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I squeeze his hand. “My family.”
We weave through the crowd, stopping to greet guests along the way. As we approach, Arabella’s laughter rings out, clear and bright.
“West! Amelia!” she calls, waving us over. “Come meet some of our new family members.”
West’s jaw clenches, but he plasters on a smile. “Care to introduce us, Ari?”
Arabella’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Of course, big brother.” She gestures to a young man with striking features. “This is Rafe, Luca’s younger brother.”
Rafe nods, his intense gaze fixed on Arabella. West stiffens beside me. I squeeze his hand to reassure him.
“And over there.” Arabella points to two men standing nearby. “The one with the beard is Romeo Morelli. He owns a sex club.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
I stifle a laugh as West’s eyes widen in shock.
“The other one, with the long hair, that’s Marco Morelli,” Arabella says.
“Junior,” I add. “You’ve met my entire family, and know their names.” Surprise coating my words.
“There’s more. Rafe told—”
She keeps rattling off names as Dom, Henry, and Sam join us.
I notice West isn’t paying attention anymore. His eyes are locked on Rafe, whose gaze is firmly on my new sister-in-law.
I nudge him gently. “Are you okay?”
He blinks and gives a nod to Dom, and I suspect he’s just ordered him to get her away. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just...when did Ari grow up?”
“She’s my age, West. She’s not a little girl anymore.”
“Come on, Dimples, show me how you dance,” Dom says to Arabella.
I follow West’s gaze back to Arabella as Dom takes her hand.
If I was West, I’d be more worried about the way she looks at Dom, not my cousins.
Dom now has her full attention. They’re standing close, heads bent together, oblivious to the world around them. It’s clear there’s a spark between them.
“She’s my little sister,” West says.
“She is, but she’s still not a little girl anymore, West,” I breathe. “She’s a grown woman.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. It’s just hard to see sometimes.”
West’s eyes soften, and he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “Let’s get some air.”
We weave through the crowd. Where we perfect our smiles at the well-wishers as we make our way to the French doors. Outside, the cool evening air is a welcome respite from the warmth of the ballroom.
West leads me down a winding path where fairy lights twinkle in the trees above us. And the sound of waves crashes against the shore.
“It’s beautiful out here,” I murmur, taking in the manicured gardens.
“Not as beautiful as you,” West replies, pulling me close.
I roll my eyes playfully. “Smooth talker.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Only for you, princess.”