Page 3 of Marrying His Brother

“Not today. I left him a message about tonight though.”

“You’d think he’d be more involved, considering...”

“Considering we’re getting married in six weeks?” I finish for her, a hint of anger creeping into my voice.

“Yes,” Mom says. “You let him off the hook too easily Emily.”

To be fair, I sort of understand Daniel’s attitude. It can’t be easy accepting your parents’ choice of a bride for you. Daniel is still a teenager in his head and his parents think that the marriage will make him grow up and take responsibility.

I’m not so sure that it will work but I don’t really care. All I care about is the injection of capital the Riviera group will get once Daniel and I are married. After that, he can do whatever pleases him. I won’t be chasing after him.

Chapter 2: Andrew

I pull in and scan the row of guests’ cars, but none are Daniel’s. No surprises there. Daniel will probably be late for his own funeral. I straighten my jacket, taking a moment before heading inside.

The air is cool and I pull in a deep breath, steadying myself. This dinner is important. For once, Daniel is doing something that is completely selfless. Something good for the family.

I step through the front entrance, the voices from the drawing room drifting down the hallway. The butler gives me a nod and I offer a curt one back as I make my way inside. I’m curious to meet Emily Young, Daniel’s bride, the woman willing to marry for the sake of rescuing her family’s business. I can respect that kind of pragmatism.

My mother is the first to look up and greets me with a small smile, though her jaw is tight. She’s good at hiding it, but I know her too well. Daniel being late must be driving her up the wall.

“Andrew, darling,” she says, rising gracefully from her seat to kiss my cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course.” I glance at my father, who is nursing a drink near the window, his expression unreadable. “Evening, Dad.”

“Andrew,” he replies, giving me a brief nod. “You’re just in time.”

I turn back to my mother as she gestures to the two women seated beside her. “Andrew, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Young and her daughter, Emily.”

Mother and daughter stand up. I exchange pleasantries with Mrs. Young. She resembles a delicate porcelain figure, fragile and graceful. Her smile is polite, but there’s a certain weariness in her eyes.

I turn my attention to Emily. And then I stop. For a moment, I forget to breathe.

Emily Young is stunning.

Her simple black and white evening dress hugs her figure just right—elegant, but undeniably sexy. Her deep green, almond-shaped eyes meet mine; cool and assessing. Her oval face, framed by wavesof chestnut brown hair, is serene, composed. She cuts a calm, collected figure.

Not the type of woman I was expecting to meet. I swallow and extend my hand, “Emily.”

She reaches out, her hand cool in mine as we shake. “Andrew,” she says, her voice smooth, polite, but distant. Her eyes, those green eyes, take me in the same way I’m taking her in.

“It’s a pleasure,” I manage to say, though I’m still caught off guard.

She tilts her head ever so slightly, a flicker of something in her gaze—curiosity, maybe. “Likewise.”

“Have you heard from Daniel?” I ask, turning back to my mother, though I already know the answer.

She shakes her head, the faintest irritation slipping through her otherwise calm exterior. “No.”

Father looks at the clock. “We can’t keep waiting for him,” he says, doing a poor job of hiding his annoyance.

I’m irritated too. I hope this doesn’t turn Emily off my brother, but I’m pretty sure she’s well aware of his tardiness.

We move toward the dining room and I find myself walking beside Emily.Pinpricks of awareness light up my skin. I’ll be damned. I’m attracted to my brother’s fiancée. Anyone would be. She’s a very attractive woman and her lavender scent doesn’t help.

We settle into the dining room, the clinking of silverware, and soft conversation filling the air. I can’t shake the tension running through me as I sit beside Emily. The scent of lavender drifts over and it stirs something in me.

Damn it, Andrew. Focus.

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