“Don’t go overboard,” he murmured, eyes back on the road. “You’ll offend Amalie. She’s very proud of her kitchen.”

“It was an empty threat. I’m hooked well and good.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “If it’s difficult for you to fix your own meals, I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“Hey. I’m not a princess. I can make my own sandwich—thank you very much.” Though the idea of Lucian making one for me had its merits. Spending more time with him, chief among them.

He tossed me a challenging look. “Can you really?”

“You don’t have to look so dubious. All right . . . I admit I am a horrible cook. Everything comes out bland or dry. But I can slap peanut butter on bread.”

His expression told me all I needed to know about his thoughts on my sandwich-making abilities. “Don’t worry, honeybee; there will be lunch ready for you. Meals are one thing you can count on at Rosemont.”

“Snoopy, honeybee . . . I’m not certain I like that you have so many names to tease me.” Lie. I loved it. But he didn’t need to know that.

Lucian, however, got that gleam back in his eyes, even though he kept them on the road. “Put Brick back into the rotation, and we’ll be even.”

My heart skipped a beat. He’d noticed I’d stopped using it. I felt awful for having called him something that hit too close to the bone for him. And yet here he was challenging me to use it again. Maybe there was power in embracing what could be perceived as a weakness and making it your own. Or maybe men were strange beasts, and I’d never fully understand them.

Either way, I shrugged, as if unaffected. “How about brick head? Seems accurate half the time.”

Lucian chuckled and pulled into his parking spot under the shade of a towering eucalyptus. “Sounds about right.”

His humor ebbed as he caught sight of the two SUVs parked in the lot.

“Looks like Amalie has company.”

Lucian grunted, then got out, still eyeing the vehicles. He waited for me to round the pickup and come alongside him before heading toward the path that led to the grounds and my bungalow. Silence fell as we walked, and I could feel the tension radiating off him.

However he was before, I didn’t know, but this version of Lucian Osmond did not like unexpected guests. If I had to guess, he would disappear until they were long gone.

Then again, I’d been assuming the guests were Amalie’s. But as we rounded the corner that took us to the terrace of the big house, Lucian’s step faltered. A low and vicious “Motherfuck” tore from him as he spotted the people having drinks at one of the tables.

There was an undercurrent of pure panic in his tone, and I felt compelled to brush my arm with his just once, my finger trailing over his curled fist. He jerked his gaze my way, pale eyes pained, panicked, and a little surprised. But he’d felt my touch, and his pinky twined with mine for a brief moment of acknowledgement.

“Friends of yours?” I murmured.

“You could say that.” Lucian moved just enough to put space between us.

One of the men stood and shouted a jovial “Oy! Ozzy!”

Visibly bracing himself, Lucian trudged forward. I could, in theory, retreat to my bungalow. But it would be rude. More importantly, I’d be abandoning Lucian to face whatever this was.

Maybe he doesn’t want you around to witness it, my inner voice hissed. But it was too late. We were already at the table.

There were three guests, all of them around our age. The one who’d shouted stood and spread his massive arms wide in clear happiness. A big bear of a man, he was taller than Lucian by an inch but likely outweighed him by a good twenty pounds. Shaggy sandy hair with a thick beard that framed a smile broken up by a missing right lateral incisor—the man lumbered over to a stone-faced Lucian and gathered him up in what looked like a bone-bending hug.

“Oz,” he said, practically picking Lucian up. “You dick. No word in months, and all this time, you’ve been hiding away in paradise.”

Lucian let out a strained ghost of a laugh. “So you decided to invade it, huh?”

“Didn’t leave me much choice, did you?” The man’s smile was still in place when he let Lucian go, but it was strained now. And I knew he was unsure of his welcome. A pang went through me, because it was clear this man thought the world of Lucian.

His blue eyes glanced over at me and paused. “Hello . . .” I was treated to another tilted but charming smile. “And you are . . . holy shit.” His booming voice cracked. “You’re Emma Maron, aren’t you?”

Instant spotlight on me. I felt it every time. My smile automatically wanted to go into public-relations mode. I resisted the urge. This was Lucian’s friend. “Yes.”

Lucian grunted, then inclined his head. “Emma, this lummox is Axel Bromwell. We call him Brommy.”

“We hockey players love our nicknames.” Brommy extended a bear paw for me to shake. But he lifted my hand and kissed the air over my knuckles. “Princess Anya. It is a pleasure.”

“Emma, please.” It was awkward enough with Lucian stiff at my side.

“Jesus, Brom, cut it out,” Lucian grumped. “She’s not her character.”

Brommy rolled his eyes. “I know that. You stored your stick up your ass, didn’t you?” He didn’t appear to be bothered by this notion, though, and took my hand to link our arms. “Sorry about that, Emma. Momentarily starstruck is all. I’m okay now.”

I snickered, and he winked, eyes bright. “But feel free to pull out a whip if I misbehave again.”

Princess Anya had been handy with a whip.

Behind me Lucian growled an unintelligible curse. Ignoring him, Brommy led me to the table, where two other newcomers waited. I noticed the man immediately. How could I not? He was a slightly washed-out version of Lucian—same basic bone structure, though his nose was slimmer, more elegant, and his face a bit narrower.

His hair wasn’t the rich, bittersweet-chocolate tinged with cherry highlights but was medium brown. He had green eyes under straight brows, but whereas Lucian’s and Amalie’s were stunningly pale like frosted-over jade, his were a warmer grape green. Beautiful in their own right and calculating.

The worst of it was he noticed my study of him and liked it. I had the idea that he assumed I was interested. I wasn’t. The man was gorgeous, but I didn’t feel a glimmer of attraction. It didn’t stop him from rising and kissing my hand as Brommy had done. But where Brommy made me want to laugh, this guy had me wanting to snatch my hand back as soon as possible.