They all stand. George shakes my hand. “Hello, Claire, lovely to meet you.”

His mother kisses my cheek. “Hello, dear, so glad you could join us.”

I smile awkwardly, and Emily grabs me into an embrace and chuckles. “I am absolutely thrilled to meet you,” she gasps.

I giggle into the embrace . . . okay, she isn’t what I imagined.

Jameson smiles and then leans in and kisses my cheek. “Lovely to meet you, Claire. I’ve heard so many good things.” He gives me a genuine smile, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Oh, thank God . . . he’s not as scary as I thought.

“Just so you all know, I am Claire’s favorite Miles. Just putting it out there,” Christopher says as he raises his champagne glass to me.

“Actually, I am,” Tristan replies deadpan as he pulls my chair out.

I smile and take a seat next to Emily.

Tristan sits beside me and takes my hand on my lap for reassurance.

I love him.

“So, Claire,” George addresses me as the group listens in. “You own Anderson Media?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Very impressive.”

“Thank you.”

He smiles warmly. “I knew your husband. He was a good man.”

“He was.”

“I attended his funeral. It was a beautiful service.”

I smile sadly, wishing the conversation hadn’t gone this way.

Tristan squeezes my hand, and I gratefully squeeze it back.

Elizabeth changes the subject. “So you have children?”

Oh fuck . . . this is the night from hell. “Yes.” I smile. “Three boys.”

“How do they like Tristan?” Christopher laughs. “I hope they’re giving him a run for his money.”

“It would be payback if they did,” George mutters dryly. “He was a coot of a kid.”

The group laughs, and I feel a little more at ease.

“Do you want to go and get a drink?” Tristan asks me.

“Yes, please,” I answer a little too eagerly.

“I’ll come,” Emily says. She’s attractive and lovely—naturally beautiful and refreshingly unpretentious.

We stand and make our way to the bar. “What do you want, babe?” Tris asks.

“Fucking anything,” I whisper back.

“Okay, drunk and disorderly in front of my parents, coming right up,” he replies.

I grab his hand and pull him back to me as he goes to walk off. “On second thought, one drink. Don’t let me drink any more than that. Being drunk here is my worst nightmare.”

He and Emily chuckle, and he turns to her. “What do you want, Em?”

“Bubbles, please.”

Tristan disappears to the bar, leaving me alone with Emily. “It’s pretty nerve-racking meeting them, isn’t it?” Emily says.

Relief fills me—she’s normal. “God, I know. I’m so nervous.”

She takes my hand. “Don’t be; they’re really lovely. Not at all what you think.”

“Thanks.” I smile gratefully. “So . . .” I frown. “You’re married?”

“Yes, Jay and I got married three months ago.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” She smiles. “Still in the honeymoon phase. Tristan told me that you live on Long Island?”

“Yes, it’s a ways out of New York but great for the boys.”

“Oh, well, we live in New Jersey.”

“Really?” I ask in surprise.

“We stay in New York maybe two nights a week at most. I wanted to get Jay out of the city and into a more relaxed lifestyle.”

“He’s stressed?” I frown.

“God.” She rolls her eyes. “Massively. His workload is ridiculous. He’s a lot better since we got married, and he works from home on Fridays now.”

I stare at her in a state of shock. This is not what I expected at all. The Miles Media group has always seemed so invincible . . . never in a million years would I imagine the CEO is battling stress, although it’s totally understandable that he is.

Tristan reappears with our drinks and puts his arm around me and kisses my temple. “Are you all right?”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“Well, there’s an ugly face if I ever saw one,” I hear a deep English male voice say.

We all turn to see two men walking toward us. One is blond and gorgeous. The other is tall, dark, and handsome. “Hey.” Tristan laughs out loud as he pulls them into an embrace.

My eyes flick to Emily, and she laughs too.

The three men laugh, and then Tristan introduces us. “Claire, please meet Spencer Jones and Sebastian Garcia, my friends from London. And you both know Emily. Jameson and Sebastian met in Italy at college.”

“I’ve been trying to get rid of them ever since.” Sebastian smiles with a wink.

Tristan puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me close, and Emily laughs. “How are my favorite London villains?” she asks.

It’s obvious she knows them quite well.

“Very well,” Spencer replies. He has this boyish-charm thing going on. He turns his attention back to Tristan. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve been here,” Tristan replies. He tips his champagne glass toward me. “With Claire.”

Sebastian’s eyes come to me, and then he snaps his fingers, as if remembering something. “Did you two meet in France?”

“This is her.” Tristan smiles broadly. Wait . . . what? He’s told them about me?

I glance over to Emily, and she hunches her shoulders, as if excited.

Sebastian glances over and sees Jameson talking to some men and walks up and grabs him in a headlock from behind. They laugh loudly. “Back in a minute,” Tristan whispers, and he and Spencer join them.

The four men laugh as they talk, and I watch them for a moment. “Who are they?” I ask.

“They are the naughtiest men in all of England,” Emily whispers. “And the most gorgeous.”

“God,” I whisper as I watch them. I have never seen such handsome men all in one place. All of them are freaking delicious. “You’re not wrong.”

“Spencer Jones is the world’s biggest player.”

“He’s the blond?” I ask.

“That’s him. Ridiculously good looking, isn’t he?”

“The other one is more gorgeous. What’s his name again?” I ask.

“Sebastian Garcia. His marriage just broke up recently.”

“Really? He’s a player too?” I frown.

“No, his wife slept with their gardener.”

“What?” I frown as I look at the beautiful man. He’s tall, dark, and European. “Is she mad?” I gasp.

“Apparently.” She shrugs. “Must be absolutely off her fucking tree,” she mutters.

I giggle, and Emily smiles and clinks her glass with mine. “It’s so good to finally meet you,” she whispers as she again takes my hand in hers.