Page 43 of The Billionaire Invitation

The last time she’d seen him, he’d dropped by Dante’s college apartment. If memory served, she’d been in full-on make-out mode and about to lose her shirt. Luckily, Dante had locked the front door.

Dante’s brother hadn’t changed much over the years, save barely visible crow’s feet around his eyes that seemed to be more from the sun than aging. According to Dante, Brody had always been the adventurous one. She didn’t remember that mustache back when she’d met him, but then again, it had been a few years.

An older man was sitting across the room, cell phone in hand and typing aggressively with one crooked finger. He stood from the chair. “Dottie is on the way! To meet my first great-grandbaby!”

His cheery tone made Honesty smile. At first she’d assumed the man was Dante’s father, but not now that he’d mentioned a great-grandchild.

“Ike,” he introduced himself, cupping one hand over hers. “You’re with the serious one?” He tipped his head in Dante’s direction. “We smoked cigars here when he stopped by once. He’s a tough nut to crack.” He winked. “Although you might have an easier time with him than I did.”

“This is Reagan’s grandfather,” Brody stepped in to say. “He used to live in this house.”

“He bought it from me fair and square, and then he met my granddaughter. Those two have a unique story you should hear sometime. You know she’s a handywoman. She can fix anything.”

“Even me,” Brody said with a grin.

“Especially you.” Ike let out a hearty laugh.

It was hard not to smile. Honesty sensed the ribbon of pride running through Ike at the mention of Reagan, and even Brody.

That reminded Honesty of her own parents. She had been supported by them, and they had made sure she knew they were there for her. As she looked around the room at Jaylyn, Brody, and Dante, she wondered if they’d had the same care and support from Octavius Crane. If Dante had enrolled in college seeking stability, and then had left for LA to live with his mom in search of meaning, how much could Octavius have been there for any of them?

Brody laughed, which drew Dante’s attention. For a moment, his expression softened before shuttering again. It was like showing affection wasn’t the norm for him—like he’d chosen a more practiced, neutral reaction in emotional situations.

Maybe Octavius Crane being absent over the years had taught Dante to be careful. O was suspiciously absent now, which made her wonder if his children had become accustomed to leaning on each other instead of him.

She couldn’t imagine.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Brody offered her. “Dante, beer?”

“Water is fine,” Dante answered. “Honesty, have a glass of wine. I’m driving.”

“Do you have rosé, per chance?” she asked Brody.

“That we do.”

She followed him into the kitchen where he poured a glass of pink wine into a stemless glass. She took a sip of the tart, fruity liquid and felt her shoulders instantly drop. She’d been more nervous than she’d acknowledged during her meeting with Eli. Having a glass of wine at lunch had been out of the question—who knew what she might have said once she’d relaxed into that glass.

“How is Reagan doing? And congratulations, by the way. Is this your first child?”

“First. Only.” He pulled a beer from the refrigerator and popped off the cap. “I was just coming here to write a book, you know? Didn’t plan on staying.”

“You’re an author?”

“You don’t read The New York Times, I take it.”

“Humble brag.”

“Not that humble,” he said with a smile. “I write memoirs. First one hit. Next one is out in a month. Probably going to coincide with our wedding. Think she’ll agree to go on the road with me for the book tour? Marry on the road, show our daughter the sights?” He might have been pretending to joke, but Honesty watched his eyes light up as he spoke about traveling with them.

“You never know,” she said.

“It’s funny that I met you before I was…me. I mean, this version of me.” He observed her silently for a moment. She wondered if he was thinking about an idea for a third book.

“I wasn’t this version of me, either. I was speaking with Eli and Isa Crane about my nonprofit. I’ll be partnering with Refurbs for Vets to bring nutrition training to veterans. That definitely wasn’t my plan when I was at Northwestern.”

“Eli is a good guy to bet on.”

“So is Dante,” she couldn’t help saying. Without him there’d be no grant, no introduction—nothing. She owed him a lot and he’d been in town less than a week.