating chandelier of glass birds caught in mid-flight hovered over the sunken living room, where two crescent-shaped cream-colored couches surrounded a natural-stone boulder that served as a table. Along the far wall was a low shelf filled with various bits and pieces, including potted greenery. All of that sat in front of floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened onto a luxurious patio with a resort-style pool. As tasteful as the house was, it was clearly a showpiece, not a home.
Behind them, the whoosh of the front door closing made the hair at the back of his neck rise, but before he could process that unsettling moment, the steady clip of heels against the light wood floor preceded the appearance of a woman who had to be Cass’s mother. The three females were close in height. Like her daughters, Cass’s mother wore her hair long. Unlike theirs, hers was a striking combination of silvers, whites, and grays set off by a black V-neck tunic, her natural curls carefully tamed into a polished wave. The older woman’s eyes, though, were the same startling gold, browns, and greens that Cass hid behind her glasses. And at the moment, those eyes were aimed at Cass, with pain flashing through them before they turned assessing.
Cass’s mother stopped a few feet away and didn’t open her arms for a hug. “Why do you insist on wearing those hideous glasses, Cassandra? You don’t need them.”
He felt Cass’s fingers twitch in his hold, but her voice was pleasantly polite. “Hello, Mother.” Her attention shifted to the equally urbane dark-haired man who came up behind her mother and stopped at her side, his hand coming to rest at her back as they faced their oldest daughter. “Father.”
“Cassandra,” he returned, his gaze going to Grayson.
Cass caught the silent prompt and introduced him. “This is Grayson. He’s a friend.”
“Grayson.” Her father held out his hand. “Elias Ambrose.”
Not Alcmene? He made a note to ask Cass about the last name later as he shook the man’s hand. “Grayson Beck.”
“And since our daughter seems to have forgotten her manners, I’m Rhea.”
“Rhea,” he acknowledged even as her deliberate jab set his teeth on edge. He inclined his head. “My condolences on your family’s loss.”
There was a minuscule thaw in her brittle composure that disappeared as fast as it had come on. “Yes, well…” Rhea murmured with a curious detachment, her attention shifting to the hall behind them.
He pivoted with Cass, the two of them moving in tandem, as two men walked toward them, one close to their age, the other older. The younger man gave them a curious look but clasped the older man on the shoulder before moving to Sofia’s side. He curled an arm around her waist, pulled her close, and bent his head to say something too low to hear. At Grayson’s side, Cass gave a jerk that Grayson more felt than saw.
The older man continued forward, joining the small group. He wore his dark slacks and light button-down shirt like a well-worn pair of jeans and a T-shirt. His hair was cut short, minimizing his receding hairline, and his eyes were sharp behind the understated frames on the prominent bridge of his nose. His gaze landed on Cass, and that sharpness softened while a welcoming curve eased the stark line of his lips.
He set his leather folder on a nearby entry table then moved to Cass, his hands extended. “Ms. Amb… Alcmene, I hadn’t expected you so soon.”
Cass stepped forward and took his hand briefly before letting him go. “Mr. Swanson, I presume?”
“Yes, so sorry.” Flustered, he nudged the bridge of his glasses. “I should’ve introduced myself formally, but you look remarkably like your grandmother.”
“Thank you.”
When she moved stiffly back to Grayson, he did the only thing he could to offer comfort—he set a supporting hand at her hip. Cass’s smile was strained at the edges as she leaned into his touch.
“And no harm done,” she said graciously. “I recognized your voice.” When Swanson’s attention went to Grayson, she put a hand on Grayson’s stomach. “This is my friend Grayson.”
Swanson’s gaze flicked to the others behind them before coming back to her and Grayson. “It’s good to have friends at your side, especially during such difficult times.”
Something in his voice held a warning, and it tripped Grayson’s protective streak. Not that he had any right to one when it came to Cass, but standing in the middle of what felt like shark-infested waters, he didn’t think twice about issuing his own warning. “Cass is family, and we tend to take care of our own.”
A flare of approval was there and gone. “Well, then.” Swanson cleared his throat and redonned his professional demeanor. “Did you get a chance to see her?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Swanson dipped his head.
“Will you be staying here, Cassandra?” her father asked politely.
The hand at his stomach fisted his T-shirt as she held on to him. Since he was feeling a bit surrounded, he gave Cass’s hip a gentle squeeze before, as subtly as possible, he rotated their position, herding Swanson into the center so he and Cass were facing the rest of the family.
“If so, I’ll need to prepare the guest room,” her mother added, her tone indicating such an accommodation would be a massive chore.
“I—”
