Rebirth: Love me Again

[EVE]

I arrived at the private jet expecting peace, quiet, and maybe some emotional closure.

What I got instead was my entire family standing on the tarmac like they were about to film a perfume commercial.

I froze.

They didn't.

Damien was wearing sunglasses like he was going undercover, Dante had a stethoscope around his neck, Dean was dressed like he'd walked off a fashion runway in Paris, Mom was radiating couture goddess energy in a fur-lined coat (in May, mind you), and Dad—Dad was holding blueprints.

". . . What are you all doing here?" I asked slowly, like I was trying not to startle a group of wild animals.

Dean waved, his phone in one hand and a fresh juice in the other. "Oh, we're going with you."

I blinked. "To New York?"

"Yes," Mom said, beaming. "We thought it'd be nice. A little family adventure! Just like old times."

"We never had old times like this," I muttered.

"We will now," Dad added proudly, unrolling the massive blueprint across the hood of the car like a general planning a siege. "This is the mansion I'm building for you in Manhattan."

I gawked. "You're building me a mansion in New York City?"

"Of course," he replied like it was obvious. "Where else would the heir of my empire live? In a condo? Like some peasant?"

"Normal people live in condos," I said, deliberately ignoring the part where he'd casually named me the heir of the Frizkiel empire—something my brothers didn't even flinch at, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Exactly," he said with a poker face.

Dean flopped dramatically onto a nearby lounge chair that hadn't been there thirty seconds ago. "Besides, I'm walking the New York Fashion Week in three days. You know, as one of Vogue's top ten breakout faces of the year."

"Dean, you model part-time."

"Full-time fabulous, thank you very much."

Dante stepped forward, adjusting his glasses and looking—God help me—official. "I've been invited to give a guest lecture at Columbia on experimental surgical techniques."

I stared at him. "Since when?"

"Since I emailed them yesterday and offered to bring live demonstration material," he said with a perfectly calm face.

"You mean, like a slideshow?"

"No, like a real cadaver."

I turned to Mom in pure horror. "You're okay with this?"

Mom tilted her chin like a queen accepting tribute. "As long as he doesn't keep it in the hotel bathtub again."

"Again?"

"And I," Damien said, stepping forward and dramatically removing his sunglasses, "have long intended to expand our family's empire into New York."

"What empire?"

He ignored me. "There are untapped markets, alliances to be formed, real estate to seize. Plus, I already bought three corner office buildings in SoHo. I have big plans."

"Like what?"

"Restaurants, nightclubs, possibly a secret bunker. You'll see. Also—" he glanced around as if to make sure the FBI wasn't listening— "I've scheduled a few meetings with the, uh, necessary people."

"What people?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to. But to make it short, I'm building a future for you."

Great. That didn't sound ominous at all.

Mom clapped her hands. "And me? I'll be busy shopping."

"For what? You already own half the country's wardrobe."

"I have to restock my walking shoes. New York is very pedestrian."

"Mom, you wear heels to the kitchen."

She gasped. "You think I can't strut across 5th Avenue in Louboutins?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "This was supposed to be a solo trip."

"Well," Dad said, folding his blueprints, "that was your first mistake. We're a package deal. You go, we go."

"But I—!"

"Besides," Dean cut in, "there are probably a million flies buzzing around over there. You'll need all the help you can get to exterminate them."

I frowned. "Flies?"

"You know," Damien said, already looking halfway to homicidal, "that Victor guy. And your ex."

"Right . . . what about him?" I asked slowly, narrowing my eyes. Were they still planning to kidnap Victor—or worse, murder him in cold blood just for being polite to me?

And regarding Cole . . . I already forgot about him.

"Oh please," Dante muttered. "He literally tried to move into your room."

"Because of the lighting!" I protested.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You know who says that? People who are planning to become your full-time, live-in husband."

Damien made a strangled noise. "Not on my watch."

"We are not dating."

"He brought you snacks shaped like hearts," Mom said serenely.

"Coincidence!"

"He embroidered your initials into his planner."

"That was for scheduling purposes!"

"He signed your mail as 'Yours, Victor.'"

I groaned. "That's just how he talks!"

Damien cracked his knuckles ominously.

Dad opened his phone and whispered, "Call the background check guy again. Make it . . . extensive."

"Oh my god," I whispered. "I'm never escaping."

"You don't have to," Mom said sweetly. "You're our precious baby girl. Why would you want to escape when we're enhancing your life?"

"Enhancing?! This is a hostile family takeover."

Dean grinned. "You've seen nothing yet. I'm thinking we install a skylight in your New York closet. Let in some natural glow."

"I don't have a New York closet."

"You will," Dad said ominously.

I sighed, defeated. "I was supposed to go to New York to work."

"You can work," Dante said encouragingly. "We'll just be . . . supporting you."

"Like a human entourage," Dean added.

"With financial backing," Damien smirked.

"And love," Mom added sweetly, kissing my forehead. "Don't forget the love, darling."

And just like that, it all started to feel less like a nightmare and more like . . . well, chaos wrapped in a warm, slightly invasive hug.

Because underneath all their dramatics and antics and murdery vibes was a deep, unwavering truth: they loved me. Loudly, ridiculously, and often in deeply inconvenient ways.

But they loved me, and I never felt so complete and blessed.

And as I climbed aboard the jet, now carrying enough luggage to open a department store, I realized something:

Maybe this wasn't just my return to New York.

Maybe it was our beginning.

God help the city.