She stared up at the stars just beginning to wink at her and willed her heart rate to slow. After all, she needed to keep a level head. She still had a whole weekend of date nights to get through with Jordan before the big family confrontation.
And for now, just making it back out Jordan’s door without glancing in the direction of his bed seemed like a Herculean feat.
Three
Guess who’s coming to dinner?
The phrase kept clicking through Brooke’s head during the drive to her family’s estate late Sunday afternoon.
The words only drummed louder as Jordan pulled past the security gates up the brick drive toward the ambling stucco mansion with a red tile roof—her childhood home. She suffered no delusions that this would go smoothly. The boardroom hatred between her family and Jordan was long-standing and deep.
She still could hardly believe they’d accepted Emilio into their family, in spite of his partnership in Jefferies Brothers, Incorporated. It said a lot for how much Brittany loved Emilio. However, there wasn’t love present this time, and she feared her family would sense that.
Jordan slid the Jaguar into Park behind the line of other luxury cars. Apparently her siblings had already arrived.
She was lucky to have been born into her family’s wealth, and she worked her tail off managing the Sands Condominium Development to prove she deserved it. Still, that hadn’t stopped some from labeling her a silver-spoon, trust-fund baby. It also hadn’t stopped many two-faced people from wanting something from her. Brooke rubbed the goose bumps along her arms in spite of the temperate Miami December afternoon.
Jordan rounded the hood to open Brooke’s door and lead her up the stairs to the massive mahogany and glass double doors. Garland and bows draping the entrance reminded her of a holiday she hadn’t found time to begin preparing for.
Before they even made it to the top step, the doors swept open to reveal an older lady in a starched blue dress and white apron. “Good evening, Miss Brooke.”
“Hello, Lissette. Could you please let them know in the kitchen that there will be one more for dinner?”
“Of course, Miss Brooke, we’ll have yours out directly.”
Noise rattled from the dining room, clinking silverware against china. Requests for passing this and that, a normal sounding family dinner.
Little did they know …
Jordan glanced down at Brooke. “Your face is pale. Are you all right? Do you need to sit down? We don’t have to do this today. We can keep right on with our apartment dates—”
She squeezed his arm. “I’m fine.” Although she had enjoyed their simple dinners at his place and hers. How she wished they could keep it simple, and yes, hidden, for a while longer. “But thank you for worrying.”
He winked.
Her heels clicked along the tile floors as she made her way across the foyer past the winding staircase, the click, click echoing up to the cavernous ceiling. A Christmas tree—at least twelve feet tall—twinkled. Perfectly wrapped gifts lay beneath. The decorations were beyond lavish this year since Brittany and Emilio would be celebrating a Christmas wedding in three weeks with the reception held here.
Brooke forced even breaths past her lips. All the more reason to reveal the news now and give the dust time to settle so she wouldn’t ruin Brittany’s big day.
They stopped in the dining room entry, waiting. She took the unobserved moment to study her family at the table.
Her brother Parker would blow a gasket. Even with the softening influence of his new wife, Anna, her oldest brother was still unrelenting when it came to his business dealings. His dislike—wow, what a way to soft-soap that—for Jordan was common knowledge.
Her brother Adam had always been emotionally distant from all of them, only just beginning to open up since his surprise marriage to the straight-laced Lauryn.
At least Stephen wasn’t here. One less angry brother to worry about.
Her gaze skipped over her mother—downing a glass of wine—and settled on those most likely to be her allies. Her outgoing twin, Brittany, sat with fiancé Emilio Jefferies.
Even with Emilio’s new standing in the Garrison family, Brooke suffered no delusions. Jordan was the power force behind Jefferies’ attempts to one-up Garrison Inc. by any means possible.
A shattering glass silenced the room.
Brooke jolted as all eyes shifted to Bonita, the matriarch. Her wineglass in shards at her feet, Bonita clapped her hand over her mouth and pointed a wavering finger toward the entryway.
Perhaps Brooke should have made this announcement alone after all.
“Mother, everybody, I’ve brought someone along for dinner. He obviously needs no introduction.”