Page 25 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"I imagine you understand that. The satisfaction of a campaign well executed."

"I do." Our eyes hold, and something passes between us. Recognition, maybe. Two people who understand ambition and drive.

Miles returns to the table, sliding into his seat.

"Sorry. That was my editor. The corruption story is getting more complicated."

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Fine. Just work." He picks up his fork, barely glancing at his untouched appetizer.

Barbara leans over.

"Miles, dear, you've barely eaten. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, Mom." He takes a bite to appease her, but I can see the tension in his jaw.

The main course arrives—pasta for most of the table, chicken for a few others. Conversation continues, but I find myself hyperaware of Dax's presence. The way he listens when people speak, the careful way he chooses his words, the intensity of his focus when it lands on me.

"Scarlett," he says during a lull in conversation, "Miles tells me you went to Northwestern."

"I did. Undergrad in communications."

"That's where you met your friends–Jane and Sarah?"

"Freshman year. We were randomly assigned as roommates and somehow became inseparable." I glance over at my friends, who are deep in conversation with Miles's groomsmen.

"They're the sisters I never had."

"It's good to have people like that. People you can count on." There's something wistful in his tone.

"Do you have close friends in New York?"

"A few. My COO Mark has been my best friend since Harvard. We've been through a lot together." He cuts into his pasta.

"Though most of my relationships are professional these days. Occupational hazard of the job."

"That sounds lonely."

The words slip out before I can stop them. I immediately regret the intimacy of the observation.

His eyes meet mine. "Sometimes it is."

The honesty catches me off guard. This man who seems so controlled, so perfectly composed, admitting to loneliness.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

"That was too personal."

"No." He shakes his head.

"It was honest. I appreciate honesty."

Miles's phone buzzes again. He checks it under the table, types a response, sets it down. Then picks it up thirty seconds later to check again.

Barbara notices too.

"Miles, perhaps you should put your phone away? It's your rehearsal dinner."