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Of course, Gervais had seen to every detail. And in record time. He called in all the staff and security. Arranged what looked like a small state dinner in record time. He even had nannies brought in for her nieces.
Beignets, fruit and pralines were decadently arranged into shapes and designed. It looked almost too beautiful to eat. Erika watched as her sisters loaded their plates with the pastries and fruit, but they eyed the pralines with distrust. They weren’t an open-minded bunch. They preferred to stick to what they knew. Which was also probably why they skipped over the iced tea and went straight for the coffee. That was familiar.
“Mother—” the word tumbled out of Erika’s mouth “—some advance notice of your visit would have been nice.”
“And give you the opportunity to make excuses to put us off? I think not.”
Sighing unabashedly, Erika trudged on. “I was not putting you off, Mother. I was simply...”
“Avoiding us all,” Helga finished for her as she approached. The rest of the Mitras women a step behind her.
“Hardly. I wanted time to prepare for your visit and to ensure that every detail was properly attended to.”
Helga gave a wave to the spread of food and raised her brow. She clearly didn’t believe Erika’s protest. “This place is amazing. You landed well, sister.”
“I am only visiting and getting things in order for our babies’ sake.” Erika’s words were clipped, her emotions much more of a tangle.
“Well, you most certainly have something in common. Relationships have been built on less. I say go for it. Chase that man down until he proposes.” The last word felt like nails on a chalkboard in Erika’s ears. She schooled her features neutral, just as she had done when she was a translator. No emotions walked across her face.
Erika stayed diplomatically quiet.
Her mother’s delicately arched eyebrow lifted, and she set her bone china coffee cup down with a slow and careful air. “He has already proposed? You two are getting married?”
“No, I did not say we are getting married.”
“But he has proposed,” Hilda pressed gently.
“Stop. This is why I would have preferred you wait to meet him. Give Gervais and me a chance to work out the details of our lives without family interference, and then we will share our plan.”
Liv waggled her fingers toward the French doors leading to the vast patio. “His family is here.”
“And they are not pushy,” Erika retorted with conviction. She wasn’t backing down from this. Not a chance.
“We are not pushy, either. We just want what is best for you.” Hilda’s porcelain complexion turned ruddy, eyes widening with hurt and frustration like during their childhood whenever people laughed at her lisp. She always had been the most sensitive of the lot.
Smoothing her green dress, Liv—always the prettiest, and the most rebellious, the infamous sex tape being the least of her escapades—took a deep breath and touched her hair. “I think all of this travel has made me a bit weary. I shall rest and we will talk later.”
And with that her mother, Liv, Helga and Hilda all left the grand living room, heels clacking against the ground.
But Astrid didn’t leave. She hung back, eyes fixed on Erika.
Anger burned in Erika’s belly. Astrid was her oldest sister. The one who always told her what to do. She had been the sister to lecture her as a child. Erika fully anticipated some version of that pseudo-parental “advice” to spill out of Astrid’s lips.
“Keep standing up for yourself. You are doing the right thing.”
Gaping, Erika steadied herself on the back of the tapestry sofa. “Seriously? I appreciate the support but I have to say it would be nice to have with Mother present.”
Astrid shrugged. “She is frightening and strong willed. We all know that. But you do understand, you are strong, too. That is why we pushed you off the balcony first.”
“Wow, thanks,” Erika grumbled, recalling the terrifying drop from balcony to homemade trampoline.
“You are welcome.” Astrid closed her in a tight embrace. In a half whisper, she added, “I love you, sister.”
“I love you, too.” That much of life was simple.
If only the other relationships—her relationship with Gervais—could be as easily understood. Or maybe they could. Perhaps the time had come to stop fighting her emotions and to embrace them.
Starting with embracing Gervais.
* * *
With the arrival of Erika’s family, work for the Hurricanes had taken a backseat. Not that he would have had it any other way. They were his children’s aunts and grandparents. They were important to him. He had to win them over—particularly her father, the king, not that King Bjorn had shown any sign of disapproval.
But important or not, they were the reason he was just now getting to his charts and proposals in the wee small hours of the morning.
Gervais pressed Play on the remote. He was holed up in the mini theater. He had a few hours of preseason games from around the league to catch up on. This was where he’d been slacking the most. Hadn’t spent much time previewing the talent on the other teams yet. Because while Dempsey would fine-tune a solid fifty-three-man roster from the talent currently working out with the team, Gervais needed to cultivate a backup plan for injuries and for talent that didn’t pan out. That meant he needed to familiarize himself with what else was out there, which underrated players might need a new home with the Hurricanes before the October trade deadline.
A creak from the door behind him caused him to turn around in his seat. Erika was there, in the doorway. A bag of popcorn in one hand, with two sodas in the other.
She certainly was a sight for his tired eyes. He drank her in appreciatively, noting the way her bright pink sundress fit her curves, the gauzy fabric swishing when she walked. The halter neck was the sort of thing he could untie with a flick of fabric, and he was seized with the urge to do just that.
As soon as possible. Damn.
“I thought this could be like a date.” She gave him a sly smile, bringing her magnolia scent with her as she neared him, a lock of blond hair grazing his arm.
He took the sodas from her and set them in the cup holders on either side of the leather chairs in the media room.
“Well, then, best date ever.”
“That seems untrue.” Worry and exhaustion lined her voice. “I am sorry about my family arriving unexpectedly. And for how much time they are taking out of your workday.”
“It’s no trouble at all. They are my children’s grandparents. That’s huge.” Pausing the game, he gave her a genuine smile, conceding that he wouldn’t be giving the footage his full attention now. But he had notes on the talent across the league, of course. As an owner, he didn’t run the team alone.
And right now nothing was more important to him than Erika and his children.
Settling deeper into the chair beside him, Erika flipped her long hair in front of one shoulder and centered the bag of popcorn between them.
“I also appreciate how patient you have been. And my sisters loved the tours through New Orleans.” Erika leaned on his shoulder, the scent of her shampoo flooding his mind with memories of London. St. Louis. And last night. Making love, their bodies and scents and need mingling, taking them both to a higher level of satisfaction than he’d ever experienced.
Damn. He loved that. Loved that this smell made her present in his mind.
“Of course.” He breathed, kissed her head, inhaled the scent of her hair and thought of their shower together.
Her breath puffed a little faster from her mouth. She nibbled her bottom lip and gestured to the screen. “May I ask what you are doing?”
Gervais hit Play, a game springing to life. “Well, I have to get a feel for who is out there. I have a team to build. So I may have to replace my current rookies with some of these guys.”
Erika nodded. “And why is this so important to you? Why do you spend so much time on football when, according to the press, they are worth only a fraction of your overall portfolio?”
“Someone’s been doing her research,” he noted. Impressed.
“I was not joking when I told you that I am trying to figure out where to go from here. I am thinking through all possible paths.” Her blue gaze locked on him. “Including the one you have proposed.”
His chest ached with the need to convince her that was the best. But he restrained himself. Focused on her question.
“Why the focus on football?” he repeated, reaching into the popcorn bag for a piece to feed her. “My family is a lot like yours. They come with expectations. But I have my own expectations, and I’ve always wanted to carve out something that was all mine within the vast Reynaud holdings. Some success that I made myself, that was not handed to me. Does that make any sense?”
He presented her with the popcorn and she opened her lips. His touch lingered a bit longer than necessary against her soft mouth.
