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I glanced at the caller ID that came in through my car and saw it was my brother calling.
“What’s up, Mark?” I answered.
“Hey, I just flew in on business and wanted to meet you for dinner.”
I frowned. Our oldest brother, Sebastian, always spoke like he was busy being in charge of the world, and Mark had always seemed just to play along. But not right now. I could hardly recognize my brother behind his stern voice. It sounded like he flew out here to bust my ass on behalf of my father. It was strange, but I wasn’t one to ask questions.
“I’m on my way home, but if you give me an hour to shower and change, I can clean the remnants of work off me and join you at, let’s say, Harlow’s?”
“I’ve got reservations for the Harbor House in two hours. Meet me there.”
“Jesus, Mark. Is everything okay?” I asked, not a fan of my brother’s strange, clipped tone and demands.
“Everything is fine.”
“Yeah?” I urged with irritation. “Well, you sound like a dick, and while I’m usually excited to meet family when they fly out for?—”
“John,” he said, cutting me off abruptly, “just meet me at Harbor House at eight.”
He hung up the phone without another word, sending my mind in a million different directions. Who knew what his problem was? He was probably crumbling under pressure from my father, trying to prove his worth as the middle child in this family. All I knew was that I wouldn’t let it kill my vibe. The guy sold his soul to be in the upper circles, remaining a dutiful son to The Aster Family, and I didn’t.
The way my brother behaved was why I flew the coup in search of a life of my own and why I was who I was. That life changed who you were. It was a life riddled with demands from a society that defined you, and no matter how rich and high up the chain you got, it seemed to strip away your soul, happiness, and freedom.
That was never going to happen to me. I would never allow money or status in elite circles to define who I was.
Thirty minutes after I was set to meet Mark for dinner, I walked into Harbor House, an upscale restaurant that was frequented by those who danced in our family’s circle of socialites.
“At least order me a bourbon while you wait,” I teased, sitting at the table in the far corner, away from the rest of the patrons.
I’d love to say it was lovely to be in our little special corner of the room, but it wasn’t. It reminded me of how my family held themselves when they visited Los Angeles. They believed they were a world above everyone who lived here. It was almost as if being in this city insulted them, so they only came when business demanded it.
“Thirty-two minutes late?” Mark questioned, his green eyes looking at me reproachfully.
“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting, Your Royal Majesty,” I mocked, taking the bourbon I’d ordered from the waitress before I arrived at the table. “Actually, I’m not sorry,” I corrected myself. “I won’t apologize for being late to a last-minute demand after working all day and needing to change my plans.”
Mark’s expression reminded me of my father after he’d had enough of our bullshit, and it was unnerving.
“Listen, my wedding will be on the ninth of January, and I expect you’ll be there,” he said.
“I had every intention until I met this new version of you,” I said, opening my menu and finding more interest in that than the robot across the table from me.
“For once in your life, grow the fuck up,” Mark said before he turned to the waiter who’d arrived at our table. “We’ll both have the veal, medium, steamed vegetables, and roasted potatoes?—”
“Actually,” I said, eyeing the waiter, my brother, and then my menu, rapidly searching for something different than what Mark was trying to order for me, “I’ll have the chicken.”
“The chicken, sir?”
I felt the heat of Mark’s gaze on me, which only made me smile and nod. “Yes, the chicken on a bed of rice.”
“Sir,” the waiter nodded before taking our menus and walking away.
“What the hell was that, John? You’re not a dog. Chicken and rice?”
“Okay, I’ve had enough of the lectures,” I said, my patience thin. “I can order whatever I want, you know?”
“That’s the problem with you,” he answered. “You think you can do whatever you want, and all it does is fuck over the rest of us.”
“All right, what is going on with you?” I asked. This behavior was seriously unlike Mark. It wasn’t in his nature to be so icy and cold about anything. Mark was the easygoing guy who made lame jokes while trying to fit in.
