Chapter 4

• Blair had swallowed a couple of cups of coffee, dried her hair, and dressed in a red and white polka-dot shirt, collar up, and a denim skirt, in the hopes of concealing the now powdered hickey.
• She piled cosmetics into a bag while calling a cab; she'd need to make up her face on the way to the dinner.
• "Balthazar, Covent Garden, right?" She remarked this as she hopped into her Uber.
• "Blair Morris?"
• "Yep. Please hurry, I'm late for a family meal."
• "I'll do my best."
• When the driver pushed his foot down, they sped into the traffic.
• Blair began working on her face with the use of a small compact mirror. Lunch with family. That was awkward to say, especially since she'd never met her new family.
• Her mother was getting remarried for the fourth time. Benjamin Talbot, a rich widower, was a former CEO of some posh Canary Wharf advertising business in his early sixties, and that was all she knew about him. Oh, and he had three boys, whom she would be seeing for the first time today. She prayed they weren't horrible privileged school toffs who spoke about skiing in Chamonix and yachting in St. Tropez as if they had plums in their lips. She doubted her ability to be courteous. Her tendency to voice her opinion may just come to light.
• The motorist passed through a queue of cars using the bus lane before turning right towards Seven Dials. He was making great strides.
• She applied red lipstick to match her blouse, then reached into her bag for a set of gold hooped earrings.
• "You're in luck," he murmured as he walked by The Savoy. "The traffic is light." "I suppose it's Sunday."
• "You're a star." She stuffed her cosmetics inside her tote. "And probably saved my bacon." My mother gives me thirty minutes of grace, and then I'm in."
• He came to a standstill in front of Balthazar. A beautiful arch of blue, lilac, and white flowers adorned the enormous glass door, while a member of staff stood at a lectern, fighting off a queue. "Have a nice family lunch."
• "Thanks. I hope you're having a fantastic day as well."
• She walked out, paused on the red carpet that had been spread out on the street, and pushed her shoulders back. Her body hurt from the night before's athletics, but nicely, in a fulfilled manner, and she drew in a breath, her breasts pressing up against her bra. "Here goes, time to meet my new stepfather and brothers."
• A suited maître d' escorted her into the restaurant, looping among tables full of food and heavy with flowing wine. The hum of chatter filled the air, coupled with a delectable mix of herb odours. Blair felt a growl in her gut. It had been a long time since she had eaten anything.
• Her mother was drinking from a flute, which she noticed. Her blonde hair was sprayed into a rigid haircut, and she wore a favorite blue dress with pearls from a former husband—he hadn't lasted long.
• Blair took advantage of the vulnerable moment and looked around the table. To her mother's right, she assumed it was Benjamin Talbot, the groom. His sharp visage was complemented by his square jaw, salt-and-pepper hair, and tortoiseshell glasses. He'd paired a bottle-green tie with a white shirt, and the tie looked to bear an insignia.
• Two men with big shoulders and good features sat to his left. Maybe late twenties. Neither was speaking, their mouths set in straight lines, their eyes focused, and their backs rigid.
• "Thank the dear Lord," whispered Blair. She was not the last one to arrive. One of the brothers had vanished. Her mother couldn't be upset with her.
• She adjusted her collar, hoping it still covered the hickey, and went up to the table.
• "Ah, here she is…finally." Jenny, her mother, raised her head. "My daughter, Blair."
• Blair put on a brave front and knelt to kiss her mother on the cheek. "Hi, Mom."
• "So good of you to join us." Jenny's kind tone was tinged with irony. But only a smidgeon, just enough to hurt Blair.
• "I'm not the last to arrive."
• "You are."
• "But—" Blair smirked.
• "Blair, finally we meet." Benjamin extended his hand. His blue eyes gleamed, and his grin was kind. "I've heard so much about you."
• "All good, I hope."
• "Naturally." He tilted his head and looked at her.
• What had her mother said to him? That she was locked in a rut with an asshole boss? That her apartment was only suitable for the mouse she feared lurked under her stove? That two of her bedposts had so many notches that she had to start on a third?
• "I'd like to introduce my sons, Donny and Alan." Benjamin motioned to the two big guys who had joined him at his side.
• Both were attractive in a manly sense that didn't imply vanity, merely good breeding and money.
• "Hey, I'm Donny."
• Blair laughed, caught aback by the intensity of Donny's stare. He seemed to be peering into her soul. "Nice to meet you, bro."
• He cocked his black brow.
• "You know," she chuckled once again, "bro, brother. I've never had a stepbrother."
• "You have now." The man on his side looked at her with the same intensity. "I'm Alan."
• "Please sit, let's get you a drink, Blair." Benjamin made a motion to the waitress. "Champagne?"
• "Thank you." Blair sat, painfully aware that everyone was staring at her. It made her skin itch, and she yearned for a drink.
• She saw her mother's displeasure as the waiter poured her glass. She'd noticed the hiccup.
• "To our new family." Benjamin shook his glass. "And getting to know one another."
• Blair smiled and sipped her drink. Donny and Alan were staring at her so intently that heat surged on her chest. "My mother told me you have three sons, Benjamin."
• "I do." Benjamin grinned and held her mother's hand in his, concealing the gleaming gem on her ring finger. "Evan was unable to attend. He urged me to convey his regrets. He would have liked to meet you."
• "Evan? "An unusual name."
• No one talked for a little period. Had she been impolite? But it had an odd name.
• "Evan. Ev," Alan began. "It's a childhood nickname that stuck."
• "I see." She took another swig of champagne. She had no choice. Sacred hell. She now has three handsome males to call brothers. Sharon and Cora, her friends, would perish if she told them. Maybe she'll be able to introduce them. "And how did Evan get that nickname?"
• "Always wanted to be a soldier," Donny shrugged. "Began carrying around a small wooden gun, wearing a helmet, and smearing black under his eyes." "Ev" was a good name for him. Even his professors referred to him as it."
• "And did he go on to become a soldier?" she inquired.
• "He did," Alan confirmed. "He's a member of the Regiment." Does all the dirty work that no one else wants or can do."