mood inside the living room was decidedly less jovial. She could feel her sisters and mother sizing her up. Determining what Erika ought to do. And if she had to bet, getting her Master’s in Nursing wasn’t even on the table anymore. They’d never supported her ambitions. And if she was carrying a male child...well, they’d certainly have a lot of opinions to throw at her.
For the first time since learning she was pregnant, Erika felt alone.
She had hoped for an ally in Fiona, but Fiona hadn’t come to meet everyone. She wasn’t feeling well. Erika was not feeling all that great herself right now. Her family overwhelmed her in force.
Turning reluctantly from the bay windows, she studied her mother. Arnora Mitras had always been a slight, slim woman. Unlike other royals, she recycled outfits. But Arnora was a friend of many fashion designers. She was always draped in finery, things quite literally off the runway.
Her four sisters—Liv, Astrid, Helga and Hilda—stood in the far corner, discussing things in hushed tones. The twins, Helga and Hilda, both had the same nervous tic, tracing the outline of their bracelets. It was something that they had both done since they were little girls. Erika squinted at them, trying to figure out what had them on edge.
But it was Astrid who caught her gaze. Blue eyes of equal intensity shone back at her. Astrid gave a curt nod, her honey-blond bob falling into her face.
It was a brief moment of recognition, but then Astrid turned back to the conversation. Back to whispering.
Three of her sisters had married into comfort, but not luxury. Not like what the Reynauds offered. And they lived across Europe, leading quieter lives. No male heirs, no extravagance. A part of Erika envied that anonymity, especially now.
Of course, Gervais had seen to every detail. And in record time. He called in all the staff and security. Arranged what looked like a small state dinner in record time. He even had nannies brought in for her nieces.
Beignets, fruit and pralines were decadently arranged into shapes and designed. It looked almost too beautiful to eat. Erika watched as her sisters loaded their plates with the pastries and fruit, but they eyed the pralines with distrust. They weren’t an open-minded bunch. They preferred to stick to what they knew. Which was also probably why they skipped over the iced tea and went straight for the coffee. That was familiar.
“Mother—” the word tumbled out of Erika’s mouth “—some advance notice of your visit would have been nice.”
“And give you the opportunity to make excuses to put us off? I think not.”
Sighing unabashedly, Erika trudged on. “I was not putting you off, Mother. I was simply...”
“Avoiding us all,” Helga finished for her as she approached. The rest of the Mitras women a step behind her.
“Hardly. I wanted time to prepare for your visit and to ensure that every detail was properly attended to.”
Helga gave a wave to the spread of food and raised her brow. She clearly didn’t believe Erika’s protest. “This place is amazing. You landed well, sister.”
“I am only visiting and getting things in order for our babies’ sake.” Erika’s words were clipped, her emotions much more of a tangle.
“Well, you most certainly have something in common. Relationships have been built on less. I say go for it. Chase that man down until he proposes.” The last word felt like nails on a chalkboard in Erika’s ears. She schooled her features neutral, just as she had done when she was a translator. No emotions walked across her face.
Erika stayed diplomatically quiet.
Her mother’s delicately arched eyebrow lifted, and she set her bone china coffee cup down with a slow and careful air. “He has already proposed? You two are getting married?”
“No, I did not say we are getting married.”
“But he has proposed,” Hilda pressed gently.
“Stop. This is why I would have preferred you wait to meet him. Give Gervais and me a chance to work out the details of our lives without family interference, and then we will share our plan.”
Liv waggled her fingers toward the French doors leading to the vast patio. “His family is here.”
“And they are not pushy,” Erika retorted with conviction. She wasn’t backing down from this. Not a chance.
“We are not pushy, either. We just want what is best for you.” Hilda’s porcelain complexion turned ruddy, eyes widening with hurt and frustration like during their childhood whenever people laughed at her lisp. She always had been the most sensitive of the lot.
Smoothing her green dress, Liv—always the prettiest, and the most rebellious, the infamous sex tape being the least of her escapades—took a deep breath and touched her hair. “I think all of this travel has made me a bit weary. I shall rest and we will talk later.”
And with that her mother, Liv, Helga and Hilda all left the grand living room, heels clacking against the ground.
But Astrid didn’t leave. She hung back, eyes fixed on Erika.
Anger burned in Erika’s belly. Astrid was her oldest sister. The one who always told her what to do. She had been the sister to lecture her as a child. Erika fully anticipated some version of that pseudo-parental “advice” to spill out of Astrid’s lips.
“Keep standing up for yourself. You are doing the right thing.”
Gaping, Erika steadied herself on the back of the tapestry sofa. “Seriously? I appreciate the support but I have to say it would be nice to have with Mother present.”
Astrid shrugged. “She is frightening and strong willed. We all know that. But you do understand, you are strong, too. That is why we pushed you off the balcony first.”
“Wow, thanks,” Erika grumbled, recalling the terrifying drop from balcony to homemade trampoline.
“You are welcome.” Astrid closed her in a tight embrace. In a half whisper, she added, “I love you, sister.”
“I love you, too.” That much of life was simple.
If only the other relationships—her relationship with Gervais—could be as easily understood. Or maybe they could. Perhaps the time had come to stop fighting her emotions and to embrace them.
Starting with embracing Gervais.
* * *
With the arrival of Erika’s family, work for the Hurricanes had taken a backseat. Not that he would have had it any other way. They were his children’s aunts and grandparents. They were important to him. He had to win them over—particularly her father, the king, not that King Bjorn had shown any sign of disapproval.
But important or not, they were the reason he was just now getting to his charts and proposals in the wee small hours of the morning.
Gervais pressed Play on the remote. He was holed up in the mini theater. He had a few hours of preseason games from around the league to catch up on. This was where he’d been slacking the most. Hadn’t spent much time previewing
