My dress for the night is a black sheath with a scoop neckline and a white lace hem, a gift from Bryant.

Standing in front of the mirror, I draw in a nervous breath and tug at the hem. It refuses to go past my knees.

I feel a little overdressed but among all the other dresses, this little number seems more appropriate for an occasion where I’d be surrounded by wealthy, powerful men. I’d never fit in if I wore my own clothes from home.

Why am I so nervous? It’s not as if Bryant and I are a couple. Why do I need to impress the brothers of the man I’m sleeping with?

I turn to find Bryant watching me with a frown while buttoning up his shirt. “Don’t you like it?”

I smooth down the sides. “You don’t think it’s a little . . . too much?”

“I think.” Bryant comes to put his arms around me, planting kisses on my right collarbone. “I think I wouldn’t change a thing.” He runs his hands down my back. “You make this dress look so good.”

Warmth spreads through my chest. “You’re such a charmer.”

“I’m just honest.” He stops kissing me. “As much as I would love to peel this dress from your body, we don’t have much time.” He places both hands on my shoulders and gazes into my eyes. “Ready?”

“I guess so. I hope I am.” I bite my lip. “Are you?”

His hands drop to his sides. “Why do you ask that?”

“Well, you seem a little nervous.”

He chuckles and picks his keys from the padded windowsill. “It’s been awhile since I saw my brothers, that’s all.”

“Is it hard, you know, being around your brother Lance?” I don’t mean to step into territory that’s uncomfortable for him but the desire to know him inside out burns through me.

“Sometimes.” He swipes a palm across his forehead. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The drive to the LaClaire villa is less than twenty minutes, and once I catch sight of the property, my breath catches in my throat.

The villa, a dream of twinkling lights in the blanket of night, is located at the edge of the ocean and has an infinity pool and its own private beach. It looks more like a luxury resort than someone’s house.

“This is amazing.” The sea breeze catches strands of my hair and twirls them around my face. “How do you not stay here all the time? It’s so relaxing.”

“That’s exactly it.” Bryant weaves his fingers with mine, taking me by surprise. He makes it look like we’re not temporary. “If I spent too much time here, I’d not appreciate it as much as I do now.” He leads me up a number of stone steps, with a wheelchair ramp on the side.

“I know what you mean. Too much of a good thing isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

Before Bryant can respond, the ornate double doors are swung open and a man resembling him fills the doorway, a bottle of wine in one hand. Though a smile curls his lips, something about his features tells me he doesn’t smile much.

“Just in time for the party.” He gestures for us to enter with his bottle of wine. “What’s up, stranger?” Before Bryant crosses the threshold, his brother engulfs him in a tight embrace.

“And who is this beauty?” Another man appears at the door, followed by more. Nervous butterflies flutter in the pit of my stomach as I watch Bryant shift.

This was a mistake. What am I doing, meeting his family when we’re only sleeping together? The way his jaw is clenching, I can see he’s trying to work out how best to introduce me. I save him the trouble and stretch a hand toward the guy who opened the door.

“My name is Grace Anderson. I’m—I work on the LaClaire.”

“We’ve heard all about you, Grace. I’m Neal.” Neal takes my hand with both of his. “Welcome.” He pulls me inside, where Derrick and Caleb introduce themselves along with several of their friends who fill the hallway.

On the ride to the villa, Bryant had given me a snapshot of each of his brothers, telling me just enough so I won’t feel like a complete stranger.

Before Neal, twenty-eight, tells me his name, I almost mistake him for Bryant’s twin brother, Lance. In spite of his crew cut, and slightly crooked aquiline nose, his resemblance to Bryant is unmistakable. According to Bryant, Neal had once been a military man but now owns a chain of self-defense schools across the United States.

Caleb, twenty-six—a real estate magnate—has the LaClaire eyes but his hair has chosen to be sandy blond rather than chestnut brown.

Neither Caleb nor Neal have the dimples.

Of the brothers present, Derrick, the youngest, bears no resemblance to his brothers, not surprising given that he was adopted. As he pulls away after pressing a kiss on my cheek, I notice a scar tracing the edge of his jaw, hiding beneath the stubble. I’m guessing it’s a souvenir he brought with him from one of his adventures. The scar steals nothing from his rugged good looks.

Everyone is carrying a bottle of beer, or a glass with wine or champagne swirling inside. The scent of expensive cologne follows them as they move

I’m ushered into an exquisite, citrus-smelling living room that extends to another covered outdoor living room and patio. Soft piano music mingles with the hosts and guests.

“Is Lance around as well?” I whisper to Bryant, half an hour later, when he presses a paloma into my hand. “I’d love to meet him.”

Bryant takes a swig of his beer. “I went to see him a couple of minutes ago. He’s suffering from back pain. He’ll come down later.”

I want to ask more questions about Lance’s condition, but I don’t get a chance as Neal calls everyone out onto the patio. The buffet is laid out and we can serve ourselves.

“Has he told you yet?” Neal whispers into my ear as he leads me to the buffet.

“Who? Bryant?” I spoon guacamole onto my plate. “No, he hasn’t said a word.”

“About what?” Bryant narrows his eyes at his brother.

“His past.” Neal smiles and Bryant blanches, or is it my imagination?

No, he definitely looks uncomfortable as he shoots his brother a warning glance.

“What do you mean by that, Neal?” Bryant’s voice is steel-edged. He picks up a plate.

Neal slaps him on the back. “Just that you think you’re pretty hot shit now, but you were once the geekiest kid on the block.”

“Oh . . . that.” Bryant’s shoulders sink. “What can I say?”

What was that about? I look from Neal to Bryant but the tension has dissipated.

Neal takes a drink of beer. “That and your obsession with Star Trek and chess.”

“Wrong.” Bryant laughs louder than I’ve ever heard him do before. “It was Star Wars. Get your facts straight.”

Before I know it, Bryant’s other brothers have neglected the other ten or so guests and are all making fun of Bryant.

“Apart from watching Star Wars,” Caleb adds. “The guy never had a life. His nose was always buried inside some book.”

“Oh, another thing.” Derrick interjects. “Bryant is older than all of us here, but when other kids picked on him, we threw the punches.”

“He couldn’t defend himself?” I ask, taking a seat at the table.

“He tried.” Neal slaps Bryant on the back again. “But he fought like a girl. His strategy was always to push the opponent.”

During the rest of dinner, still with Lance absent, the brothers continue their Bryant bashing stories. Since they’re all so warm and welcoming, and Bryant doesn’t seem to mind, the nervous butterflies in my stomach fall asleep and I relax.

Although I’m enjoying the stories, I do throw Bryant an occasional glance to make sure he’s okay, but always find him laughing along with the others.

After my dessert of mouth-watering coffee crème brûlée, I excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room. My plan is to give them a few minutes alone to catch up on each other’s lives.

The villa is bigger than I imagined, so that I manage to lose my way, even after Bryant had given me clear directions. Frustrated with myself, I walk out onto one of the many huge balconies, planning to kill time before retracing my steps back downstairs.

I lean against the railing and let the sound of the waves rolling onto the private beach wash over me.

“No guests allowed out here,” A voice booms from behind me.

I spin around, blood rushing to my cheeks. My gaze sweeps the vast balcony before I see the man seated at the far end.

At first I think it’s Bryant, but he couldn’t have followed me upstairs and had a chance to sit down. It can only be Lance.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” I clear my throat. “I’m Grace, Bryant’s . . . friend.” I approach him and extend my hand. He’s a carbon copy of Bryant.

“Hello.” His face remains stoic but he shakes my hand. “I’m Lance. What brings you up here, Grace?”

I glance at the wheelchair next to him. A pang hits the center of my chest. “Bryant invited me.”

“I mean out here on this balcony?” A smile tips a corner of his mouth.

“Oh, I thought . . . Well, I was looking for the ladies’ room. I lost my way. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Calm down.” He picks an open bottle of gin from the floor and takes a swig. “I was kidding. Feel free to roam where you wish.”

“Thanks.” I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “It’s nice to meet you, Lance.” I glance at the ocean. “Bryant said you have back pain?”

“That’s right.” He takes another swig and laughs out loud. “Every damn day.”

“I’m sorry.” I lean my back against the railing, not feeling the need to leave yet. “Maybe I can help. I’m a masseuse.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I freeze. “I mean—you don’t have to say yes. All I can offer is temporary relief anyway. I thought maybe you’ll feel better enough to join the party.”

His gaze searches my face for a moment. Sweat pops onto my forehead.

He cocks his head to the side. “A masseuse, huh? Bryant really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?”

I have no idea how to respond to that, so I don’t.

“All right then.” His eyes don’t leave my face. “Temporary relief is fine.” He lifts the bottle to his lips again, drains out the last drops. He slumps forward to produce another from underneath his chair.

As I watch him unscrew the cap, an ache throbs in my throat. Bryant has told me that Lance has an alcohol problem, but how often does he drown his pain in the stuff? And who am I to judge? I can’t even start to imagine being in his condition.

I wish I could ask what happened to him, but it’s none of my business. We’ve just met. I wouldn’t want to seem nosy. Besides, if Bryant had wanted me to know, he’d have told me himself.

Lance bends forward again, allowing me to work my hands over his back. With my eye on the ocean, my fingers travel the length of his back, in search of knots and kinks, trying to locate the source of his pain.

The sighs coming from him, assure me I must be offering him some kind of relief.

Five minutes into the massage, a deep voice from my left makes me jump back as though I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t be doing.

“What the hell?” Bryant is standing in the entrance to the balcony, his eyes blazing. “I thought you wanted to go to the ladies’ room. I came looking for you. I never thought you’d be here with your hands on my brother.”

Why is he looking at us that way? It’s not as if we are having some kind of romantic time together.

“Lance was in pain. I offered to massage him, that’s all.” Frankly, I don’t even know why I have to explain myself. It’s not as if we’re a couple. And since when is it a sin to help someone out? I have a feeling something’s going on between the two brothers, something deep and dark, something reflected in Bryant’s eyes.

“Classic, Bryant.” Lance twists his body to face his brother. “Geez, I wonder why you’re so on edge. Could it be you’re afraid I might tell Grace your little secret?”

“What . . . I—what little secret?” I take a step away from Lance, and watch as the color drains from Bryant’s face.

I have a feeling everything will come out into the open without me having to ask any further questions. I want to know what their secret is, but at the same time I don’t. Whatever it is already chills my spine.

Lance turns to me with a triumphant smile. “The lady wants to know.” He looks back at Bryant, who looks about to pass out, his body slumped against the balcony door frame. “What do you say, Bryant, should I tell her or keep her in the dark?”

“Don’t you dare!” Bryant’s voice cuts through the tension. “Grace, come on, let’s go.”

“No.” My eyes are still trained on Lance, my voice a whisper. “I want to know what Lance is talking about.”

Finding out Bryant is not the perfect man I think he is might make it easier to let him go when the time comes.

“All right then.” Lance rubs his hands together. “After graduation from high school, the two of us traveled to Paris to celebrate. It was there that Audrey Dupuis entered our lives and changed them forever. She was a French girl, with the body of a goddess.” He raises a brow. “Did Bryant mention her to you?”

Still frightened about what I’m about to hear, I shake my head. Although I’m not looking at Bryant, his anger infiltrates the area around us.

“Well, I fell in love with Audrey the moment her amber eyes met mine. And then—”

“Lance,” Bryant’s warning again. “Don’t do this.”

Lance ignores him and continues the story, taking a swig from his bottle after every few words. The alcohol is definitely fueling Lance. “Everything was going well between me and Audrey. She was made for me. Then I made one stupid mistake. I introduced her to my brother, thinking he’d be happy for me. Not everyone is lucky to find the one person who completes them.” He inhales sharply. “Well, my dear brother decided he wanted her too. And he did everything to get her.” Lance coughs or laughs. It’s hard to tell which it is. “He flirted with her right in front of me. He took her out to dinner, bought her jewels, you name it. Needless to say, the next couple of weeks in Paris were one hell of a roller coaster. And then—”

“That’s enough.” Bryant’s fist connects with a wall and we both turn to face him. My heart clenches at the sight of his furious face but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to hear more.

“What happened after?” I lean against the railing, arms crossed.

“Things got ugly real fast. One night, we ended up fighting on the hotel balcony.” He pauses. “Are you sure you want to know what happened next? It could change everything.”

I swallow hard and nod.

“My brother, the one person I’m closest to, threw me over the balcony. My body went flying seven floors down. Then you know what he did? He walked away. He left me for dead. If it weren’t for the kindness of strangers, who drove me to the hospital, I’d be dead. But, then again, I can’t decide which is worse, whether it would’ve been better to rot underground or inside a wheelchair.” His hands grab his knees.

I gasp and whip around to glare at Bryant, who looks shell-shocked.

“You know it wasn’t like that.” He grinds the words between his teeth. His eyes beg me to take his side. “Grace, believe me, it wasn’t like that.”

“Is it true?” Disappointment makes me feel faint. Never in a million years would I have guessed him to be the kind of guy that does something so cruel.

Bryant peels his gaze from mine and his chin hits his chest. Is that an admission of guilt? Why won’t he make me understand? Why not clear his name? There’s only one explanation and it chills me to the bone. “It’s true, isn’t it?” The painful tightness in my throat makes it hard to get the words out. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I should—I need to get out of here for a bit.” I need time to digest everything I’ve heard before I can face Bryant again, the new version of him.