you’re doing,” he said with the devastating smile that made my heart flip. “You have to face them some time. Do you really want to do it by yourself, or would you like me next to you?”
“Of course I’d like you next to me. Always. But . . .” I hesitated.
“But what?”
I dropped my head, staring at the floor. “But you think this is funny. I can already hear the jokes.”
“Hmm . . . yeah, I’m not the least bit ashamed of what I can do to you.” He lifted my chin with his fingers, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. Then his hand trailed down my neck, between my breasts, along my stomach . . . and lower. I shuddered. He smiled proudly. “So I guess I’ll go down by myself, and we can all have our laughs without you.”
He kissed me and winked, then turned and walked out the door. I stared after him in a daze, and when the fog cleared, I hurried after him.
“Don’t forget I can do the same to you,” I said when I caught up to him.
He chuckled. “Trust me, I’ll never forget. And I’m not ashamed of it, either. But I do promise to behave.”
He took my hand, his touch automatically calming me, but right before we entered the dining room, I stepped behind him.
“Dad!” Dorian bounded from his chair at the table and leapt into Tristan’s arms. “I’ve been waiting forever for you to wake up!”
He threw his arms around Tristan’s neck in a tight hug.
“Guess I don’t count for anything anymore,” I said with mocked pain.
He peeked over Tristan’s shoulder with the same hazel eyes as his father’s. “Hey, Mom. I missed you, too.”
“Sure you did.” I ruffled his blond hair. I didn’t blame him for his enthusiasm for Tristan—yesterday was the first time they’d ever met, and they had a lot of catching up to do.
Rina, Mom, and Owen sat at the table, coffee mugs and breakfast plates in front of them, their conversation we’d heard from the hallway suddenly silent. I barely glanced their way, just in time to see Owen turning his head and dropping his sapphire eyes, his face as pink as the half-eaten grapefruit on his plate. The image of the rising sheet popped into my mind, and my face heated, probably turning darker than Owen’s. I studied the tablecloth, wondering if anyone would notice if I crawled underneath it and stayed there the rest of my life. Or at least until Owen left. How can I ever face him again?
As soon as Tristan and I sat down, a woman who looked as old as the ancient mansion came through a door with a tray of coffee, mugs, and condiments. She placed everything in front of us, and I reached for the coffee pot, but she grabbed it first, pouring our coffee for us. I wasn’t used to this.
“Alexis, this is Ophelia,” Rina said with her Italian accent. She was over a century-and-a-half old, but Rina appeared to be in her late twenties, not much older than Mom looked. Her wide, mahogany eyes, nearly identical to mine and Mom’s, warmed with appreciation as she regarded the elderly woman. “She has served the Amadis for over two-hundred years, since the days of my great-grandmother’s rule. Ophelia, I’d like you to meet our Alexis.”
Ophelia dipped into a curtsy. I definitely wasn’t used to that.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Alexis,” she said, her voice soft and smoother than I expected, compared to her severely creased face. She turned to Tristan. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Tristan. It has been a long time.”
Ophelia returned her attention to me, her gray eyes surprisingly clear behind the many folds of her eyelids. Doing the math, I realized she was nearly the same age as Tristan. Ew. That thought’s . . . discomforting. I banished it immediately.
“What would you like for breakfast, dear?” she asked me.
“What are my choices?”
She smiled. “Anything you’d like, Ms. Alexis.”
“Anything?” I asked with surprise. “Chocolate croissants? And strawberries?”
She curtsied again. “Certainly. Mr. Tristan?”
I stared at him as he rattled off a list of eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits, and practically every other breakfast item known to mankind.
“I told you I was starving,” he said once Ophelia disappeared.
“I thought we were in a hurry,” I muttered. “It’ll take forever for her to cook all that.”
But as soon as I said the last word, Ophelia came through the door again, another tray on her arm. I wondered if