Page 21 of When Hearts Awaken

I grin, thinking back to our childhood. Sometimes, when Mom was at work, Grace and I would ditch high school and wander on Fifth Avenue, eyeing all the expensive clothes costing more than our rent, the hordes of tourists snapping photos of the most famous street in New York City. We’d always make it a point to stop in front of the fifty-plus story building housing The Orchid.

We’d stand there in the sweltering heat, dressed in ripped jeans and thrifted T-shirts, jaw slacked at the chrome and glass exteriors of the building rumored to have everything anyone could ever dream of—top Michelin restaurants, spas, suites, bars, gyms, and other amenities. We’d even tried entering one time, only to be kicked out by the security decked in their suits and ties.

Grace vowed to me then she’d make it one day on her own and be rich and powerful enough to get one of these exclusive invitations even money couldn’t buy.

“It’s funny how things turned out, don’t you think?” She smiles.

“I’m happy for you, sis.” I nudge her gently on the side.

Itisfunny how things turned out. The girl who didn’t want love because she didn’t want to depend on anyone ended up being hopelessly in love with a wonderful man who treats her like the queen.

And the girl who wished she could find her prince and dance with him until the end of time ended up…

Broken.

The pinch in my chest becomes a throbbing ache.None of that shit, Lochness Monster! Go away!

“Ladies, glad to see you here,” a deep voice murmurs and we turn to see Ethan striding toward us with a few of our half-siblings and Steven in tow, looking like stock photos for handsome, powerful businessmen in their tailored suits and shiny shoes.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. You guys are unveiling a few new lounges and spaces in here. So exciting!” Grace smiles at him as Ethan pulls her into a side hug.

He grins, a dimple appearing on one side of his face, and the transformation is almost astonishing. Even though he’s the second youngest in the Anderson sibling pecking order, Ethan is serious and sharp, part of what makes him a great CFO.

“I approve. I was afraid of my sisters being boring like someone over here,” Rex quips, waggling his brows at Ethan, who rolls his eyes heavenward.

“How are you older than me, C? Are our birth certificates wrong?” Ethan mutters, referring to his older brother by a year with his middle initial.

Apparently, there were too many Anderson offsprings, so their parents alphabetized their middle names—Maxwell, the eldest with the middle name Angus, Ryland with Benedict, Rex with something he won’t tell us, but it starts with a C. Then Ethan with Delaney, and Lana with Elise.

It turned out Mom secretly continued the tradition with our middle names. Grace is Felicity and mine is Gianna.

Maybe our lives would’ve turned out differently if we discovered our lineage earlier. The Andersons are a rare breed—even I have to admit they have good heads on their shoulders despite hailing from one of the richest and most powerful families in the country.

“So, have you checked out the new spaces yet? I spent a lot of time working with the designers on them.” Rex arches his brow expectantly.

“He only worked on one of them,” Ethan murmurs. “Because interior design isnotpart of the business of our chief marketing officer. He only butt in because he’s going to take advantage of that space.”

“Which space?” I ask.

The brothers stare at each other, and just as Rex is about to answer, another person joins us.

“The Sanctuary on the Rose floors, which you ladies willnotvisit,” Ryland announces, referring to the few floors in the building dedicated to pursuits of a more lustful nature.

“Why not? We’re adults.” I scowl at my second-eldest brother, the Prince of the USA as the media calls him, the more charismatic half of the brooding Anderson fraternal twins. He’s the powerhouse of the family—chief operating officer by day and college professor by night.

Ryland smirks. “Barely legal. Nope. Not happening.”

“Stick to bossing your students around, Ryland, not us,” Grace quips as Steven slides up to her and pulls her to his side. The king of Wall Street loosens his tie and unleashes a devastating smile as Grace melts into his embrace.

“She’s got a point, Ryland. They aren’t your students. They’re modern, independent women who can decide for themselves.” Steven presses a soft kiss on my sister’s lips.

Like I said—disgustingly besotted with each other.

“Sellout, Steven. You’re a sellout,” Ethan mutters, his dark eyes twinkling.

“Who’s selling what? You guys aren’t giving me another PR nightmare to deal with, right?” Lana, our older sister, sweeps in, her long brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She’s the head of PR at Fleur.

“Ryland thinks as women, we can’t visit the Rose floors,” Grace volunteers, doling out an evil smile at Ryland.

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