“Yeah, I guess we don’t,” I agreed—though I knew that this was the one thing we definitelyshouldhave decided beforehand. Still, I didn’t have the energy (or the will) to argue about it at the moment. Especially since the next thing on our list was going to take a lot of it.
“News about our engagement is already spreading,” I told Ford. “Which means I have to tell my brothers. Tonight.”
He nodded. “I figured. Should I come with you?”
I shook my head. “I can do it myself,” I told him. “It’ll be safer this way.”
Just in case one of them got punch-y.
Emzee
Chapter 13
Before my father had gone to prison, our rare Zoric family dinners had always been tense and awkward. My father liked maintaining the illusion of a big, happy, united family, but when it came down to it, our actual happiness mattered zilch to him. All he ever cared about was power and money and optics, and us kids were only useful to him as one more means to that end. We weren’t emotionally close to him, but he liked to keep us physically close. He had expectations that we’d show up for various events and meetings to make him look good. I’d hated it.
Now that he was out of the picture and both of my brothers were in solid marriages with babies on the way, our family dinners were more frequent and less horribly uncomfortable.
That had a lot to do with Tori, who loved hosting us at the gorgeous luxury condo she and Stefan lived in. The apartment itself had even become more welcoming since their marriage had solidified. Before, it had been all dark masculine furniture and starkly modern, almost bare rooms. But Tori had put up family photos, switched out the heavy curtains for airy linen ones, even painted some of the walls in soothing shades of blue. Now, it felt more like a home.
I could really appreciate it.
I didn’t know all the details about Tori’s life before Stefan, but I’d gathered that her senator father (may he rest in peace) had been a lot like ours; concerned more with appearances than the actual well-being of his children. Tori had a stepmother named Michelle, though—a true southern belle who was loving and kind and had tried to make their house a home—and Tori seemed determined to do the same for us Zoric siblings. My sister-in-law was going to be an amazing mom. We certainly all benefited from having her around.
I used my key to let myself in, and immediately heard voices coming from the kitchen.
“The party has arrived!” I announced, heading toward the noise.
Tori and Brooklyn greeted me warmly. I got a hug and a kiss from both of them, though Tori’s huge, pregnant belly got a bit in the way of the hug.
“You look amazing,” I told her with a grin. “Are you getting excited about the delivery?”
She laughed. “I just want this baby out of me. I’m more than ready for it.”
“And I’m ready to hear all your advice,” Brooklyn chimed in. “I know I’m barely showing, but I feel like I’ve been knocked up for a million years.”
“Your morning sickness still acting up?” I asked.
Brooklyn gave a shudder. “It’s the fucking worst, I swear. I miss being able to keep down my breakfast. Speaking of food…”
Apparently they’d been deep in discussion about the scalloped potato recipe being served for dinner. I could smell the dreamy, cheesy, buttery goodness cooking in the oven.
“I just don’t get why mine always turn rock hard,” Brooklyn said. “Or else the milk curdles. I’ve basically given up at this point, even though I love them.”
“Three things,” Tori said, holding up her fingers. “One: Yukon Gold potatoes only. You can’t be using red skinned or anything like that.”
“The recipe specifically said red skin!” Brooklyn said. “It’s a conspiracy!”
Grinning, Tori said, “Trust me. Yukon only. Two: you have to slice with a mandoline. No knife is ever going to cut them thin enough, that’s a fact. And three: you must use whole milk, or even fifty-fifty milk and cream. These are the great secrets, directly from Michelle.”
“I’m ready to follow your ways, Tori-wan,” Brooklyn joked, crouching down to peek at the dish bubbling away in the oven. “They look amazing.”
“Actually, if potatoes is the only thing baby wants you to eat, I’ve got another Michelle recipe tucked into one of my books around here somewhere,” Tori said, turning to rummage through a stack of cookbooks on a shelf.
Through the kitchen doorway, I saw my brothers in the living room, congregating by the bar. Stefan caught my eye and jerked his chin, indicating that I should join them for a mini-meeting while The Wives were distracted. I politely excused myself from the potato discussion and headed toward Stefan. He was pouring out glasses of scotch, muttering as he did so. He and Luka both looked tense. My stomach dropped. This couldn’t be good.
Stefan slid a drink over to me, and we all took a somber sip before anyone spoke.
“The Bratva would like their money,” Stefan said. “And soon.”
