Meanwhile, Amber made some sounds that Phantom could only describe as sputtering.
Maybe the lawyer wasn’t done with the conversation, but his doctor was. Olivia came pushing out of the swinging door like a righteous ebony Valkyrie a second later.
But she stopped short when she saw Phantom standing there.
“Hak-kan!” Her face fell. “Did you hear all of that? Don’t be upset. I don’t think Amber meant—”
Now it was his turn to cut her off. With a deep kiss. One he didn’t end, even when Amber followed Olivia out of the room. She looked pretty fucking sheepish as she sticked her way back to the kitchen entrance. But he was too busy kissing the hell out of Olivia to care.
Olivia returned his kiss at first but then pulled away. “Wait, were you serious about having a gay brother you could set Eric up with?”
“Yeah…” Phantom answered carefully. “But I don’t think he’s Eric’s type.”
“Good!” she said. “Because I was talking to Byron while you were gone, and he was just about to give me his number to give to Eric when you came out. I think they’d be perfect for each other. He’s smart and charming, and being a cop who’s buddy-buddy with two different mafia gangs makes him just edgy enough to satisfy Eric’s bad-boy requirement, I believe. And I bet he has a tattoo hidden somewhere we can’t see. Maybe two or three. Plus, Eric loves bi guys—he says he likes to be chosen.”
Phantom lifted his eyebrows….
Then asked both her and himself, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Okay, great, let me just go get his number,” she said, pulling away.
This woman…
Phantom’s heart did something wholly new in his chest as he watched her go hunt down Byron’s number for her best friend.
She’d cheered him on and only talked to another guy to get his number for her best friend. Plus, she’d out-argued the toughest lawyer he’d ever met. For him.
She’d spoken so highly of his Loyalty No Questions policy. And he had to admit, it hadn’t always been easy. He’d had opinions—a whole lot of them—as he watched Victor and Han do crazy shit to keep their women.
But now….
Now he understood why.
And he wondered—yeah, he had to wonder just how obsessed he’d get before this was all said and done.
17
OLIVIA
A few days after our shower debut, Hak-kan and I found ourselves back in Kentucky at the Glendaver Country Club, playing a round of golf with Dad and Skylar. (The only thing my father loved more than squeeze-ins were visits centered around his favorite past-time at his favorite golf course.)
Skylar had warned us that it was in the 30s and spitting down freezing rain right before we got on the plane. But ever since we’d arrived, the weather had been on a warmish streak, giving us low sixties in the days leading up to Christmas.
Typical Kentucky weather. As any local would tell you, we could have all four seasons in the same week. But in this case, I couldn’t help but think what Eric called “The Universe” was looking out for us.
It being warm enough to golf gave Hak-kan the perfect opportunity to get in some FaceTime with Dad.
And as it turned out, I had more of my mom’s and Skylar’s Wives Who Lunch instincts than I thought.
When Dad started peppering Hak-kan with follow-up questions about the prospectus VIP Bai3 had submitted in their bid to buy Glendaver, I took my sister by the arm and asked her to “remind me” about a few strokes. And we managed to lag behind them for the rest of the game.
“Well, it’s going better than I expected—at least from afar,” Skylar observed as we trailed our father and Hak-kan to the last three holes. “I didn’t know how Dad would take your new fiancé’s lack of manners—but then, I suppose Great Granddaddy was a little rough around the edges too.”
“Hak-kan’s not at all like him,” I insisted to Skylar. “Your great grandfather was a flaming racist who spat tobacco and cussed up a storm and, by all accounts, would be spinning in his grave if he could see us right now.”
I didn’t wait for Skylar to confirm or deny, just pressed on with, “I mean, we all know he’d die of a heart attack all over again if he’d lived to see his grandson not only adopt an African orphan but also entertain the notion of selling the family company to a bunch of squint-eyes—that’s how he referred to Asians by the way. I read that memoir he had commissioned from front to back, even if Dad won’t let it see the light of day.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. Your fiancé isn’t anything like Great Granddaddy,” Skylar cast me an irritated look. “But I swear, he must be wearing off on you. You’re as prickly as a pincushion these days.”
