24. JAKE

We're in the guesthouse instead of the main house.

So far, Grant and I are the only ones there because the rest of my brothers—as always—are late.

"Give me a hint before everyone else shows up," says Grant, who is lounging in a chair with a glass in his hand, drinking expensive bourbon like usual. "Why did you call us here?"

I can't buy this place when it goes up for sale.

"Your love life is rubbish. You need help," I say instead, stalling mostly for myself. I'm not ready to admit I need help.

"How can it be rubbish?" smirks Grant. "I'm with a new woman every week."

"Exactly."

"I don't understand the problem."

"How do women stand you?"

"Ah, you're looking for advice." He stands up and goes to the bar cart to top off his drink.

"I'm not."

"Who's the special woman?"

"No one," I tell him, "and even if there was anyone—" There isn't. "—I don't think you understand the meaning of the word special."

Grant's eyes go smug. "The trick is to make them all feel special."

"You're an asshole."

"No, I'm not." He goes and reclines himself on a chaise. "Wouldn't you say every woman has her own set of special qualities?"

"One day, they'll join forces and come after you."

My brother's smirk slopes higher. "Now, that's an idea."

"I changed my mind. One day there's going to be a woman who you fall on your ass for and she's going to crush you with rejection. I've heard it referred to as karma."

He laughs. "Sure."

I look around. "Where is everyone?"

"Our mother is making tarts in the main house. I bet our hooligan siblings went there first." He considers me over the rim of his glass. "Want to head in?"

"No."

Grant looks like he's wondering whether to argue or prod me about my feelings. Something about how the last time I'd been in the main house was after our father's funeral. I turn away from him, not willing to face any memories today. Especially since the whole reason we're in this mess is because of him.

And—her.

Fuck, I can't believe Patel beat me.

The difference in our portfolios is insulting. It shouldn't be possible.

Because of her, the plans I laid out for this year have turned into a fucking catastrophe. Now I'm here, struggling to find a fix.

"Jake?" my brother says, dropping his usual charm. "You okay?"

Before I can tell him to grab our brothers, my phone buzzes. I check the message. Then I get up.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"Family meeting cancelled."

"Seriously? I drove two hours to get here."

"You'll survive."

"Where are you going?"

I feel my expression transform.

Grant sighs. "Give my condolences to whoever you're going to steamroll."

"No."

"Okay, now you have to tell me. Where are you going?"

"To a wedding."