Chapter 56 The First Test
The shock of the kiss—my defiant, transaction-based kiss—froze Jace and Grant just long enough for my mother, Cass, to seize control, her eyes wide with bewildered delight.
"Well, now!" she exclaimed, sweeping us toward the front door. "We can’t have this discussion out here in the cold!"
We were swept into the entryway, Rhys still holding my arm possessively. The sudden blast of heat hit us, along with a deafening cacophony. Standing behind my protective brothers were my step-father, Arthur, a successful man with kind eyes and a stable, quiet demeanor, and Naomi, Jace's wife and the pragmatic accountant.
But the crowd was doubled. Rhys’s family was also present: his mother, Helena—a warm, loving matriarch who was Cass’s closest friend; his oldest brother, Aaron, the grounded VC strategist, and his wife, Chloe; and his other older brother, Elias, the expressive physician, and his wife, Simone.
Then came the children—six of them, all bundled and screaming with excitement: Ivy (6) and Blake (4) from Jace and Naomi; Garrett (9) and Skylar (7) from Aaron and Chloe; and Lucian (5) and Nell (3) from Elias and Simone.
"Aunt El! Aunt El!"
I instantly broke free of Rhys's grasp to kneel and receive their messy hugs, letting the temporary chaos serve as a perfect distraction. Arthur approached Rhys with a calm, genuine handshake—a welcome that cut through the brothers' tension.
"Rhys," Arthur said, his voice measured and respectful. "I'm glad you're here, son. But I hope the emergency didn't derail your entire trip."
"The emergency was contained, Arthur," Rhys replied smoothly, a rare flicker of deference in his tone. "And thankfully, it concluded with a very necessary decision."
Jace and Grant were unrelenting, their attention fixed on the diamond glinting on my finger.
"What is going on, Ellie?" my mother finally asked, her hands pressed together in anxious anticipation. "You said you had big news."
I placed myself securely against Rhys’s side, letting his arm settle firmly around my waist as he had trained me to. I looked up at him, then to my mother, forcing genuine, excited volume into my voice. "We're engaged! Rhys and I are getting married."
Jace’s corporate brain immediately kicked in, assessing the facts. "The ring is... impressive, Vance," he said, shifting from hostile brother to rival analyst. "Three weeks ago, you say? That's fast, even for you."
"When you know, you know," Rhys replied, his voice a low, intimate rumble. He drew me back to his side, resting his palm possessively over my hand.
A moment of silence gave way to twin shrieks of joy. My mother, Cass, and Rhys’s mother, Helena, rushed forward, embracing us both simultaneously.
"Oh, Elowen! I knew it! I knew it!" Mom cried.
Helena, equally overwhelmed, patted Rhys’s face. "Finally, Rhys! Cass and I have been saying since you two were teenagers that you were destined to end up together! You needed someone who could truly challenge you!"
Grant, however, was focused on the technicalities. "Where are you staying? You’re not sharing the guest room?"
"Adjacent rooms," Rhys confirmed. "Arthur and Cass were kind enough to arrange a suite at The Ivy nearby. We will be in Baltimore for the week, as Ellie has to finish this complex project. She needs a secure, quiet space for her analysis."
A week. The word hung in the air, transforming two days of performance into seven days of sustained, high-wire intimacy.
The chaos of the extended family was both a shield and a microscope. Rhys and I had to maintain the illusion of a madly-in-love, newly engaged couple in front of two sets of highly intelligent, highly suspicious families.
The real test came from the children. The younger ones—Nell, Lucian, and Blake—adopted us immediately, using our legs as anchors while their older cousins—Ivy, Skylar, and Garrett—subjected us to rigorous questioning about the proposal.
"Did Uncle Rhys cry?" asked Skylar, the seven-year-old.
"Uncle Rhys never cries," Garrett, the oldest, stated with authority.
"He was very earnest," I said, leaning into Rhys, who instantly supplied the correct non-verbal cue: a soft, possessive smile.
I watched Rhys interact with them. He was patient and strangely gentle, allowing 3-year-old Nell to climb onto his shoulders while he discussed mergers with Aaron and Jace. When 5-year-old Lucian kept touching the diamond, Rhys didn't recoil; he patiently explained the physics of carbon compression and light refraction. The sight of the ruthless corporate titan patiently engaging with the small, sticky hand of his nephew was genuinely disarming.
Later, while Rhys was briefly cornered by Elias to discuss a medical investment, the six children conspired to drag us both into the family room for a mandatory game of 'Floor is Lava.' The sudden demand for play forced an unplanned physical intimacy. I found myself hoisting four-year-old Blake onto the arm of the sofa while Rhys, with surprising agility, swung six-year-old Ivy onto his back, using his powerful shoulders to elevate her high above the imaginary danger.
For fifteen minutes, the game reduced the CEO and the analyst to simple, joyful uncles. Rhys’s laughter—rare, deep, and unforced—mingled with mine as he dodged a pair of small, flying pillows thrown by Garrett and Skylar. He was completely focused on their safety and their joy, the mask of the corporate killer momentarily dissolving. This display of genuine, protective warmth made the erotic tension between us—the knowledge of the power he held and the raw, physical memory of our night in Monaco—thicker and more complicated.
A brief moment of privacy arrived when Cass called everyone to the dining room. I was about to follow Rhys when Jace and Grant stepped into the hallway, flanking me instantly.
"Wait a second, Ellie," Jace said, his voice dropping to the low, strategic murmur he reserved for high-risk talks. "Arthur took Mom and Helena into the kitchen. We need five minutes."
Grant was less diplomatic. "Is this what you really want? Did he force you into this? You're not yourself."
I squared my shoulders, adopting my own corporate armor. "It's what I want, Grant. I'm busy, he's busy. We accelerated the timeline. End of story."
Jace’s eyes were narrowed in sharp focus. "Fine. We will deal with Rhys. But you need to understand the optics of this. When Owen gets here—and he is on his way—he is going to be uncontrollable. You know how he feels about Rhys's control, and you know how he feels about you. He will view this as the ultimate betrayal."
Jace was right. Owen, the most volatile and protective of my brothers, was also Rhys’s closest and most loyal friend. The announcement, far from providing security, was a psychological weapon aimed at destabilizing my family.