Vain (The Seven Deadly, #1)(59)

“Simon!” Ian called out, startling me.

He dropped our bags just inside and walked with purpose through the picturesque living room to the glass wall. He slid one panel into another until they met the sidewall and exposed us to the rich sea air. The salt blasted my skin and I reveled in the tangible feeling. The ebb and flow of the incredible ocean at the base of the mountain settled my nerves almost immediately. It was then I knew Ian had done this on purpose.

“Thank you,” I told him.

“It was the only thing that worked for me growing up here.”

I hugged his side as we looked over our surroundings.

“Did you miss it?” I asked him.

“Not even one iota.”

The tranquil-looking pool below us boasted an iridescent black tile floor and I found myself almost frightened of it. I imagined it would swallow me whole and I would sink into its dark abyss if I ever dared place a toe in that grim water.

“Ian!” I heard behind us.

We both turned and I took in an older, slightly taller version of Ian. He was more tan than my Ian with shorter, more clean-cut hair, though I think that was only because Ian didn’t have a barber at his disposal as readily as Simon did. He sported impeccable clothing with a European flair. All in all, Simon was gorgeous, but he lacked a fire in his eyes that Ian possessed. Yes, Ian was infinitely more beautiful. Girls could keep Simon Aberdeen. I had Ian.

“Simon!” Ian shouted.

Simon scooped up Ian and tossed him around playfully. He greeted him in, what I assumed was, Afrikaans. They exchanged greetings and I stood awkwardly against the railing wishing to everything holy I could have understood them. I perked up only when Simon eyed me before gesturing and asking Ian another question in Afrikaans.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Soph. Excuse me,” he said, meeting me and wrapping my hand in his then pulling me over to meet his brother.

“Simon, this is Miss Sophie Price. Sophie, this is my brother, Simon.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” I said, extending my hand.

Simon bent and grabbed it with a wink my direction and kissed my palm cheekily. “A pleasure, Miss Price, I’m sure.” He righted himself. “Ian’s told me so much about you. I feel like I know you already.”

“He has, has he? What were these things?” I teased back.

“Not necessary!” Ian practically yelled. “Let’s get inside, shall we? Mom and Dad are here?” he asked, practically pushing me back into the living room.

“Nah, shortly though.”

My stomach dropped a little.

“Where are they?” Ian asked.

“Mom’s at a press conference. Dad’s at a meeting. They said they’ll be home by four.”

“So what’s this news I had to travel half a day to hear?”

“It would sort of be anti-climatic, don’t you think, if I just blurted it out there?”

“I suppose so.”

“I’ll tell you at dinner.”

“Mom and Dad don’t know then.”

“No, you’ll all find out together.”

Ian eyed him curiously. “Where are we eating?”

Simon cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling. “Aubergine’s.”

“Dear Lord, this is serious,” Ian stated.

Simon sighed, running his hands through his dark hair. He sat at the kitchen bar and sank his head into his palms.

He glanced up. “I had to. It’s her favorite place and I need her to be receptive tonight.”

I gazed from one brother to the other. “And what is Aubergine’s?” I asked.

“Aubergine’s is my mother’s favorite restaurant,” Ian explained. “The rest of us hate it. They serve ungodly things like trio of quail or abalone with spiced cauliflower mouse. Essentially, disgusting food.”

“Ah, I see,” I answered.

“We only go there when we really need mom to see our side of things.”

“Oh, now I’m dying to know.”

“You wait like the rest of them,” Simon told me. He looked at me like he’d only just really noticed me. “Wait a second. You’re a girl.”

“Astute, this one,” I told Ian, gesturing toward Simon.

“No, no. I mean, I knew you were a girl. You’d be hard-pressed not to notice with a figure like that,” he said and I rolled my eyes, “but that’s not what I meant.”

“Careful, Simon,” Ian gritted.

“You’re the first girl Ian’s ever brought here.”

“Surely not,” I balked Ian’s direction.

“No, you are the very first. Once, in high school he had a party and naturally girls came but he has never brought a singular girl here...ever. This-this is good. You’ll take some of the heat off me.”

Ian ran a hand down his face and blew out a breath. “Simon, must you always humiliate me?”

“I am sorry, little brother,” he said, standing and hooking his arm around Ian’s neck.

Ian shook him off but smiled. It was the first time I’d ever seen Ian really vulnerable, almost child-like, and I liked it. I supposed Masego was a “forced to act mature” kind of place. I was glad to see him young, to see that creased brow relax, even if it was just for a small amount of time. Ian so obviously carried around Masego’s worries on his strong twenty-year-old shoulders and they were more than capable of handling the weight, but everyone needs a break now and then.