Page 5 of Fated

I nod. “Of course I do. Mila said she helped you pick it out.”

He smiles. He softens when he smiles. Usually his hard-planed face is austere with a wry light tinting his brown eyes. His expression is often hawkish and determined, reminiscent of his Roman ancestors crossing the Rubicon. But with his smile the hawk turns into a dove. Gentle and offering a peaceful retreat.

“I admit, I may have asked her for a bit of advice.” He smiles so openly that I don’t even object when he pulls me closer.

His black tux is well-fitted, custom-tailored, and winter-sleek. The gloss matches the high shine of his black hair. Like me, his family has been here forever. But unlike mine, his was first in gold and then in diamonds and then in jewelry. The Barones have been here as long as the Abrys. Which is one of the reasons why Max and I get along so well.

We’ve been friends since my dad’s funeral, when he made a joke about all six of my dad’s ex-wives weeping in front of the chateau, saying in French, “They’re like Henry the Eighth’s wives, except they all survived. A bit morbid, isn’t it? How many of them lived again? I can never remember English history.”

“Divorced, beheaded, and died. Divorced, beheaded, survived,” I said, eyeing my mum sobbing over a handful of rose quartz.

“Wow. Very nice. Who was he to you? Not anyone important, I imagine. Half the people here are just clamoring for a handout in the will.”

“Really? What would you want? If you got a handout.”

He thought about this for a moment, staring up at the gray stone walls of the chateau hunched under the heavy gray sky. “I’d ask for that brass umbrella stand in the entry. It’s hideous, and I could hide all sorts of important items in it. Diamonds, documents, my passport. No thief would ever suspect it on account of its ugliness.”

I scoffed. That ugly umbrella stand was a wedding gift from my mum. “Don’t you have a safe?”

He shrugged. “What’s the fun in that? I bet old Abry kept the family jewels in that stand. What would you angle for if you were in the will?”

I thought about it for a moment. I already knew what I was getting. The family business, near bankruptcy. I was also eight weeks pregnant and in over my head.

But what would I want if I were just clamoring for a handout?

“There’s a watch that went missing years ago. It was the first timepiece Adolphus Abry ever made. I’d ask for that.”

Adolphus Abry is my renowned ancestor and founder of the family business.

Max whistled. “Big ask. Not for mere hangers-on and acquaintances like us. Who was old Abry to you anyway? Family friend? Business associate? Are you seeking charity for a just cause? It makes a difference in what you’ll get. He was a cantankerous old goat.”

I lifted my eyebrows.

Apparently, Max didn’t hold with not speaking ill of the dead.

“I’m the cantankerous old goat’s beloved daughter.”

Max stared at me, mortified. He was twenty-six at the time, the same age as me, and he’d take over his family’s worldwide jewelry conglomerate the very next year.

“I’m sorry. Forget we met. Forget I said anything. Oh, one of those wailing banshees is your mother? Is that right? Now I’m truly sorry.”

I couldn’t tell if he was saying sorry that he’d insulted my mum or sorry that Buttercupwasmy mum.

At that I laughed. It was the first time I’d laughed since Daniel called to say Dad had died of a heart attack.

The next week I couriered Max the umbrella stand with a red ribbon and a card that said, “For your family jewels, from the old goat.”

Two months later, with a small baby bump, I ran into Max at a charity concert. He looked at my bump, looked at the expression on my face, and then said, “Are you on your own?”

I lifted my chin. “No. I have my brother.”

“You can have me too.”

At my look, he said, “As a friend.”

And so we’ve remained friends for almost nine years.

But as he reaches up and carefully sweeps a loose tendril of hair behind my ear, I know Max doesn’t want to be friends anymore.

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