“People?” I asked.
“Friends. Donors. A few foundation board members.” His gaze moved to Isa again. “A business reporter may stop by tomorrow for a profile piece.”
I laughed once.
“There it is.”
Richard’s brows lifted. “There what is?”
“You didn’t invite me home for Thanksgiving. You invited me home for optics.”
“I invited my son home,” he said smoothly. “If the optics have improved, that’s hardly my fault.”
My jaw locked.
Isa’s hand tightened in mine.
Richard looked between us and smiled.
He had always been good at that.
Making a threat sound like etiquette.
Everett lifted his glass.
“To growth,” he said dryly.
Beckett smiled at Isa.
“And to family holidays finally getting interesting.”
I took one step.
Isa’s hand locked around mine.
Hard.
“Drew,” she said.
One word.
Not loud.
Not pleading.
A command.
I stopped.
Barely.
Beckett noticed that too.
His smile changed.
Yeah.
This was going to be a long fucking weekend.
