Page 22 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"I can't believe it either."

"Where is Miles?" she asks, glancing around.

"I haven't seen him yet. He texted earlier that he was running a few minutes late."

As if on cue, Miles walks into the private dining room. He's wearing a dark suit, his tie slightly crooked. His hair is messy, and his eyes are a bit unfocused. Has he been drinking already?

"Sorry, sorry." He makes his way to me, kissing me quickly. "Traffic was terrible."

"You okay?" I whisper.

"Fine. Just a long day." He turns to his mother, hugging her.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hello, darling." Barbara studies him with concern.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm great. Really." He pulls out his phone, checks the screen, frowns, then pockets it again.

I'm about to ask him what's wrong when the energy in the room shifts. Someone new has walked in. I turn toward the entrance and my breath catches.

A man stands in the doorway, and the entire room seems to orient itself around him. He's tall—well over six feet—towering, with a commanding presence that draws every eye. His suit is perfectly tailored charcoal gray, fitted to emphasize broad shoulders and a lean, but muscular and powerful frame. Salt and pepper hair is styled back from his face, and even from across the room, I can see the piercing blue of his eyes.

This is Dax Blackwell.

He moves into the space with quiet confidence, scanning the room until his gaze lands on Miles. And then, briefly, on me.

The eye contact lasts only a second, but I feel it like a physical touch.

"Dax!" Miles calls out, waving him over.

"Come meet Scarlett."

Dax approaches, and I'm struck by how different he is from Miles. Where Miles is boyish and approachable, Dax is sharp and controlled. Where Miles is casual, Dax is precise. They're both handsome, but in completely different ways.

"Scarlett," Miles says, slipping his arm around my waist, "this is my brother Dax. Dax, my fiancée Scarlett."

Dax extends his hand. "It's a pleasure tofinally meet you."

His voice is deep, measured, each word deliberate. I take his hand, and the moment our palms touch, something electric shoots up my arm. His grip is firm, warm, his fingers wrapping around mine with controlled strength.

"You too," I manage, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.

"Miles has told me about you."

"Has he?" A hint of amusement flickers in those blue eyes.

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course." I withdraw my hand, though part of me doesn't want to.

"It's nice to finally put a face to the name."

He's still looking at me, his gaze intense but not uncomfortable. It's like he's reading me, cataloging details, seeing more than I want him to see.

"These are my best friends," I say, gesturing to Jane and Sarah hovering nearby.