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Luc threw his head back and roared with laughter, the sound going straight to my core. He had an amazing laugh, one he’d shared sparingly at first, but seemed to do more often lately. I’d also noticed the shadows behind his eyes had retreated somewhat, their appearance almost nonexistent.
“Excuse me, Miss Daubson. Your father is waiting.”
I hadn’t noticed the doorman’s approach until he spoke. Our time was up.
“We’ve been summoned.” Luc’s expression hardened in an instant.
“Yup,” I replied.
He reached out, taking my hand. “Let’s do this.”
*****
“EMORY, DARLING, WHATan interesting choice in travel wear.”
Not even a, “Hello, it’s so good to see you.” Nope. My mother zeroed in on the jeans and sweatshirt I’d chosen in order to be comfortable during the two-hour car ride to the airport from Mountain Grove, then the hour and a half flight to New York.
I could practically feel the fumes of indignation wafting off of Luc from where he stood next to me, even though I’d warned him multiple times how the reunion would go. He looked as if he was ready to intervene on my behalf until Gigi beat him to it.
“You shouldn’t frown so much, Martha.” She shouldered her way past us to stand in front of her daughter. “You’ll get wrinkles. Then again, I’ll bet your plastic surgeon appreciates the business.”
“Mother. How lovely.”
The two of them held a sort of stand-off as I looked around the lavish space I’d once called home. It hadn’t changed much in the ten plus years since I’d been there. Still dripping in all the wealth the almighty dollar could buy.
Gleaming walls, my mother had repainted every two years to uphold their color, matched the white oak flooring throughout. A baby grand piano sat in the center of the living room, surrounded by three floor-to-ceiling windows with impeccable views of the New York skyline.
“Emory.” My father’s voice echoed through the vast space.
Luc’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me into his side, as my father and Joel descended the staircase. They were likely coming from his office on the second floor.
“Hello, Dad,” I replied.
Without any further acknowledgment, his eyes cut to Luc as he approached. He held out his hand and plastered on what I’d come to know as his fake politician smile.
“Anthony Daubson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Senator.” He removed his arm from around me in order to grasp the proffered hand. “I’m Luciano del Toro.”
“I’ve heard many good things about you, Luciano,” he continued. “Actually, if you have a few minutes after dinner, I’d like a moment of your time.”
“Of course.”
I stiffened when my father shifted his attention toward me. We’d never had a close relationship, or any relationship really, beyond tolerating each other’s presence.
“Daughter. Thank you for coming.”
He placed his hands on my shoulders, drawing me in for an awkward hug before kissing my cheek.
What in the fresh hell was going on?
Searching the recesses of my mind, I couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever initiated any sort of physical contact between us. Maybe as a small child, but certainly not in recent years.
“Ah, Imogene.” He moved across the room, leaving me frozen in shock. “I’m so glad you were able to make it.”
“What the fuck?” I whispered.
“I take it this isn’t normal behavior?” Luc spoke softly in my ear.
