Amani turned to his mother, who did not look remotely ashamed. "Mom. I'm twenty years old."
"And I'm your mother. Eat your frittata."
He ate his frittata. It was excellent, because everything Lady Leo did was excellent, including the things that drove him out of his mind. The eggs were perfectly set, the vegetables precisely diced, the cheese melted in a way that suggested she'd watched a YouTube tutorial and then improved upon it through sheer force of will.
The conversation drifted to club business, which was the other thing that always happened at brunch. Bethany wanted to start learning more about the financial side. She'd been working the front desk for two years and was ready for more responsibility. Lady Leo listened to her pitch with the expression of a woman who had already decided what she thought but wanted to see how well her daughter could argue. Amani ate and watched them volley back and forth, enjoying the show.
"What do you think?" Bethany turned to him suddenly, looking for an ally.
"I think you'd be great at it." He meant it. Bethany was sharp, organized, and had inherited their mother's ability to stare down anyone who tried to shortchange her. "But I also think Mom's going to make you earn it regardless of what I say, so I'm staying out of it."
"Coward."
"Survivor." He winked. "I know which battles to fight in this family."
Lady Leo set down her fork with a small, satisfied sound. "We'll discuss it Monday at the office, Bethany. Bring numbers, not feelings."
Bethany's face lit up. That was as close to a yes as Lady Leo gave without a contract in front of her. Bethany kicked Amani under the table again, this time in excitement, and he kicked her back because he wasn't going to let her have the last word in any language, including foot.
After brunch, they cleared the table together, another Leo household tradition that Amani suspected existed solely so his mother could continue conversations while his hands were too full of dishes to escape. Lady Leo washed. Bethany dried. Amani put things away, because he was the tallest and could reach the top shelves without a step stool, a fact Bethany had never forgiven him for.
"Any prospects?" Lady Leo asked, her hands in the soapy water, her tone perfectly casual in the way that meant it was anything but.
Amani knew what she was asking. She asked some version of it every week. "Not at the moment."
"There was a wolf in last night," Bethany offered helpfully. "New member. Big. Kind of intense. I saw him talking to you at the bar."
"He was ordering a drink. That's literally my job."
"He was flirting with you. I can tell from the video feed." Bethany gave him a look. "You turned him down, didn't you."
"I told him to come back next Friday."
"Which is your way of turning him down without saying no so he keeps coming back and buying drinks." Bethany shook her head. "You're going to die alone behind that bar."
"With excellent taste in whiskey and no regrets."
Lady Leo handed Bethany a plate without turning around. "What species was the wolf?"
"Timber, I think. Big, like Beth said."
"And you weren't interested."
Amani sighed. This was the part of the conversation he never enjoyed, because the truth was complicated and his family made it simple. "I told you. I'm particular. I want what I want."
"What you want…" Bethany set the plate in the drying rack with a pointed clink, "is a big predator who looks impressive enough to match your ego, which eliminates about ninetypercent of the shifter population and a hundred percent of anyone who might actually be good for you."
"That's not—"
"It's exactly what it is." Bethany turned to face him. She was shorter than him by several inches but she had their mother's stare and used it with the same devastating precision. "You won't even look at anyone who isn't a cat, a bear, or a wolf. You dismissed that fox tonight before he'd been in the building for five minutes."
"The fox was nervous. He wasn't there to play."
"Maybe not. But you didn't even consider him, did you? Not for a second. Because he's a fox, and foxes aren't big enough or predatory enough for whatever fantasy you've built in your head about what a real Dom looks like."
Amani opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. She wasn't entirely wrong. She also wasn't entirely right. "It's a preference, Beth. Everyone has them."
"Preferences are flexible. Yours is a wall."
