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The game eventually dissolved as someone convinced the DJ to play slow songs. Couples paired off across the deck—Thor and Mandy swaying together, her crown crooked and his hands gentle on her waist, other Kings with their partners, even some of the prospects had found dance partners among the guests.

I stood alone near the railing, watching the water reflect the lights, pretending I wasn't achingly aware of being single in a sea of couples. The champagne had made everything soft around the edges, including my judgment. When I swayed slightly to the music, I told myself it was the boat's gentle rocking, not an invitation.

"Fuck it."

Tyson's voice came from directly behind me, rough with decision. Before I could turn, his hand caught mine, pulling me away from the crowd toward the shadows by the upper deck stairs. A narrow alcove, barely visible from the main deck, just big enough for two people who didn't mind being close.

"One dance," he said, the words somewhere between command and plea.

"Tyson, we can't—"

"One dance," he insisted, pulling me against him. His hands settled on my waist, warm through the thin fabric. "Just one."

I should have argued. Should have pointed out Duke's suspicion, the danger, the dozen people who might see us. Instead, I melted into him, letting him guide us in a slow sway that had nothing to do with the music and everything to do with need.

My head found his chest like it belonged there, his heartbeat steady under my ear. His arms came around me, holding me like something precious, and for a moment the rest of the world disappeared. No threats, no secrets, no complications. Just us, moving together in our stolen shadow.

"Love you," I whispered into his shirt, the words muffled but clear.

His arms tightened. "Say it again."

"Love you," I repeated, tilting my head back to look at him. "Even when you're being all growly and dominant."

"Especially then," he corrected, that half-smile that made my knees weak. "Love you too, baby girl. Even when you're being a complete—"

I stretched up on my toes to kiss him, swallowing whatever teasing insult he'd been about to deliver. It was supposed to be quick, just a taste to hold us over until later. But his hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheek, and the kiss deepened into something sweet and desperate and perfect.

The world narrowed to this moment—the fairy lights painting patterns on his skin, the distant music mixing with the water's lapping, the way he held me like I might disappear if he let go. I pressed closer, fingers curling into his cut, completely lost in him.

"What the fuck?"

Duke's voice shattered our bubble like a hammer through glass. We sprang apart, but it was too late. Way too late. Dukestood at the entrance to our alcove, Mandy beside him with her mouth hanging open, crown tilted at a drunken angle.

The silence stretched between us, heavy with implications and consequences. Duke's expression was carved from stone, only his eyes showing the depth of his anger—not at the relationship itself, but at the deception. At being lied to by his VP.

Tyson shifted, putting himself partially between me and Duke, that protective instinct overriding everything else. "Duke—"

The night exploded.

Gunfire erupted across the water, sharp cracks that sent everyone diving for cover. Spotlights blazed from speedboats that materialized from the darkness like sharks, engines roaring as they closed in fast.

"DOWN! EVERYONE DOWN!" Tyson's command voice cut through the chaos as he shoved me behind the stairs. His body covered mine as more gunfire rattled across the yacht's hull, the fairy lights exploding in showers of sparks.

Screams mixed with shouts as the Kings scrambled for weapons, prospects herding civilians below deck. I caught glimpses of chaos—Thor shielding Mandy with his body, Duke already armed and returning fire, Wiz directing people to safety with calm efficiency despite the pandemonium.

"Stay down," Tyson growled in my ear, his weight pressing me into the deck. "Don't move until I tell you."

Another volley of gunfire, closer now. Someone was screaming. The smell of gunpowder mixed with fear and spilled champagne. The pretty party lights swung crazily, casting wild shadows as the yacht rocked from the speedboats' wake.

The party was definitely over.

The real danger had just begun.

Chapter 16

Tyson

Thefirstsecondswereeverything.