“Hello, lovely,” he said. “I’m Anton.”

“Are you Lucian’s brother?”

Behind me Lucian made a noise that I interpreted as “As if.”

Anton’s smile was sly. “First cousin. I got the good genes.”

“Hmm.” My attention moved on to the woman who stood and was practically hopping from foot to foot with impatience. She was probably a few years younger than me and cute as hell.

She, too, had brown hair, although hers curled in a bouncy halo around the oval of her face. And those grape-green eyes.

“Tina,” she blurted out, shoving Anton to the side. Either she was strong as hell, or he was used to her pushing him out of the way. Probably both. “Anton’s sister and Luc’s cousin. And oh my God, I’m going to be a dork like Brommy, because I just love, love, love Dark Castle, and I can’t believe Mamie didn’t warn us you were here. I’d have worn something cuter, gotten my nails done, something, anything, to mark this momentous occasion—”

“Breathe, Tiny,” Lucian cut in, amused.

She immediately let out an expansive breath and wrinkled her nose. “Shit. I am such a goober.”

Laughing, I shook her hand. “No, you’re wonderful.”

Tina grinned at that. “I’ll calm down in a second, I promise.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want to get my whip.”

Lucian grunted—the one I knew meant “Lord help me.” I shot him a side-look, but his expression remained bland. He stood fairly close, just to the right of me, but it was as though his entire body leaned toward the pool house. He wanted to escape. Badly. But he was rooted to the spot.

I felt for him. Especially when everyone took their seats, and Tina pulled out one for me, leaving an empty one next to mine for Lucian. He hesitated. These were his cousins and good friend; he might have had a chance to run off, but then Amalie came out of the house, crimson silk caftan flowing, a beaming smile on her face. And I knew Lucian’s chances of retreat were gone.

He obviously did too. With a sigh, he plopped down in the chair.

“Ah, good, you two are back.” Amalie grinned, her red mouth wide as she sat at the head of the table, a queen at court. “We can have lunch.”

This being Rosemont, no sooner had she announced this than the waitstaff arrived carrying plates. It wasn’t lost on me—or, I suspect, Lucian—that they had exactly the right amount of meals to serve all of us.

Curiosity had me wanting to see this whole strange reunion play out, but I was starving, and when the plate was set before me, bearing a personal-size quiche with a side salad of baby greens, my stomach actually rumbled.

From under his unfairly long lashes, Lucian shot me a look, the corners of his mouth twitching. He’d heard.

“I told you I was hungry,” I muttered to him.

Those expressive lips twitched again. “We’ll have to work harder at keeping you fed, bee.”

He said it so low, barely moving his mouth, that I was certain only I could hear it. But Anton was watching too closely, and his gaze darted between us. “So, Luc, you’re dating the princess. Nice move.”

My eyes narrowed.

Lucian sat back in a lazy sprawl of limbs that belied the tight warning in his voice. “Emma is a guest of Mamie’s, Ant. Remember that, will you?”

By the way Anton scowled, I doubted he liked his nickname, but before he could respond, Amalie nodded with an elegant wave of her hand.

“This is true. You boys keep Emma out of your squabbles.”

Which all but guaranteed I’d be the center of them.

I turned toward a still wide-eyed Tina. “They fight often, do they?”

Tina appeared amused but resigned. “Since they were kids. Doesn’t help that they both play center.”

“Both played,” Anton corrected, like an ass. “I am not retired. Thank Christ.”

His declaration fell like a lead ball onto the table. And my heart ached for Lucian. Even Anton seemed to realize how horrible he’d been. He grimaced, his face twisting with genuine remorse. “Shit, sorry, Luc.”

Lucian might as well have been made from granite. “No problem.”

Brommy, who had been given two quiches, leaned in and caught my eye. “Ant is just salty because we kick his ass during every playoff. Isn’t that right, Ant-Man?”

Anton smirked. “Kicked your ass last year, didn’t I, Bromide?”

“That’s because we didn’t have—shit. Sorry, Oz.” He ducked his head and shoveled a hunk of quiche in his mouth.

They didn’t have Lucian playing for them. He must have missed the last bit of the season.

Lucian suddenly snorted. “Well, this is fun.”

Brommy lifted his head and winked. “Just like old times.”

Lucian chuffed out a weak laugh and started to eat. I relaxed enough to do the same. The food was, as expected, delicious.

“What is in this quiche?” I asked, trying to hide my moan.

“Sun-dried tomatoes and gouda,” Amalie said.

“You cooking today, Mamie?” Anton asked with a sly look.

“It is a small thing to heat an oven, no?” The frost in her gaze dared him to say otherwise, and I smiled around my mouthful of food.

“So,” Tina said to me. “I know you can’t give details, but are we going to love the finale?” Her green eyes gleamed with excitement. “I cannot wait.”

Under the table, Lucian’s foot touched the side of mine. Support. In the smallest of ways, and yet it felt like everything.

“Well,” I began diplomatically. “People will certainly be talking about it; that I can guarantee.”

“Oh, I knew it!” She leaned close. “You have to tell me—what’s it like working with Macon Saint? He’s gorgeous. That body. God.”

“Hey,” Brommy cut in. “Hot-bodied men right here.”

“Oh, are there?” Tina squinted, peering around. “I’m having trouble locating them.”

“Lean in a little, sweets, and I’ll give you a guided tour.”

After making a face at Brommy, she turned back to me. “Tell me all about Saint.”

“Yes,” Lucian said, finally meeting my eyes. His were piercing and slightly evil just then. “Is he as dreamy in real life?”