The glass elevator ascends to the apex of the illustrious headquarters of Vacheron Enterprises.
My stomach clenches, my pulse drumming beneath my skin. Dad stands ahead of us and my brothers flank me like bodyguards. My fingers dig into my palms so hard it begins to hurt. I release them and once I do. Silas loops his pinkie finger around mine, and Luciano does the same to my other hand—an instant bout of buoyancy, drawing solace from them both.
