Enemies-to-Bliss - Abby Brooks

Chapter One

Lilah

Caterers laid out food on marble countertops. Maids flitted around in a flurry of feather dusters. And Lilah Moore stood in the middle of it all, annoyed that she couldn’t trust people to just do their damn jobs. She should have known better than to believe she could leave the help alone. Life never skipped a chance to remind her that if she wanted something done right, she would end up having to do it herself.

What was so hard about following a simple set of instructions to prepare her house for a party that night?

Apparently everything.

She’d even had to tell the girl at the salon how to do her nails properly. Nail polish belonged on the fingernail. How difficult was that?

Apparently very.

At least her hair had turned out well—the only easy thing about the whole day. Antoine was a genius and that was all there was to it. He’d blown out Lilah’s long, blonde hair and managed to make perfectly wonderful waves that looped their way down her back without looking like she spent the better part of her morning at the stylist.

Which she had, of course.

Such was the genius of Antoine.

If she could just get the caterers and maids in line, she might actually have a decent party. And, as everyone knew, a decent party in Lilah’s estimation was actually a fucking fantastic party. Which was exactly what her three older brothers deserved. A fucking fantastic party.

Life had been clicking into place for each of them. Ian was married. Harry was getting married. And James was about to become a father. Which left Lilah as the last unattached Moore—a status that was fine with her. Finding a decent match was more challenging for her than it was for her brothers. Lilah had standards. She wouldn't settle for just anyone. She was fine to wait until she found someone who would treat her the way she deserved to be treated. Someone who could provide the lifestyle she was accustomed to.

Finally, after all the flower arrangements were in just the right place, after every pillow had been fluffed and straightened at least twice, after the food lining the counters looked just as mouth-watering as it smelled, Lilah shooed the help from her house. Then she wandered around, checking and double checking that everything was exactly as it needed to be.

Ever the punctual first-born, Ian arrived first with his new wife, Juliet, clinging to his arm as if he were her life raft. Next came Harry, accompanied by his fiancé, Willow, looking perfectly waifish and wide-eyed as she took in Lilah’s home. Finally, in sauntered James—late as usual—with his very pregnant girlfriend, Ellie, waddling in after him.

Lilah was in tip-top, positively perfect form, ushering people to the chairs she’d arranged specifically for each person in the living room. Not that they knew she had a seating arrangement in her head. God, no. James would never let her live that down. But just because she didn’t tell anyone there was a plan didn’t mean she hadn’t made one. She understood the ebb and flow of socializing, and the need for the perfect arrangement of, well, everything, to make a gathering go well.

After exactly twenty minutes of conversation, Lilah was back up, ushering everyone out of the living room and into the dining room for dinner and—thank God—the food tasted just as delicious as it looked. Which was only appropriate, considering how much it all cost.

As dinner wound down, Lilah held up her drink and waited for all eyes to focus on her. “Thank you all for coming...” She smiled and squared her shoulders. “I’m just so happy for my brothers. Good, strong men who have taken such good care of me. Sometimes too good…” She paused, waiting for the light laughter she expected.

“We wouldn’t have to take such good care of you if you didn’t make such bad choices with boyfriends.” James leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “I mean, we’re the reason you made it through high school without getting your heart broken.

“Or, you know, actually falling in love.” Lilah shrugged, still mildly annoyed with her overprotective brothers and the bossy gene that came with being a Moore. “Six of one, half dozen of the other, really.”

“Here we go again.” Ian rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, running a hand through his dark hair. “Come on, Lilah. You were crazy in love with Braydon Fletcher.”

She hit him with her most condescending look. “I might have been,