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Cole had been determined to be a better man to Traci before he’d discovered she was using him. Although he knew his reputation in the press was now that of a playboy, Cole never juggled more than one woman at a time—he just kept his relationships strings-free.
“Can I get anything for anyone before I go shopping for dinner?”
Cole glanced up at Jillian, standing in the opening of the dining room, before he looked over his shoulder at the spring sun blazing down on the thirty-two-foot length of the garden. A long concrete table set beneath an arched framework covered with bamboo leaves offered privacy and shade. At night, he liked to sit outside, smoke a cigar and sip Uncle Nearest premium whiskey as he listened to the sounds of New York and watched the illuminated water fountain at the end of the garden.
There had been many a night that memories of stolen moments with the sexy chef had dominated his thoughts. More often than not, that led to a phone call or text before he was off on his motorcycle, zipping through the streets to reach her.
And stroke deeply inside her...
“That will be all, Jillian. Thank you,” Nicolette said, breaking into his train of thought.
“We need someone to step in and take over the restaurant division in Gabe’s absence,” Phillip Senior said, wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin before dropping it atop his half-eaten steak, mushroom and mozzarella omelet.
Cole glared at his father. “Good luck with that,” he drawled. “I’m not filling a spot my brother left.”
“Grow up, Cole!” Phillip Junior snapped.
Cole shot him a glare, as well. “Go to—”
“Oh no-oo,” Raquel said, rising in a beautiful sheer red shirt and matching wide-legs pants to pick up their daughter’s plate. “Come on, Collette. We’ll finish breakfast upstairs.”
“What’s wrong?” the little girl asked.
“The adults need the room...and to remembertheyare adults.” Raquel shot a meaningful glance at both Cole and her husband before leading the preschooler out of the room.
“This sullen brat routine is getting old, Cole,” Phillip Junior said, looking even more like the former wrestler turned movie star Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. He hated it when his brothers teased him about that.
“And so is figuring out just how you manage to breathe with your face buried so deep in Dad’s behind,” Cole shot back.
Of all the brothers, Phillip Junior was the most devoted to his father—and believed that being “The Eldest” guaranteed him a natural progression to the throne.
“Enough,” Sean said sternly with a shake of his head.
Cole eyed “The Star.” Everyone had a role. Sean relished his as the star of several of Cress, INC’s most popular cooking shows. He believed his face as the brand was the winning ticket. “Enough what?” he asked.
“Enough making everything uncomfortable because it amuses you,” Lucas answered.
I find humor to avoid rage.But Cole kept his thought to himself as he eyed the youngest Cress son, “The Favorite.” All his life, Lucas had been doted on by their mother with love—and plenty of food. He’d packed the extra pounds on until recently.
Cole loved his brothers. His only anger with them was for their blind allegiance to their father, who was undeserving of it.
No one knows that but me.
“So, you all will just fill Gabe’s shoes and make him feel we don’t want or need him back?” Cole accused, eyeing each of his brothers.
“À la nourriture. À la vie. À l’amour,”Nicolette said, filling the silence with her favorite French saying. To food. To life. To love.
The maxim was painted on the wall above all of her stoves—personal and professional—and on the base of every pan in the Cress line of cookware. It was the watermark of every letter from the various editors of their culinary magazines. It was also branded throughout their online presence. And it served as the closing statement for the cooking shows produced by Cress, INC.’s television division.
“Gabriel will return,” she asserted. “His presence here and at Cress, INC. is missed. Until he decides that he wants his position back, someone must complete the work.”
“I’ll do it,” Phillip Junior asserted. “A future CEO has to set the example and step in when left in a jam by someone else.”
“Sycophant,” Cole muttered, disgusted by the lack of loyalty among brothers.
Nicolette reached to cover Cole’s hand with her own. “I miss him, too,” she assured him.
“Then fix it,” he demanded, locking his gray-blue eyes with her own.
