Half an hour and two outfit changes later, she and Niobe were being seated inside of The Chase on Bay Street. Sitting on the ground floor while its sister restaurant was situated five floors up, the venue was bright and warm with rustic wood and accents of glass, the palate bright and nautical.

Long trestle tables added a feeling of intimacy and conjured memories of large family dinners, perfectly placed facing the glass walled kitchen allowing those seated a view of the production. The adjoining patio was simple and stunning, and on a day like today, entirely welcome.

"We've got a lot of work to do with planning this wedding. Three months isn't a lot of time. And I barely know where to start. I know," she answered, catching Victory's arched brow. "You'd think, of all people—I would, but for some reason I'm so overwhelmed and scatterbrained. Doesn't help that we're pushing the envelope with the deadline set for only twelve short weeks. Every time I attempt to sit down and hammer out details, I feel like a guinea pig running in circles. I'm lost, Vee, utterly lost."

"That's what a wedding planner is for," Victory assured, stroking a hand in circles along Niobe's back as they waited to be seated. "Tomorrow we could start with tracking down the best in the business, but I think I have someone great in mind. Isabel Snowden is my event coordinator and she's fantastic. A real lifeline, and has some serious notches under her belt to show she has the chops to handle anything you can throw at her. I've invited her out tonight so you could pick her brain a bit over dinner."

And that, Victory saw, put the glimmer of hope back in Niobe's slightly panicked eyes.

"That would be incredible. Sensational. I knew you'd say just the right thing to help put me at ease." The server appeared with a smile and steered them towards a table set out on the patio, basking in equal parts of sun and shade.

"Anyhow, the first thing I figure I need to do is secure the venue." Setting down her purse in the wooden seat of the banquette, Niobe slid in. "Can't have a wedding if we don't know where it's going to be held. So I dug up a couple places online while you were having a shower. I think I'll set up the appointments for next week and we can begin knocking them off the list. Hopefully I'll have it whittled down by the time Sam gets here."

The sparkle was back, and Victory could barely contain her sigh as she reached out and took Niobe's hand for a quick squeeze.

"You look happy, Bee."

"I am. Samuel is amazing and I absolutely cannot wait for you to meet him. I'm getting married!" She pressed her hands to her cheeks, just a little flushed and eyes bright.

"I have to ask," sitting down, Victory scooted her seat forward, tucking her knees under the table, "why don't you just have the wedding at the Sphinx? It's grand, opulent and you know the owners, so I'm sure you'd get a fantastic discount."

Smiling, Niobe ripped off a chunk of the sourdough bread from the breadbasket the server dropped off, slathering on the roasted red pepper and garlic aioli. "Because Paige has her heart set on getting married there, and I don't want to take that away from her. She should have her moment—her memories—in the hotel Matthias designed as homage to their love for each other."

"When you put it like that," Victory agreed with a thoughtful incline of her head, raising her glass of ice water the server has just finished pouring for a sip. "Which is first on your list?"

Deferring to the notes she'd saved in her blackberry, Niobe scrolled through. "P&D Designs. From the website, it looks like an urban loft, all white on white on white, leaving a blank canvas for clients to create whatever they want, which resonates loudly with my artistic sensibilities." She beamed, fingers practically itching to get started. "The owners, Patricia and Dylan Beran, are interior designers, and have done everything from corporate parties, celebrity engagements and weddings."

"Sounds like a great start."

"I just hope its large enough considering our guest list is bound to be...exorbitant, with all of Sam's friends and connections." Niobe sighed with a shake of her head. "But appearances must be maintained when marrying an international film star. And speaking of guests, will there be a plus one I need to add to that list?" she asked, her eyes winking deviously.

"Oh, there will be plenty of time before we need to worry about that little detail." Closing the subject, Victory opened her menu, scanned her options.

And men was certainly not one of them.

#

Sucking the tip of his thumb, Gage cursed. That was the second time today he'd clipped himself with the hammer.

"Serves you right," he muttered, examining the tip where he'd split the nail. "Get your mind back on the job." Positioning the nail between his fore and middle finger he rapped the head with the hammer, then, moving his hand this time, drove it home into the wood framing.

Hard to keep his mind on work when the mysterious vixen with wicked legs strutted through his mind throughout the night, keeping him tossing and turning with all sorts of...ideas. Ideas that had him waking with the notion of abandoning his usual protocol for high profile events and making an unscheduled appearance at the soft-opening tomorrow in the hopes of catching sight of the elusive beauty he couldn't shake from his thoughts.

Desire and common sense warred within him for the better part of the day and it was hard to argue facts when, even now, he could almost smell the spicy hit of her perfume burning away logic, keeping him so absorbed he didn't hear the sound of his name shouted above the roar of Kings of Leon.

A slap of a hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his reverie, and he spun around in question only to stare into a face so similar to his own.

"Shit," he smiled, stooping to turn down the volume from ear shattering to a crooning whisper then swung into a manly hug. Roarke may have edged him out by a year, but Gage had him by a couple of inches in height, though standing side by side few could see the difference. Close enough in appearances to pass for twins, and often had in their youth when they'd played on their similar features.

But today both men were as different as could be.

Roarke, all sleek and tailored polish, from his clean shaved face, trimmed hair and immaculate wardrobe to contrast Gage, sporting his usual haze of scruff, battered jeans and hair in need of more than a trim.

"When did you guys get here?" he asked, releasing his brother so he could embrace Matthias next.

"Just this morning." Matthias replied, brushing one ring covered hand over his length of hair, the bottom half a bright gold against the top half of rich chestnut, then slipped his hands into jean pockets. The deep aubergine brushed velvet blazer he wore, complete with gold filigree buttons and a silver dangling earring in his left lobe, was the sort of bold statement Matthias was known for, and contrasted the crisp white linen shirt beneath, giving him the air of a sophisticated pirate.

All tawny and dangerously compelling.

The women always went crazy for him, and were sure to be weeping around the world the day Matthias had met and fell in love with Paige Davenport.

"Samuel and Jackson here yet?" Gage asked. "Tristan?"

"No, Sam and Jay are flying in together on the private jet, courtesy of HBO, whom they're sitting down with next week to begin the first round of meetings with the casting directors, show producers to discuss the roles in question."

"Oh?" Gage shifted his eyes from his brother to Matthias. "I thought Paige gave carte blanche when it came to selecting the male leads?"

"She did. It's pretty much a done deal," Roarke shrugged, "but the network felt, for the sake of appearances," he added with air quotes, "it was best to adhere to the usual formalities, to avoid speculation."

Hollywood, Gage thought with a shake of his head. Nothing but fake smiles and a lot of bullshit, but that was the business, and the price of a passion he had never quite acquired a taste for, unlike Roarke who lived for the camera. Each character, each film became a part of his brother, just as the same was true for Gage with every building.
Chapter Three

"We've been swamped since we touched down, glad-handing with a few of our key investors," Matthias explained, "going over permits and paperwork, but now we're here to see how it's all coming together."

"Almost the home stretch." Roarke gleefully rubbed his hands together, excited at the prospect. "It's been years of Grayson here, pushing and prodding, trying to talk me into the joining him with the hotel business, and now that I have I gotta say I'm pretty psyched to see when the place is all gussied up."

"Are you too busy to give us the walk through now?"

"You caught me at a good time," Gage smiled at Matthias, punching the call button for the elevator. The doors popped opened with a melodious chime, the inside lined with brilliant mirrors and a thick red carpet. "For now we have the VIP elevator operational in tandem with the service lift. We'll use this as the other is likely stuffed with furniture, supplies, men, or all three." Inside, he punched for the top floor.

"How do we stand on the timeline?" Matthias asked, leaning against the mirrored wall.

"We're nearly there." Gage smiled, shifting his weight to the right, thumbs hooked in his front pockets, the jeans worn at the stress points, splattered with putty and paint. "Inspector Harris should give us the 'all clear' tomorrow."

As the car rolled to an easy stop, with barely even so much as a whisper of movement to indicate they'd just bulleted up near fifty floors, the gleaming gold doors parted to reveal a lobby of pristine white marble, shimmering silk wall paper. Overhead, a long row of lighting that gave the illusion of looking up and out at the sky.

"This floor has three of the most extravagant suites the Sphinx has to offer." Gage stepped out, and held the door for Matthias and his brother. "The smallest, just around fifteen hundred square feet, and the largest almost twice that." He walked them through each of them, starting with the smallest.

"Here, we named the rooms instead of providing numbers. This one is Anuket, the goddess of the Nile. In artwork, she was usually shown as a gazelle, so we had this custom headboard made." Inside the bedroom, Gage slapped a hand on a carved piece of ebony he'd worked hand in hand on with the designers from New York. "We wanted to give the illusion and shape of the animal without adhering to actual photorealistic representation. Within the grain of wood are ribbons of hammered silver running along the seams."

He lead them across the bedroom, his footfalls echoing on the slabs of creamy marble tile, staggered with strips of obsidian slate, to a glass case with shelves and pieces of art on display.

"Over here we have the historical antique replicas procured from Cairo. Gold coins, a feathered headdress fashioned for a statue of Anuket. We kept the colour palate cool, with the soft pale, pale blue and grey, accents of white and black with lots of glass and crystal, to imitate sunlight bouncing off the surface of water."

"Hm." Matthias nodded, his sharp tawny eyes taking in every detail and missing nothing. "It's lovely. Really exceptional. You've outdone yourself in here. The woodwork, molding and trim is fantastic. I like the architectural touches you've added with the cut-outs, giving sightlines into the lounge, and here, with the frosted glass wall etched in hieroglyphs. Really adds something."

"I thought so." Gage agreed, brushing a hand over the rippling glass. "And the bathroom, we've lowered the tub into the floor to recreate the feel of the ancient Egyptian bathhouse, as we've done in all three of the suites. Rain shower heads, body jets, glass mosaic crystals, accent pillars brushed in pale gold, vessel bowl sinks, a ton of marble, heated floors. It's a veritable oasis."

Across the hall, they veered right, the doors yet to be installed on the hinges, into the second suite, where a worker was hanging the brass plaque.

"The second suite, in honour of Neuth, the goddess of the sky." Gage explained. Here, the suite carried a soft palate in varying shades and textures of white while the walls were a rich and deep sapphire, so deep and blue it was almost black as the sky on the verge of twilight. Artwork adorned the walls, anchoring the space, and Roarke paused to admire the grass woven area rug set beneath the bed.

"Here we have this bronzed hammered headboard, again, a loose representation of the sun. As Neuth was believe to swallow Ra, the sun God, every evening thus creating night. The bronze was treated so its gradient shifts here, at the edges, from this black metallic to the bright, rich coppery hue at the base. Gives the feel of encroaching night. We kept the walls dark so that everything else leaps into the foreground. Again, the glass hieroglyph accent wall, only this time, dividing the bedroom from the adjoining private seating area. Down the hall is the second bedroom and between them is the lounge and kitchen, overlooking the balcony."

"Once more," Matthias nodded, fingering the dangle of the silver charm at her left ear, "not a word of complaint. I'm beginning to understand why you insisted on those few rather extravagant expenditures. Remind me not to question your judgement, or sanity, in future."

Gage smiled, swift and bright. "Bet your ass. And if you liked those two, come, I've saved the best for last." Exiting the suite, he pushed open the double doors at the end of the corridor, unvarnished walnut and teak with polished brass handles, and they stepped into the extravagance of a Carrera marble foyer, dripping with gilded light from the crystal chandelier. "The Isis suite." Inside, the room was still buzzing with power tools, the crooning of Nickelback on the radio, and the scattered curses of men.

"Of the three, this one is still in need of a lot of TLC, but we just finished the master bedroom," Gage explained as he ushered them both away from the mayhem of construction and installation, down the hall, and into a room touched by King Midas.

"Wow." Roarke and Matthias said in tandem, starting at the large golden mosaic laden with 'jewels' Gage had laboured on for nearly three frustrating days, but now, standing there and seeing their reactions, made every tedious second worth it.

"This is an artistic mural created in the image of Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra in her golden dress as the reborn daughter of 'Isis'. These little handcrafted golden feathers are brushed with gold leaf and had to be installed, one by one." Stepping back, he took it in as a whole, admiring the sweep of her winged cape and the angle of her striking face, carved from porcelain and haloed by her headset of cast iron, again covered in gold leaf, glistening with artificial glass jewels to recreate the various gems.

Damn thing had weighed near a hundred pounds if an ounce but, fuck, it was a knockout.

"We've finished the installation of cabinetry in the large kitchen both bathrooms," Gage explained, leading them from the room and into the heart of the suite, where the wall of windows merged at the corner, overlooking the southwest portion of the Toronto cityscape. From here, at this angle and height—as they were the tallest hotel Toronto had to offer—the room had a clear and unobstructed view of the lake, glistening blue under a clear sky and brilliant sun. He stopped at their apex, hands thrust into his pockets to absorb and appreciate.

"The hotel is coming along nicely," Matthias brushed a hand over the still plastic covered couch, crowded by boxes and other wrapped parcels of furniture.

"You've done an exceptional job, bro," Roarke slapped a hand on Gage's shoulder, chest swelling with pride. "Probably the best from you, thus far."

"She was temperamental at first," Gage admitted, skimming his eyes along the freshly covered walls, now taped and ready for paint and wallpaper to be installed tomorrow. He ran a hand over the smoothed mitered edge of the molding trim, the gesture almost affectionate. "But we've come to an understanding and she's finishing the final lap like a champ."

Matthias cocked a brow, exchanged a quick, teasing glance with Roarke. "She?"

"Bro," Roarke sighed, shaking his head in pity, "when you start turning a building into a woman, something's wrong. We need to get you laid. Pronto."

At that, Gage only snorted with laughter. "Fuck you."

"When was the last time you had a hot date? Tore up some sheets?" Matthias prodded, punching his shoulder for emphasis. "Last I heard you mention a woman was near eight months ago. Alessandra, wasn't it? Stewardess from Brazil?"

Threading his fingers through his long tousled mop of gold, Gage sighed. "Yeah, great girl, just no real connection. I'm done with the random and brief. And I don't plan to settle for anything less than exceptional." Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he rocked on his heels, and wondered secretly to himself, where that woman might be.

And when, just when, did she plan on showing up?

"She's out there," he muttered, thoughts drifting back to the sassy little vixen in black with eyes somewhere between molten chocolate and whiskey that suited her smoky voice and sultry laugh.

"And maybe," he added, thumb skimming the curved edge of the card he'd carried with him since. "Maybe we've already met."

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