Elara looked down at her. “The Aristotles will be joining us.”
The name settled between them.
“The who?”
“The Aristotle family,” Elara said. “Leander Aristotle, his wife Celeste, and their son Damon.”
Rosette blinked once.
Then she sat up slowly, the sheet falling around her waist.
“That sounds less like a family vacation and more like a board meeting with champagne.”
Elara’s expression softened.
“It is still a family trip.”
Rosette gave her a look.
Her mother did not hold it for long.
Rosette leaned back against the headboard and rubbed both hands over her face. The hangover pressed behind her eyes, but beneath it, something sharper began to wake.
“Does Dad know you’re calling this a family trip?”
“Your father believes it is important.”
“My father believes everything is important when it comes with a surname he can use.”
“Rosette.”
Rosette dropped her hands and looked toward the balcony curtains. Outside, the afternoon sun was bright. Too bright for a bedroom like hers. Too bright for the weight settling in her chest.
“What does Magnus Olsen want with the Aristotles?”
Elara did not answer quickly enough.
Her mother rarely lied. She simply softened the truth until it could be swallowed.
“There are business connections,” Elara said. “Shared interests. Your father thinks it would be good for everyone to become acquainted.”
Rosette laughed once.
“Everyone?”
Elara reached for her hand.
Rosette let her take it.
That was the weakness she hated most about herself. No matter how angry she became, she always let her mother touch her.
“You do not have to decide anything today,” Elara said.
Rosette turned to her.
“Decide what?”
A flicker crossed Elara’s face.