Page 62 of On Thin Ice

“Does the family usually talk about negotiations…say, at Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner?”

Vivian didn’t seem too happy at being called out—but her loyalty was clear. “They talk about business all the time. Sometimes Augie even talks about it in his sleep.”

Her husband laughed but it didn’t quite reach his eyes—and not because he didn’t appreciate his wife’s save, but because he wasn’t happy with Hannah.

About that point, I was feeling relieved that I had blended into the background—but that wasn’t the case at all. Hannah was looking for blood and turned to me next. “What about you…Lise? Do you feel like we’re all family here?”

Why had she dragged me into it? I’d hoped to be a fly on the wall—and I was only here to support Sinclair. Regardless, I didn’t want to get dragged into whatever game this woman was playing. I immediately thought of the chess games Sinclair and I played on occasion. Pawns were sacrificed because they were viewed as unimportant and dispensable—and I believed she thought of me this way.

But I wasn’t about to make things difficult with Sinclair and his family…because I suspected that happened enough as it was. And I would not be this woman’s pawn, regardless of how I felt about the Whittiers. “I just met everyone this evening—but Sinclair has been a gracious and kind employer and he has most certainly made me feel like family. If everyone else here is like Sinclair, then I think I might feel that way after getting to know them.”

Just as I’d been able to feel their father’s wrath at the woman interrogating me, I could sense Sinclair’s satisfaction with my answer—but I wasn’t about to look at him for approval.

Hannah let out a short, sharp laugh, one indicating she found my answer unbelievable. “So I guess you want to hear all about the negotiations our two companies are going through?”

“There are worse things you could talk about.”

She sighed then narrowed her eyes at me into a glare, sitting back down in her chair. Well, there was one friend I hadn’t made this evening.

Warren let out a nervous chuckle. “I think we’re going to need more wine.” He and Hannah began talking quietly between the two of them, but I was tense and poised, covered by that strange sensation of waiting for another shoe to drop.

It never did.

And Hannah still didn’t give the head of the family what he’d asked for.

The younger Augustus—Augie—said, “I saw the numbers you raised last quarter. Pretty impressive, Sin.”

As Sinclair and his oldest brother began talking, I felt my muscles relax once again—until I sensed the eldest Whittier’s eyes on me. After taking in a long, slow breath, I turned to meet his gaze.

And he was smiling at me. “In case you’re still around at Thanksgiving, I’m extending an official invitation to the family dinner. It’s clear you know a good deal when you see one.”

Such nice words…but would he be saying that if he knew who I really was?

After dinner, we all casually walked down the block and around the corner—less than five minutes—to arrive at the auditorium. The dessert we’d enjoyed had filled me up and was yet another experience I hadn’t had till now: a chocolate torte that tasted heavenly.

At least I could agree with his family about chocolate.

It wasn’t until we arrived that I found out we would be watching Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. Although I didn’t know what to expect, I hoped I wouldn’t hate it.

If having our own private dining area at the restaurant hadn’t been enough to convince me of the Whittier family’s wealth, the auditorium did. The place was huge—but we weren’t escorted into the main house. Instead, we were taken to a box close to the stage and it was as if it were made for us. There were seats for eight of us—and Sinclair and I wound up taking the seats farthest away from the stage. But there were no bad seats in there. All eight of us had an up-close view of the stage from slightly higher up so that we could see everything, including all the other audience members as they arrived in various areas of the house.

Sinclair leaned close to me, putting his lips next to my ear. It reminded me of how much I wanted this man, even while drowning in his world, feeling like I was losing a part of myself. I was here for him, because of him—and if anyone had told me several months ago that I’d be falling in love with this man, I would have laughed.

“You are amazing,” was all he whispered.

I grinned and turned my head to him. “Why do you say that?”

“You won my father over. How the hell did you do that?”

I simply shrugged, feeling the food in my stomach lurch as if I were suddenly on a roller coaster and going down fast—because if his father knew who I really was, he probably would have asked the staff at the restaurant to serve my head on a platter.

Sinclair saw it on my face. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I lied. “I think I ate something that disagreed with me. I need to find the ladies’ room.”

Already standing, Vivian leaned over behind us. “I’m heading there too.”

Although I was irritated at first that she’d overheard part of our conversation and didn’t mind that we knew, I was glad for her to lead the way. The bathrooms weren’t too far from where our box was, but the place was huge and I could have easily gotten lost.

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