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"Not changing," I corrected carefully. "Just . . . adding to what's already there."

He studied me with those sharp eyes. "That's why you work. Both of you too stubborn to change for anybody. Just found someone worth adding to the picture." A pause, weighted. "He's planning something."

My heart stuttered. "Duke—"

"Not my place to say what." He spun me, using the movement to cut off my questions. "Just be ready. When Tyson decides something, he doesn't do it half-assed."

The music shifted again, slow and sweet. Couples paired off, swaying together in that way that made single people feel extra alone. But I wasn't alone for long.

"My turn." Tyson appeared like smoke, polite but firm. Duke surrendered me immediately.

“All yours, brother.”

Tyson pulled me close, closer than proper, one hand splayed possessively on my lower back. We fit together like puzzle pieces, my head finding that spot on his chest that seemed designed for it. Around us, other couples danced, but we might as well have been alone.

"Missed you," he murmured into my hair.

"I was right here." But I pressed closer, understanding. Even in the same room, the distance felt wrong. "Duke says you're planning something."

"Duke talks too much." His hand traced patterns on my back, innocent to observers but making me shiver. "But yeah. I am."

"Want to share?"

"Not yet." He pulled back enough to meet my eyes. "But soon. Need to say this first though. Want this. All of it."

My breath caught. "Tyson . . ."

"Not asking here," he clarified quickly. "Not stealing Thor's thunder. Just . . . need you to know. You're it for me, wildflower. My everything. The reason I wake up, the last thing I think about at night. My home."

Tears pricked my eyes. "You can't just say things like that when my mascara isn't waterproof."

"Sure I can." He thumbed away a tear that escaped, infinitely gentle. "You're mine, Lena. In every way that matters. Just need to make it official."

"I'm already yours," I whispered. "Have been since forever."

"Yeah?" His eyes darkened. "Say it again."

"I'm yours," I repeated, watching his pupils dilate. "Completely. Permanently. Violently yours."

He made a sound low in his throat, grip tightening. "Careful, baby. Keep talking like that and we'll miss the cake cutting."

"Promises, promises." But heat pooled low in my belly, responding to that tone. That look. That barely leashed control that said he was counting minutes until he could get me alone.

"Ladies!" The DJ's voice boomed. "Time for the bouquet toss! Single ladies to the floor!"

"Go," Tyson commanded, stepping back reluctantly. "Before Mandy hunts you down."

I joined the cluster of single women, some eager, some dragged by friends. Mandy stood with her back to us, bouquet held high, milking the moment. The countdown started—three, two, one—

The flowers hit me square in the chest. Not even close to subtle, a direct strike that left no room for interpretation. I caught them automatically, purple roses and white lilies tied with silver ribbon.

The room erupted. Whistles, catcalls, Tyson's brothers making extremely inappropriate suggestions about what came next. But I only had eyes for him, standing at the edge of the dance floor with heat and promise written across his face.

"Let's get out of here," he said, appearing at my side before the cheering even died.

"But the party—"

"Now, Lena." The command in his voice made my core clench, responding to that particular tone that meant plans and possession and very good things in my immediate future.