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sister Jaime had taken a break from reforming cacao labor practices long enough to get engaged to chocolatier rebel Dominique Richard about six months later, forcing the two archrivals into much closer contact than they could stand. And that had really pissed the Paris gourmets off. They had accused Corey Chocolate of trying to breed the quality out of them. So far the two men had managed to avoid killing each other, a restraint that was indubitably to Sylvain’s credit. Nobody ever credited Dom with avoiding violence.
    â€œThird cousins,” Sylvain said. “I guess they still invite each other to weddings because they don’t have that many other cousins and the common last name gives some sense of attachment.”
    â€œHer great-grandfather was my great-grandfather’s older brother.” Heels clicking on the smooth parquet floor, Cade came up to give Luc a kiss on both cheeks. “The one whose barn my great-grandfather burned down when he was inventing a way to make milk chocolate. I guess the two of them were so intent on proving to each other they were right about the way to make a fortune that my great-grandfather managed to start a major chocolate company while her great-grandfather acquired endless acres, and each generation kept building from there. Our side was winning for a little while, until her father became one of the world’s investment geniuses and shot their wealth into the stratosphere.”
    It was hard to believe Cade could be related to Summer, even as third cousins. Although only a centimeter or two taller than Summer, Cade felt infinitely taller—as if there was nothing in the world that wouldn’t yield to her when she walked straight into it with her chin up. Cade’s hair was a straight light brown, and her blue eyes too direct for Summer’s lagoon brilliance. If you tried to swim in Cade’s blue eyes lazily, she’d strip you of all your assets, restructure you, and move in new management within the first few strokes.
    Summer, on the other hand . . . would probably disappear like a mermaid into a glint of sun on a wave, dancing away.
    â€œYou do realize it’s a bit surreal for Luc, Dom, and me,” Sylvain told his wife, “when someone hands you a top luxury hotel as a Christmas present.” All of them had worked with relentless determination and perfectionism to climb to the pinnacle of their professions.
    Cade’s expression cooled. “I worked, Sylvain.”
    Luc and Dom flicked her incredulous looks, Luc’s so subtle that she probably missed it, Dominique’s as brusquely open as everything else about him. Cade’s lips tightened.
    â€œNot to climb, though.” Sylvain grinned. “Not until you had to work so hard for me, of course. That was a definite step up.”
    Cade rolled her eyes, and Sylvain laughed and stretched a hand toward her. A subtle gesture, but it was enough. Cade shifted into that curve of his hold as naturally and easily as breathing.
    Dom looked across the room instinctively toward Jaime, who had fallen into conversation with Summer. Luc followed his gaze because it gave him an excuse to look in Summer’s direction.
    Jaime’s passion fruit–caramel hair had reached a sophisticated bob length now, after the violent attack that had made headlines in the chocolate world. The bob didn’t suit her. If any adult woman should have her hair in two braids down her back, it was the extraordinarily freckled Jaime. When Luc had first met her, her wrist bones had stuck out, but six months of Dom’s chocolate had put the flesh back on her, and she and Dom both had a glow that made Luc want to hang his head and kick something as sullenly as he used to when he was a kid in the Métro. Of all of them, Dom was the last man he would have thought would find such cozy, codependent happiness.
    Instead of which, Luc was the last man. He didn’t show even an inkling of his jealousy,