“I’ll see you for New Year’s,” I promise.
Because I’m enough of a stalker to know that Dimitri spends New Year’s here, in New York, for his company’s fancy bash every year.
"Fine," Morgan concedes. "Tell me when you can come, and I'll send you the tickets."
4
DIMITRI
She’s not coming.
Of course she isn’t. I’m here, after all.
My hand involuntarily tightens around my fork as Morgan keeps babbling about her baby sister’s amazing grades. Like I don’t have a full copy of her transcript sent to my inbox every semester. If Willow Brown had been anyone else, I would have sent head hunters to recruit her years ago. But the last thing I need is for her to work for me.
Again.
The summer she interned at my company a couple of years back was the single most unproductive time in my entire life.
“I don’t like the sound of the company she works with,” Camden says, eyes narrowed. “The staff turnover is too high for an entry-level position—and too low for old, entitled pricks.” He his frown on me. “Can you still keep an eye on her?”
“Certainly,” I say easily, as always.
He’s asked me that every year since he got together with Morgan. My answer has always been the same.
Back when I didn’t even know her name, it meant having her on the very short list ofcontacts who could actually get through to me any time, in case she had an emergency, and having my name as one of the point of contacts with her school.
Now, many eyes under my employ are constantly on Willow Brown, and it has nothing to do with Camden or his wife.Neither of them are aware of how closely she’s monitored. It would likely reassure them, but it would also open a line of questioning I’m not prepared for.
Why do I have a security detail on your kid sister? You see, I spanked her ass once and thought it a good idea to know what she was up to twenty-four seven since.
That’s completely logical and not at all insane.
In truth, Willow has proven that my instinct to have her lightly stalked was wise. But now’s not the time to think about her second life as a cam girl, fucking herself on camera for tips.
"It's delicious, as usual, Morgan," I say, mostly to distract myself—and change the subject.
I mean it.
I have a Michelin-star chef working for me around the clock, but it's rare I ever eat something homecooked for me. It's a nice change. Morgan uses more salt and cheese and grease than Leonor ever would.
"Yes,"Adrian readily agrees. "Thank you for the invite, Morgan darling."
"It's not much of a Christmas dinner," she admits.
"I'll take it over eating fine dining alone back home, any day," I say.
I don't know when we all agreed to ditch our formal Christmas plans in the Hunt mansion in favor of lasagna at Camden and Morgan's new place, but I'm glad for the change.
I may not be related to anyone in this house, but to me, they're family.
I've known Adrian my whole life. Growing up, my father used to drop me off at the Hunts’ any time he had business in the States, which was often, and later, when I went to boarding school, it was understood that I would spend the holidays there. Valentina was always more than happy to have me around.
Adrian's a dozen years older than me. He could have completely ignored the moody, dark kid brooding in the shadows, but instead, he took me in, like a big brother, teaching me to play ball, skating, hunting. And how to have fun. I wasn’t great at that until I met him.
I was seven when he knocked up his then-girlfriend. I figured he'd be too busy for me from that point; instead, when he married his baby mama and set up his own house, he had a room for me. So, in turn, Cam became like a little brother to me.
Fast forward twenty-two years, and it feels right for all of us to be around the table, Valentina still gorgeous in her sharp, white dress, wearing too many diamonds, Morgan, with her messy bun and her denim shorts, Adrian and Cam.