“Dinner,” Luci chimes out, her expression strained as she goes to Dora, gripping the handles to push her chair.
“Brooke, can I escort you?” Lyam offers his arm, walking to meet me at the door.
But Ric intercepts him and angles himself between us. “Don’t overstep yourself. You can’t haveeverything,little brother.”
I can almost taste the bitterness as Ric glares at Lyam, then slides his hand to my lower back.
My spine stiffens, but he only digs his fingers into my waist.
Resentful energy sparks between the brothers, but I stop paying attention. All I can focus on is the hand on my back.
Suddenly, I’m no longer in the opulence of Maison Marteau but in another grand house.
I’m back there, two years ago, to that night in Beverly Hills. When another man touched me without invitation, his foul words slithering into my ear.
I’ve been watching you.
10
“Brooke? Are you all right?”
I blink away the past to find Lyam staring at me with concern.
“Fine,” I say, pulling myself back to the here and now.
Ric’s hand still rests on my waist, and I fight the urge to reach back and twist a finger. Sudden fury is not like me, and violence is not in my nature, but a wildfire of rage heats up my chest.
Holding myself together, I rein in the emotion. I clench my teeth and reorder my features into a pleasant mask. A handy skill. I am an actress after all, and this isn’t the first social event I’ve faked my way through.
“Ready?” This time I take the initiative, looping my arms through both Lyam’s and Ric’s, one brother on each side. “Such gallantry,” I add with a smile, trying to keep the peace between us all.
Warmth from Ric’s skin radiates through his shirt. Touching him turns my stomach and sours my mouth, but I don’t let my revulsion show.
There’s a point when people-pleasing crosses a line, to a place where you’re giving away a part of yourself. But I haven’tcrossed it with Ric. Not yet. And I can’t risk upsetting anyone in the family.
I need to stay in Maison Marteau until I’ve submitted my audition. Time spent relocating would be time taken away from preparation.
So I’ll handle Ric and his groping hands. I’ll navigate this evening with all the grace I possess, cloaked in manners and shielded by lies.
Not so different from Hollywood and its sordid games. Games my mother taught me to play, for my own protection.
The brothers guide me down another hallway, Ric stiff and silent on my left, while Lyam sends me the occasional grin and points out interesting aspects of the mansion.
The dining room boasts as much elegance as the rest of the home, with enough glitz and glamor to host royal guests. And it probably has. A crystal chandelier glistens above the table, and the chair Ric pulls out for me is an intricate marriage of gold and velvet.
As I sit, he touches me again under the guise of chivalry, trailing his fingers down my back. He moves low enough to make me flinch.
I instantly regret my reaction. He’s toying with me, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me rattled. I recognize the performance for what it is, an assertion of dominance. Ric’s the kind of man who feels entitled—to wealth, deference, pleasure, women.
And now I understand Noah’s warning.
Dora sits regally at the head of the table, catching Ric’s eye for a split second. Just a flash, but the message is clear. Ric huffs through his nose and glowers as he takes a seat across from me.
Luci sits in the chair next to mine, and I relax with warm relief. At least I won’t have to worry about Ric’s stray hands under the table.
Soon the butler begins the dinner service. He and the uniformed woman who took my wine pour drinks and bring the first course, mushroom bisque in a delicate bowl. Once the female servant leaves, the butler takes up position near the door.
Spoon poised over her bowl, Dora fixes me with a look. “Brooke, I hope you’re finding your way around the city and the apartment suits your needs.”
