One of the men I researched was expectedto attend tonight’s dinner party, so I supposed this was a time-sensitive issue. When I finally had all the information organized, I delivered it to the dining room where Remington had set up shop.

“Here. This is everything I could find.”

He glanced up from his work and took the print out I prepared. His gaze moved over the information quickly. “What about the PCK fellow?”

“He’ll have to wait. I need to get back to the house to get ready.”

“I asked for reports on both.”

“That’s funny, Remington because I asked for a personal day.” Our eyes met, and I dared him to say another word, especially when he had not even thanked me for giving him a few hours on my day off.

“Success doesn’t take a holiday, Meyers.”

“Well, I do. Hale’s waiting for me.”

He sighed and set the papers aside, realizing he wasn’t going to win this one. “I hired a car for tonight.”

I paused, hating the position I frequently found myself in whenever Remington tried to micromanage the minor details of our life. Sometimes, it was like navigating a minefield between thetwo of them.

Initially, I found Remington’s gestures thoughtful. But over the years, I learned how much these littlehelpfulmoves irritated Hale. He saw his father’s thoughtfulness as heavy-handedness. And Remington saw his son’s reluctance to accept help as stubbornness. As far as I was concerned, they were both stubborn jackasses.

When I returned to the house, I fixed my hair. Hale was already dressed in his tux, and I was dreading my dress. Elegance was always a challenge for me, but being pregnant made it more so.

The pre-Thanksgiving dinner party was a tradition that the Davenports attended every year. No one really got excited about them, but skipping the affair was out of the question.

“Oh, I remember those old, dusty dinner parties,” Naomi commented when she popped into our room to ask where Elara’s extra bibs were. “The food’s usually good.”

I had somehow escaped this social obligation during my prior Thanksgivings with the Davenports, but I was running out of excuses and Hale was insistent that I attend with him this year.

“I look ridiculous in this dress.” The DiLorenzo gown fell to the floor in soft chiffon ripples as I moved to the mirror. The low-cut neckline was black velvet and hung off one shoulder. I chewed my lip, considering what other options I had. “I should change.”

“What? No.” Naomi crossed the room and turned me slowly. “You look stunning.”

I scrunched my nose. The skirt of the dress was intentionally sheer. The taupe layers were dotted with velvet, providing slight camouflage, but my bodysuit underneath was completely visible to anyone looking hard enough.

“I look like an eggplant.” My boobs were bursting past the neckline, my belly was protruding, and I never knew what to do with my hair.

“You look lovely. Here, let me try something.” Naomi set down the bibs and ushered me to the vanity chair. “You forget I owned a salon for half my life.”

It wasn’t that I forgot. It was that I never wanted to impose.

“And for the record, yourdecolletagelooks sexy. It’ll be a show stopper, for sure.”

“Shows can stop for disasters, too, you know.”

“Stop that.” She unwoundmy hair and heated a curling iron to add waves. Ten minutes later, she had me looking ready for a photoshoot. “You need something for your neck. Let me see your phone.”

I handed it to her, unsure how my phone might help us.

She pressed a button and brought it to her ear. “Remy, do you still have your mother’s jewels here?”

I frowned and waved for her to forget it, but she turned away.

“Yes, in the old chest. It’s for Rayne. The black diamonds, I think. Perfect. Thank you.” She ended the call. “He’s having Alphonse run them over.”

“Naomi, I can’t wear Remington’s mother’s jewels.”

“Of course you can. She left them to the kids. They’re family heirlooms, and you’re family.”