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Her explanation seems like she’s making sure I know they’re too rich for the location. Even though this is the most lavish mansion I’ve ever been in. Not that there have been many, but I had some wealthy friends growing up.
When I see where we’re being led I figure she’s likely given me a heads up so that I’ll realize who I’m dealing with. I see Grace is studying me as I take it all in. We’re in a gorgeous, sundrenched room of people seated at a massive table surrounded by tuxedo-wearing staff.
All eyes swing to us, and everyone rises except for the woman at the foot of the table.
“Hello, family!” Grace greets loudly.
“It’s eleven ten,” the woman who is obviously Mrs. Steele, at the foot of the table, states.
“Happy Anniversary, Maman!” Grace adds in a fake French accent.
Her mother smiles, but it’s tight.
The man at the head of the table steps up and embraces Grace. “Look who’s here. Our littlest princess.” He kisses her, warmth in his eyes, and then those eyes move to land on me. “Derek. This must be the young lady everyone is buzzing about.”
He’s inquired about me to Derek without making eye contact with him. An unpleasant shiver runs up my spine for some reason.
“Everyone, this is Chloe Turner,” Derek announces. He’s still wearing sunglasses, but they’ve transitioned in this space so they’re not quite as dark but still dark enough that I can’t see his eyes to try to gauge his actual expression.
My gaze skims across multiple sets of curious eyes. Some of them dark like Derek’s, some of them steel gray like Grace.
“Chloe, my father, Michael Steele.”
The man reaches out and shakes my hand as the rest of the table other than Derek’s mother move to take turns greeting me.
“Lovely to meet you, Chloe,” Mr. Steele says, eyes looking me over with scrutiny. He’s a handsome man in, I’m guessing, his early sixties. He’s tall, looks fit, and is well-dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit with a gray and red tie. He’s graying at the temples and has dark hair and dark eyes. A chiseled jawline. Derek takes after him in a big way.
“Thank you,” I say.
He kisses my hand and gives me a smile, but it’s not disarming at all. Maybe because his eyes are the same as Derek’s though nowhere near as warm.
“Elijah, my oldest brother,” Derek continues.
And another younger, carbon copy of Michael Steele but with gray eyes steps forward and abruptly pulls me into an embrace.
“All my brothers are flirts,” Grace warns, stage-whispering. “Except for Derek.”
Elijah Steele lifts me up a few inches and then sets me down with a deep chuckle before his eyes travel my face.
But those eyes also look cold.
“How are you, Chloe?” he asks.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, not quite ready to tell anyone how I am.
Elijah’s eyes meet Derek’s.
“Derek.”
“Eli.”
Elijah looks him over with a slight frown. “We must talk.”
“Mm hm,” Derek mutters.
My eyes bounce between them, but Grace breaks awkward silence by announcing, “This is Jonah.”
Eli moves out of the way.
