Page 28 of When Hearts Ignite

Charles sighs and turns his focus on me. He crosses his arms, his striking blue eyes narrowing, and along with his blond hair and tall frame, he looks every inch a stock photo model for Scandinavian royalty, a joke coined by my sisters and their friends, which garners a roll of his eyes every time we bring it up. He raises an eyebrow at me, and I let out an exasperated groan.

“There’s no woman. Work is my wife. I don’t do relationships. They’re messy, distracting, and completely unnecessary.” I look at the men in the room, pining them down with my glare, only to be met with bemused expressions on their faces.

“That’s because you haven’t met the right woman,” Adrian responds, the normal coldness on his features softening as he is clearly thinking about my sister and their rags-to-riches, star-crossed lovers epic romance, which had its fair share of drama and turmoil, another cautionary tale of the perils of emotional entanglements, in my opinion.

Parker nods. “With the right woman, your life could very well change for the better. Liz saved me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my life!” I slam the glass on the table and stand up, the sudden outburst shocking everyone in the room, including myself.

I could feel my face heat, a burning sensation spreading from the center of my chest to my extremities, and I grit my teeth, wanting to hurl something at someone, anything to dispel the perturbing sensations coursing through me. My stomach churns and protests, and I feel as if my dinner will make a reappearance at any second. Turning to face the windows, I drag in a deep breath, trying to calm myself and chase away this insanity plaguing me.

“Hey, man. Are you okay? We make fun of you and all, but we’re just worried about you. You don’t look so good these days. Is it TransAmerica?” Charles furrows his brows.

I let out a sigh. “That’s part of it. Things are going to shit soon, I can tell. Voss is circling like a fucking vulture. We’re on standby, ready to go to battle if they drop the first bomb. I don’t know what Father would do if something happened to the company.”

“I thought you weren’t going to get involved.”

Shaking my head, I sit back down and stare at the drink on the table in front of me. “I guess I’m not coldhearted enough for that. If he loses TransAmerica…if I don’t save it for him, he’d be heartbroken.” Or at least, whatever’s left of his heart.

“You know, you don’t need to prove yourself to him.” Ryland’s piercing gaze settles on me.

I attempt to swallow the lump stuck in my throat, but it doesn’t dislodge.

Ryland sighs. “Anything we can do to help? You honestly look like you haven’t been sleeping. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve scrubbed the face of your watch at least five times since you got here.”

Looking down, I find my fingers hovering over the glass face, and I wrench them away. I force my lips into a half smile. “Don’t worry. I have it all handled for now. If things get worse, I’ll let you guys know.”

Knock. Knock.

The crisp knocks on the door interrupt my chaotic thoughts and seconds later, three more Andersons waltz into the room. Rolling my eyes heavenward, I groan, burying my face in my hands. Leave it to me to pick the day I have an irrational meltdown, or whatever we want to call this, to be the day I finally meet up with friends, all powerful players on both coasts who can see right through any bullshit I spiel.

“What’s with the face, Steven? What did I miss?” Rex, the party animal of the five Anderson siblings—four brothers and one sister—the classic troublemaker middle child, prances in, unbuttoning his suit jacket with one hand. His eyes, the same color as his elder brother, are already sparkling with interest at the idea of gossip. He ruffles his already disheveled brown hair and smirks. The man sniffs out gossip like a shark detects blood in the waters.

“Steven here, the Mr. Workaholic who doesn’t sleep or have time for us, decided to make a detour at a karaoke lounge and sing a sappy, romantic song in front of an audience, after a strange interaction with a mysterious woman from his office,” Charles unhelpfully supplies.

“Oh. Tell me more.” Rex happily plops down on one of the open armchairs across from me and leans forward, his elbows on his thighs, the face of rapt interest. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had secretly turned on his phone and were recording this for leverage later on.

“It was a bet. How many times do I have to tell you guys this? Are you all a bunch of pussies with your panties in a twist?” My teeth gnash against each other and my jaw aches.

Maxwell, the eldest and broodiest of the Anderson brothers, Ryland’s fraternal twin, a recluse who’s usually holed up inside the family mansion, his office, or The Orchid, and is rarely seen in public, quirks a brow, his face devoid of other tells or emotions. He saunters toward the wet bar with a quiet confidence befitting his role as the current CEO of Fleur Entertainment and pours himself a drink. “Ignore him, Steven. Don’t engage. You’ll only encourage him.”

“Well, Your Majesty, not everyone here has the weight of the world on their shoulders to contend with,” Rex throws back, a smirk on his face. “Some of us commoners need gossip in order to get through our day.”

“Like you can be considered a commoner,” Ethan, number four in the Anderson sibling pecking order, mutters. “You’re our Chief Marketing Officer, for fuck’s sake, your net worth is more than most people in New York.”

“Obviously it was a hyperbole, Ethan.”

“But seriously, Steven, are you leaving the bachelorhood? I thought you’d be the last person to get together with a woman…for good.” Ethan leans against the stone wall of the fireplace, looking bemused at this entire spectacle.

“No. They’re blowing it completely out of proportion. This was a bet with a friend. She said I didn’t have a life outside of work and if I did this, I’d prove her wrong. That’s all that was.”

“And this is not a ‘friend’ from our Rose floors?” I think that was Rex again.

“I already ended it with Liesel.”

“Since when are you friends with women, anyway?” Ryland murmurs, his lips tilting up in a smile as if he read every thought in my mind the last few minutes.

I stand back up and toss my hands into the air. “And this is why I don’t meet with you guys more often. I do have friendships with women. Your younger sister, Lana, remember? Where is she, anyway? She’d be on my side.”

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