I take a deep breath, hiding my frustration. “Got it. I gotta go, we have dinner reservations.”

“Talk later, Son. And call your Mother,” he adds hurriedly, before I hang up.

“The fucking firm will suffer for it,” I whisper under my breath. “Never mind your son’s fucking life.”

A hand slides over my shoulder, jolting my attention from my phone. I snap my head up and stare into the roundest, most beautiful hazel eyes I’ve ever seen.

My parents treated me well, and I’ve always suspected it was to make up for the hell I grew up in. I also suspect that my brother has always hated me because of that. Hated that he was no longer the sole recipient of their love and attention. And because I grew up with a clear image of rage as a viable stress reducer, Hayden and I fought. A lot.

I never backed down, and I always wondered if that made my parents regret bringing me home. That feeling grew inside me, festered, giving itself weight and space in my mind daily.

I was terrified to be kicked out of the Fox family so I buckled down. I started doing well in school, I followed the rules, I started brushing off stress instead of succumbing to it. Later, I took an interest in the family business when Hayden was disappearing on weekend coke benders. But for me, disappointing Richard and Mildred Fox wasn’t an option. Losing control wasn’t an option. So now, I’m in control of all things and I never, ever let a person make me feel out of control.

Until I met this little spitfire standing in front of me now.

“Is everything okay?” Winter asks.

“Uh, yeah.” I shift on my stool. “Everything’s fine. I was just talking to my father.”

“About Hayden?” She leans against the countertop next to me, setting an empty wine bottle on the island.

“Yeah. He’s been calling me, and I haven’t answered. He thought sending our dad after me would change things, but it’s only made me more irritated.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Winter has a way of making me feel like the world stops when she looks at me. Like, to her, there isn’t anything more important than me in that moment, and that’s not a feeling I’m used to.

I smile, feeling Winter’s warmth exude from her body—the warmest winter I’ve ever experienced.

“No. I’m about two hundred fucks short of caring about my brother’s issues. But I do want to talk about how incredible you look.”

Winter rolls her eyes—as she does—and turns to walk around the island. My eyes immediately drop to her bubbly ass wrapped in a tight, velvet, off-the-shoulder, mini cocktail dress. The dark emerald fabric clings to her body, showing her figure, making her legs look a mile long. Especially in those heels.

“Thank you,” she says. “Of course, you always look incredible. Can you do me a favor, Aleck?” Her tone flattens. She turns around to meet my eyes.