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“It took me ages to decide which dress to wear.”
“You made the right choice.”
“They are all lovely outfits. Ebony has great taste. I’m just not used to looking this posh, I guess.”
She opened her purse and brought out her rolled-up script. “I’ve been learning my lines.”
Ethan grimaced. He’d barely looked at his, too worried that the words would spark more inappropriate fantasies. He had to face it; at heart he was a total romantic. He had his mom’s nature in that respect. She’d adored his father. And like her, Ethan believed in one love for life. Oh sure, he’d dated, frequently. He’d had plenty of sex—unsurprisingly, there was no shortage of species queuing up to ride dragon cock—and he prided himself on knowing how to satisfy a woman.
He was a fucking good lover. He knew that.
But love… that was a different game altogether. One that had eluded him.
Until now.
Stop these romantic notions, Blade.
His palms were sweating as he picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. He could barely look at her for fear his eyes would give him away. Brusquely, he waved to his staff member to take her order. “Tea, for you Min?”
“Yes please, a pot of English breakfast would be lovely.”
While they waited, Ethan picked up his script and glanced at his lines, then it down and promptly forgot what he’d just read. “So, um, remind me where we met?”
“When you came in the Westerly looking for a book, one your brother couldn’t get for the course he was starting at Motham College.”
“Gods above, why did Ebony put Beau in the mix?” he grumbled. “Surely he’d go get his own bloody books.”
“Maybe she wanted you to look like a caring brother.”
He huffed. “After last’s night performance? Yeah, sure.”
“Will he show his face today, do you think?”
“He has classes, I’m crossing my fingers that he gets to them.”
“I hope I’ll meet him in more pleasant circumstances soon.”
“When he’s not torching the garden at two in the morning? Good luck with that.”
She eyed him solemnly. “There does appear to be a bit of tension between you two.”
“A bit. Understatement.” He sighed. “Things have been bad between us for a few years now. Beau was fourteen when Dad died—a really bad age to lose your father. Well, no age is good, I guess. Mom was in deep grief, and you know, I wasn’t the best, trying to get my head around the company and how to run it. I had little time for him, I’ll admit. That’s when things really went off the rails…”
He paused as the waiter delivered warm croissants, a pot of tea and refilled his coffee cup. “He got involved with a gang of damaged twilight dragons. He had a major chip regarding our shifting, or lack of it, and I guess he thought if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
“Are those the dragons out in the Wasteland?”
“Yeah. Real trouble, that species. It took a lot to get him out of that. We sent him away to school over the mountains for a while, but he’s been back now for a year at college. So far, thankfully he’s stayed away from the gangs, but he hangs out with a lot of rich young college kids from Motham Hill who have more money than sense.”
“It sounds like he’s still not happy.”
“He’s restless, and I don’t know why. Honestly, I don’t know how to help him.” Ethan sighed heavily. “I’ve thrown money at the problem, given him the best education, but it’s never enough. Managed to get him into the top aviation course at Motham College, even though his grades were terrible, but he’d rather just party”
“Maybe aviation isn’t the right subject for him.”
“Aviation is what Blades do. End of story.”
“But what if that’s not Beau’s story?”
