Page 68 of Moonlit Temptation

A Novak family reunion at its finest.

And not a quick reunion at that.

My father got it into his head some years ago that dinner needed to be an elaborate event. No matter how many bodies were sitting at the table, he liked to have multiple courses. Around four dishes and then a dessert.

It took hours.

Even longer when it was just me and him dining together.

Hours and hours of silence, save for silverware scratching plates.

As course number three was being served, I broke the silence and focused on my brother. “How’s the business, Archer?”

I hoped I faked enough interest in my words. I never asked about his company, but since I still hadn’t heard from Saint, my brother was the only source I could get answers from as to why.

As subtly as possible, that was.

Everyone stopped moving, casting wary looks my way.

For a moment, I worried I did something wrong.

Did I miss the memo of this being a silent dinner?

Or, an even bigger worry, did they somehow know the only reason I was asking? Because of Saint?

No, no, no, that couldn’t be it. There was no way.

“Are you serious?” Archer shot a look to Dad, and I knew he wanted to stab me for opening my mouth.

The stabbing could wait. I had some prying to do.

“Uh, yeah?” I tried to keep my voice neutral.

“You never ask about my job.”

“That’s because it’s boring. But so is this dinner, so excuse me for trying to fill the boring silence with boring conversation.”

Archer’s lips twitched, amused, before turning sullen. “Busy. Hectic. If dinners weren’t mandatory” —he cast a look at our father, who was studying his red wine— “I’d be in the Atlanta office with Saint right now.”

Just his name sent an electrical current through me, distracting me enough that I barely caught the rest of what Archer was saying. “As it is, I have to get on conference calls when dinner’s over.”

“You wouldn’t be drowning in work if your business partner didn’t abandon you for an extended vacation,” Dad chipped in.

“It wasn’t a vacation, Dad. I told you, Saint had unresolved business to take care of. His last meeting didn’t go as planned.”

Me. They’re talking about me.

I was the unresolved business, the meeting that didn’t go as planned. Under the table, I was busy picking at my nails.

Be cool, Mady. Be cool, Mady.

This was actually a lot harder than I thought it would be. The queen of lies was struggling to keep a secret.

Especially as Dad turned to me. “You saw Saint. Did he mention any of this to you?”

This was it. My first test.

Luckily, it was toward my father, where lying felt more natural than the truth.

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