“I know. I just feel like . . .”
“Someone has to be the do-gooder at the company,” Max supplied. It was interesting how heavy a yoke duty was for Sebastien, the younger son, who should by rights be fucking off to have orgies in the Mediterranean—or perhaps cavorting around a library, which was more Seb’s style.
“Anyway,” Seb said, “I didn’t mean all that about you being a playboy. Well, I did. But I knew you weren’t going to turn your back on me. I was just . . . worked up to tell you. To tell anyone.”
“Am I the first person you’ve told?” That was flattering.
“Well, technically, you’re the second.”
Max tried to think who Seb would have told. His brother had always been a bit of a loner. He had some friends who— Hang on. “Oh my god! You’re seeing someone!”
“I am not,” Seb said, but he was blushing furiously.
“Who is it?” Max started shoving Seb’s shoulder, because apparently, he had regressed to age twelve. Seb shook his head. “So you’re going to drop this bomb on me, but you’re not going to tell me who.”
Seb smirked. “That is correct.”
Max’s mind started sifting through the possibilities, but the sobering truth was that he didn’t really know that much about his brother’s life. “Is it someone I know?”
Seb smiled all at once, as if it was a reflex, but then schooled his face.
“It is!” Max exclaimed.
“Well, you don’t know him know him. You know of him, I think.”
There went the smile again. Damn. His brother was smitten. Max was dying to know who it was, but he refrained from pushing. He would mount an investigation later.
They talked about the mine project until they arrived at the airfield. As Max cut the engine and turned to Seb, Seb said, “So we’re . . . okay?”
“Yes,” Max said emphatically. “We are grand.” He unbuckled himself, leaned over, and planted a purposefully slobbery kiss on Seb’s temple. “We are grand, and you are grand, and I love you.” He was so damn glad he had his brother back.
Perhaps Seb’s confession had primed Max to be extra emotional. Or perhaps he was that excited to see Dani. Either way, he found himself practically buzzing with anticipation when a small plane appeared in the distance.
They watched as the plane landed and taxied. A stairway dropped, and a few minutes later there she was, paused at the top of the stairs, one hand wrapping a bright-red scarf around her neck, the other arm tucking Max Minimus into her side. Something inside Max settled into place. She caught sight of him and smiled as she set the dog down. He bounded down the steps and headed straight for Max, yapping all the way.
“Hello, my little friend,” Max cooed, stooping to pick him up and chuckling when Max Minimus started licking his face. “Lovely to see you, too, my good boy.”
“What is happening?” Seb asked with wonder in his voice. “Who are you?”
Max, suddenly aware that he was not the type of person who got all mushy with tiny dogs, cleared his throat and straightened, trying to recapture some dignity. Normally, he would have swept Dani up in a hug, but he settled for a quick, formal kiss on the cheek on account of Seb’s scrutiny, though it did occur to him that his brother had told him a huge secret and here Max was being conservative in greeting his platonic friend. It was just that Seb would misinterpret. Max performed introductions while Max Minimus relieved himself. It was strange seeing Seb and Dani together. Between the two of them, Max felt so . . . tethered. In a good way—as if he owed these people something, but that owing was not unwelcome.
A steward arrived with Dani’s bag and Max Minimus’s crate and loaded them into the car. Max held the door for Dani. “Your holiday awaits, milady.”
Riems was charming. As they drove to Max and Sebastien’s family estate through the darkening night, they had to pass through the city itself, and Dani couldn’t help but exclaim over the narrow cobblestone streets and the half-timbered architecture that looked like something out of a storybook. It was November, so lots of the shops had twinkly Christmas lights up.
The von Hansburg brothers were pretty darn charming, too. She already knew that about Max, of course, but his younger brother was friendly and warm, if a bit shy. The fact that he’d come along to pick her up was such a nice gesture.
“We’re not that far out of town,” Max said as the stone buildings started to thin and eventually disappeared in favor of countryside. “It’s a thirty-minute walk if you’re ever inclined to make a prison break.”
“If you’re ever inclined to make a prison break, you merely have to call on me, Daniela,” Sebastien said with exaggerated courtliness.
“I meant if she needs a break from us,” Max said.
“Ah, yes.” Sebastien sobered. “Well, at least Mother and Father are absent.”
Dani had been relieved by the news that Max’s parents would be away. She was morbidly curious about them, these people who had raised Max, and tormented him, too, but glad she didn’t have to meet them until the wedding.
The estate was beautiful. Riems was in a valley—you could see mountains on all sides in the distance, the tallest of them capped with snow. One was smaller and closer than the others, and the estate was nestled at its foot in a landscape of gardens—mostly barren for the season, but she imagined they were lovely in the summer—surrounded by forest.
“We’ll drop you at the main house,” Max said to his brother.
“Daniela is staying with you at the cottage?” Sebastien asked, and if Dani wasn’t mistaken, he was surprised, though there hadn’t been censure in his tone.
“She is,” Max said mildly. “We’ll come up to the house and have dinner with you, though. I’ve already made arrangements with Frau Bittner.”
They said goodbye to Sebastien, and Max turned the car down a gravel-lined road that led away from the house, which was an enormous, multi-winged, imposing stone thing with red tiled roofs. “Max, does your brother think we . . .” She waved her hand back and forth between them.
“Oh, probably. I would have corrected him, but I didn’t want to give away the surprise.”
“What surprise?”
“He’ll come over later and see it and be assured that nothing is happening between us,” Max said, ignoring her question. He waggled his eyebrows. “Your fruitcake is safe under my roof.”
“Why is it my fruitcake that’s safe from you? I thought you and I were about equal-opportunity slutting around.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Touché.” He looked at her for a beat too long—she was about to tell him to keep his eyes on the road—and said, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She was, too.
Max’s cottage was perfect. There was no other word for it. It was small and made of the same stone as the main house, and it was crisscrossed with vines. Max led her to a big, weathered wooden door with an oxidized knocker shaped like a lion’s head and unlocked it with a long, skinny key that looked like a prop from a haunted house more than an actual functional key.
“Here we are,” he said with obvious pleasure as he took her coat. “This was originally what I think English speakers would call a dower house, but it hasn’t been occupied by a dowager since my father’s mother died—before I was born.”