“You go to Paris every spring,” Lucian said, his expression ever deadpan.

“Hush, you.” She sniffed, as if offended, but we all knew she wasn’t. “I am going to live in Paris permanently. My time here is over. New memories must be made.”

The woman was seventy-five years old, and still she took life by the reins and guided it wherever she pleased. That was what I wanted: to have Amalie’s fearlessness, her lust for life.

“Are you going to sell Rosemont?” Lucian couldn’t quite hide the fear in his voice. I didn’t blame him. This was his refuge and his childhood all rolled into one.

“Of course she’s not,” Tina said, with a slightly annoyed glance at him. “She’s going to give it to you.”

“Me?”

Anton snorted. “You act surprised.”

Lucian’s gaze narrowed and froze. “Because I am. I have no greater claim on this place than any of you.”

“Oh, please. You’re her favorite.”

“If you’re not, Ant, that’s only because you’re an ass—”

Amalie clapped her hands once. “Hush. All of you.” She glared at each of them in turn. “Of course I am not selling, Lucian. How ridiculous. And you two. How dare you suggest I’d show that sort of favoritism?”

Tina winced. “Apologies, Mamie. It’s only that Lucian lived here with you as a kid, and he’s been fixing it up.”

Anton simply grunted.

Amalie took a slow sip of her wine before continuing. “I will, of course, visit Rosemont now and then, but I am leaving the property to the four of you in equal partnership.”

“Four?” Anton blinked in confusion.

Amalie quirked a brow. “You, Lucian, Tina, and Salvador.”

Sal made a choking sound, his copper skin turning dark bronze. “Amalie . . . you . . . I . . .”

“You are like a grandson to me, my dear,” she said with steel in her voice and kindness in her eyes. “And I shall not take no for an answer.”

The threat that she’d fight any of her actual grandchildren who objected was also clear as a bell.

Sal sat back with a strangled gasp, now pasty and sweating.

Lucian flashed him a wide, amused smile. “Face it, Sallie—you’re officially one of us now.”

“Puta . . .”

Tina reached over to pat his hands. “Mamie is right. We love you, Sal.”

Anton merely shrugged. “You’re as much a part of Rosemont as Mamie is.” He turned to his grandmother. “Thing is, Mamie, I can’t be here to take care of this place. You might as well—”

She quelled him with a look. “Now then. I do not expect any of you to live here year-round, although, if that is your choice, you certainly may. Either way, there is a trust in place to take care of maintenance and the taxes.”

Lucian and Anton exchanged a look. I knew Lucian well enough to understand that neither man would dip into those funds to pay for Rosemont. They were both wealthy enough to take care of the place themselves. As for Tina, I had no idea what she would do. But she immediately brightened.

“I’d like to live here.” She turned to Lucian and Sal. “If that’s okay with you two.”

Lucian’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Sweetheart, you heard Mamie; it’s as much your place as it is mine.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been living here for a while. I don’t want to step on your toes.”

“You asking me?” Sal laughed faintly. “I’m still trying to pinch myself.”

“Here, let me help.” Lucian made as if to pinch Sal and was promptly swatted away. Lucian chuckled, but it quickly died down, and he shifted in his seat. “Thing is, I’m not going to be at Rosemont for a while.”

“Oh?” Amalie sent a knowing glance my way, as if she’d been expecting this. I wanted to crawl under the table. She was oh-so wrong. “Do tell, Titou.”

Lucian cleared his throat, took a sip of iced tea, then cleared his throat again. “I’ve been asked by the Caps to come in and see about playing for them again.”

It was as if a bomb had gone off, and the table exploded.

“Are you fucking insane?”

“Luc, no!”

“Madre de dios.”

“Non! Non, non, non!” Amalie emphasized each no with a smack to the table. Tears swarmed in her eyes. “You cannot, Titou. You cannot.”

Lucian thrust his chin up and out in that dogged, determined way of his. “Mamie, I can.”

Her eyes flashed. “Just because you can does not mean you should.”

“Nothing is set in stone. They want to see how I do, and I’ll get to see how I feel back on the ice.”

“You promised me, Lucian.” Her voice cracked at his name, and she glanced away.

“I know.” Lucian’s jaw worked. “But I have to do this for myself. Not for you or anyone else.”

I cringed when they turned their outraged glances on me.

“Don’t look at Emma like that,” Lucian said in a hard tone. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

That hurt more than I expected, and I ducked my head, my fingers twisting in the linen napkin on my lap.

“I will not be party to this,” Amalie said, rising. Her voice shook as she glared at her stubborn, proud grandson. “I love you with all my heart, but I will not watch you destroy yourself.”

She walked away, and I saw something crack in Lucian’s eyes. But he didn’t try to stop her. I understood then that Lucian would never beg for affection or understanding. He didn’t know how.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Lucian

My news went over about as well as I’d expected it to, which was to say spectacularly badly. Even after expecting the reaction I got, it hurt. My chest felt like it was caving in; my stomach twisted and burned.

One by one, they left me at the table, their bitter disappointment clear and cutting. All of them except Emma. She sat quietly at my side even now, her slim shoulders slumped.

“Well,” I said. “That was some shit.”

She didn’t say anything for so long I thought she might have been ignoring me, but then she swallowed audibly and lifted her head. Her indigo eyes were filled with sorrow. “What did you expect?”