16. Stuart
STUART
Brooke looks awed and impressed. The house is rather large, but it’s no less than what I’d expect my friends to select.
The entrance to the modern glass-and-concrete home is at the back of an open-air courtyard filled with lush greenery.
We walk along the stone pathway that crosses a koi pond, stopping at oversized, etched glass double doors.
The doors are built into a wall of varnished teak.
In contrast, the two sidewalls of the courtyard are made of natural stone that’s been carved into ocean-themed murals.
The artwork depicts every imaginable ocean creature from tiny fish to whales.
We ring the doorbell, which swiftly emits the sounds of soothing wind chimes blowing in the coastal breeze.
Soon, a stout, gray-haired woman opens one of the front doors. I’m not certain whether she’s the housekeeper, security, or both.
“Hello, I’m Lord Sandridge and this is my guest, Ms. Bennett. Evan and Sean are expecting us.”
“Of course, please come in. I’m Gwendolyn. I’ll tell Carl to bring in your luggage.”
“Thank you, Gwendolyn. There’s no need to bother Carl. We’re only here for the day. There’s no luggage.”
“Understood. Your friends are waiting for you on the back patio. Follow me.”
Walking through the front door, we’re in a spacious, two-story entryway with a clear view of the Pacific Ocean at the far back of the large home.
We trail slightly behind Gwendolyn as she leads us from the entry, through the long, wide passage to the back wall of glass doors that open onto a terrace. As we step outside, she says, “Sirs, your guests have arrived.”
Sean and Evan hurry over to greet us. We hug and slap each other on the back in our standard greeting.
Turning toward Brooke, Sean blurts, “Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?”
“Of course. Brooke, meet Sean and Evan. Sean’s the blond, blue-eyed American. Evan is the dark-haired one who talks more like me.”
She laughs at my casual introduction. “Nice to meet you both.”
They nod to Brooke, but look at me, shaking their heads.
“Haven’t we outgrown the requirement for the formal version?”
“No way. Do it right,” Sean demands.
Brooke looks confused.
“Fine. Let me present Garret Evan Louis Francesco Catalinius, also known as Prince Evan of Catalinius and second in line to the throne behind his older brother Prince Xander. And this is Sean Cartwright, heir to the Grand Athena Resort and Casino. He’s American royalty in Las Vegas.
Gentlemen, meet Ms. Brooke Bennett. She’s one of the attorneys for my dad’s foundation. ”
Brooke looks at me and then at each of them, bewildered.
Eventually, she breaks the silence. Looking at Evan, she asks, “Should I curtsy? What do I call you? Prince Evan? Your Royal Highness?”
Sean, Evan, and I laugh. Evan replies, “In this house, I’m just Evan, and this is Sean.
The formal introduction is a remnant of our uni days.
When my parents would visit, they insisted on formalities.
So, my friends learned all my names and started introducing me like that even when my family wasn’t around.
Sean felt left out, so we came up with a formal version for him too. It’s all in good fun.”
Brooke asks, “So the introductions are accurate but not necessary. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Exactly. First names only here. Now, where are the drinks? Brooke has had a bad day,” I explain.
“We have the ingredients for Evan’s favorite Boulevardier, McCallum scotch for me, and whiskey for Stuart. Which would you like?” Sean asks, turning to Brooke.
She winces at the mention of whiskey, clearly remembering her hangover after the elevator incident. “Do you have any white wine?”
“We do,” Evan says, walking to the nearby outdoor bar to pour our drinks.
“You never told me what brought you two to LA. I thought you’d be in Ibiza,” I say to my mates.
“A friend of mine is getting married here in a couple of weeks. When I told Evan, he agreed that a detour to Malibu sounded good. We’re headed to Ibiza to meet some other friends after the wedding. You should join us. Brooke can come too,” Sean says with a knowing smile.
“That’s some detour.” Brooke comments, her eyes wide. Her astonishment isn’t a surprise. Most people wouldn’t have the luxury of flying to the west coast of the U.S. at the last minute when they had planned to be on holiday in Europe.
My world may seem a bit extravagant to her, but it’s working its magic.
As I’d hoped, the tension is easing from her shoulders as she stands here with my friends and sneaks occasional peeks at the ocean.
There’s something calming about the roar of the waves, the cool evening breeze, and the light reflecting off the water as the sun starts to set.
I’m glad it’s working its magic on Brooke.
“Well, we’re used to hopping around the globe when plans change,” Evan says.
Brooke replies, “If only I had that freedom. Work keeps me tied to LA.”
“You go on holiday though, don’t you?” Evan asks.
“Not really. At least, not since college and law school. When I joined the law firm, my life changed from fairly carefree to extremely rigid. And if I want to make partner, I don’t dare take time off. They’d think I wasn’t serious enough.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’ll burn out,” Sean states emphatically.
“Think of it like a marathon. Only those who are determined and fit make it to the end and cross the finish line. Lots drop out along the way,” she says.
“That’s brutal. Have you thought about pursuing another profession?” Evan asks.
“It’s a little too late for that, especially with my mammoth student loans to pay off.”
I’m not sure if, without the debt, she’d want to pursue something different or if she’s doing exactly what she wants.
Either way, it’s time for a lighter topic, so I say, “Enough talk about working too hard. I promised Brooke a relaxing afternoon at the beach. So, I’m going to take her for a walk in the sand. What are you two doing for dinner?”
“Our chef is grilling on the patio, and a few people are coming over. We’re counting on the two of you staying for the party.”
“Brooke, are you good with that?”
“If you are.”
“Then it’s settled. Let’s go for that walk on the beach I promised you.”
“You two know you’re wearing suits, right?”
“This was last minute. We didn’t bring anything else. We already took off our jackets. We’ll ditch our shoes. It’ll be fine.”
Minutes later, the roar of the waves calls us. We leave our shoes on the patio and begin descending the wooden steps down the cliffside to the sandy beach below.
“I forgot to bring towels. Go ahead. I’ll meet you on the beach in a minute,” I say.
“Okay, but hurry, if you don’t want to miss out. I’ll be wiggling my toes in the sand at the bottom of the steps,” she teases.
It doesn’t take long to find two beach towels and return to the staircase.
I pause when I see Brooke digging her toes into the sand.
Her head is tipped back, eyes closed, breathing in the fresh, slightly salty air as she soaks up the last sun of the day.
The sunlight hitting her hair adds golden highlights to her auburn hair. It glows like fine copper.
She glances over her shoulder, looking up at me. I wave and hurry down the stairs wanting to reach her as quickly as possible.
Planting my foot on the last step, my focus is on Brooke, planning to pick her up and twirl her in the sand.
As I toss the towels onto the beach, my body lunges forward, narrowly missing Brooke. A pained “Ouch!” escapes my throat as I face plant in the sand.
This can’t be happening.