Page 30 of Best In Class (Savannah's Best #7)

Now, I wish I was close enough to listen to them castrate the motherfucker with their words .

I see Sam hesitate for a moment, turn, and then stalk away.

I want to pound my chest and tell the world that this amazing woman is mine. She’s fiercely protective of her friends. Not for show. Not for power. But because it’s who she is. The heart beneath the fire.

“Dominic.”

I turn to see the owner of the voice calling my name. A man I loathe.

“A word.” He jerks his head away from the ballroom.

I give Luna’s father a flat smile. “Hard pass.”

He clenches his jaw. “This is important.”

I shrug. No skin off my nose if the son of a bitch wants to talk. He can talk his ass off. I don’t give a shit.

“Why don’t we go to the library.” He’s not asking.

Christ! These people have ballrooms, libraries, and estates! They’re part of the old money structure that Savannah is still being crushed under.

“Lead the way.” I catch Lev’s eye. His chin goes up in inquiry. I shake my head to let him know all is well.

“You don’t belong here,” Nathaniel says the moment the library door closes behind him.

I look around the room. It screams masculinity—dark, heavy, and smug. Leather-bound books no one’s cracked open in decades line the shelves, and the furniture is so old-fashioned it feels musty, despite the sharp scent of polish some poor Steele maid probably used to shine it up for show .

“I don’t belong in this room?” I wave a hand around, purposefully misunderstanding him.

“ With my daughter …you don’t belong with her.”

I walk up to the bar. Yeah, there’s a full bar in the library .

I don’t ask for permission and pour myself a drink. This man thinks I don’t know the truth, but I do. This house, this wealth he’s showing off, is not his—it’s Lev’s and Luna’s.

I raise my glass to him, mockingly, and then sit in one of the leather armchairs. “You were saying?”

If looks could kill, as the cliché goes, I’d be dead as a skunk run over by a grandma late to bingo with a casserole in the backseat.

He steps close to me, low and mean. “You wormed your way back in, didn’t you? Manipulated my daughter into thinking she’s still in love with the help.”

“The help?”

“You, lowlife.”

I take a sip of the alcohol I’d poured into a glass without looking at the label on the bottle. I was doing it for show. But lucky for me, the son of a bitch has good taste in whiskey.

I arch a brow, amusement flickering in my gaze. “Lowlife?”

This man makes me so fucking angry. But I wear a mask of nonchalance. I’ll never give him the pleasure of knowing how afraid I used to be of him, how I now loathe him .

The insult is more effective if he feels I don’t give a shit about him—don’t think about him.

Nathaniel’s jaw tightens. “You’re nothing but a parasite, feeding off my family. Just like your kind has been doing for centuries.”

Racism, no matter how often you come across it, always hurts, always pinches, always shocks because he isn’t merely insulting me, he’s insulting my parents, my forefathers, my history.

“Careful.” It takes an effort to speak calmly, but I do just fine. This isn’t my first rodeo with a racist. “The man who lives in his son’s house rent-free should probably avoid metaphors about leeches.”

That hits.

His nostrils flare. “You have no idea what this family means?—”

“You mean what it used to mean,” a voice says behind us.

I smother a grin.

Lev steps into the room looking composed, but I’ve known him most of my life—he’s anything but. He hates this, every genteel inch of it.

“Dad, you don’t own this estate,” he continues and takes a seat next to me. He extends his hand and I put my glass of scotch in it. “You drank your way through the fortune. I paid off the debts. This house is mine.”

Nathaniel turns red. “You little?—”

“If you ever speak to Dom like that again”—Lev takes a sip of my drink, his tone bored—“I’ll throw your ass off my property. ”

It’s all an act. Lev’s not lazy or disengaged—he’s livid. I’m his brother, and if someone had disrespected him like that, I’d be ready to burn the place down, too.

“I’m your father,” Nathaniel thunders.

“Thanks for the reminder,” Lev continues in the same laconic manner. “But when you behave like a racist asshole, you get treated like one.”

Nathaniel is taken aback, but like all good bigots, he tries to turn it around. “I’m entitled to my opinions.”

“Not in my house.” Lev hands me back the drink. I take it. I note that his hands are trembling, just a little.

Lev’s father’s eyes go stormy. “This is my ?—”

“No, Dad, it’s all mine. Well, some of it’s Luna’s.”

Lev rises. I set my half-finished drink on an antique side table and step up beside him. There’s a tension in the air, sharp and electric—I’ve got a feeling this is about to turn uglier.

“He’s fucking your sister. Don’t you have any pride?” Nathaniel is livid now.

Lev flinches at his father talking about Luna like that. I clench my fists.

“Compared to the man who sleeps in my mother’s bed, the man in my sister’s is one I have the utmost respect for.”

Nathaniel lunges, and it’s like time slows. His hand goes up, fingers curled, rage boiling.

I step between them, catching Lev’s father’s wrist mid-air.

He resists, tries to pull away, but I bench press more than this man weighs in bad intentions .

He’s all brittle bones and bluster—old money and older anger. Physically feeble. Emotionally bankrupt.

I’m solid. Steady. Built from years of work, sweat, and the knowledge that men like him only have power if you let them.

“ Don’t ,” I snap, voice low. “You lay a hand on Lev, and I swear to God, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do in this house.”

Nathaniel tries to yank himself free from my grip, but it’s like trying to pull free from solidified cement. His face goes red, veins bulging, teeth clenched in frustration.

Lev says nothing—but his silence is volcanic.

I hold on just long enough to make sure Nathaniel knows he’s beaten. Then I let go. Not as a favor. As a warning.

But the man’s a fool. Because instead of backing off, he goes for me—proving he didn’t learn a damn thing.

Right on cue, the door to the library swings open. I know it’s Luna, but I don’t turn to look at her. I focus on her father, ‘cause I knew this was coming. Men like Nathaniel Steele never walk away. Pride always takes the lead. And pride always falls.

I sidestep him like a drunk uncle at a wedding trying to start a fight with the DJ.

He stumbles, off-balance from all that misplaced anger and frail pride, and goes down on his ass, hard, on the antique rug with a grunt and a curse.

It’s not elegant. It’s not dignified. But it is damn satisfying.

Lev doesn’t move. I think he’s shocked that his father raised his hand at us. For all his flaws, and God knows, Nathaniel Steele has plenty, he’s never struck anyone, not with Lev as witness.

Now, the hopeless ass glares up at me, winded, fury sputtering in his eyes like a candle too far gone to catch.

“You done?” I ask quietly, my breath steady.

See, old man, I didn’t even break a sweat, and you’re on your ass.

Luna walks up to me and surveys the scene. She’s not alone.

Jenn totters in behind her. “What’s going on in here?” she asks in a sing-song manner, a slur in her tone, and the hysteria of a drunk.

I extend a hand to Nathaniel in a show of civility. He pointedly ignores it and hauls himself up, wobbling slightly as he rises—every bit the old man his vanity refuses to acknowledge.

Luna steps past me, past Lev, and goes toe-to-toe with her father. “Let me guess, you insulted the man I love, tried to humiliate my brother…anything else?”

I want to pull her away from Nathaniel. I worry he’ll use his hands on her, and I know I’ll kill the son of a bitch if he does.

“ Luna —” Nathaniel starts.

“No.” She lifts a hand to silence him. “You don’t get to speak. The only reason I even showed up today was because of Lev. But don’t mistake obligation for affection.”

Jenn blinks slowly, swaying. “ Luna, dear?—”

“And you.” Luna turns to her mother. “I know you’re sick. But you have two children, and you checked out decades ago. So, get help or go hide in your bedroom. Either way, stop playing the role of the tragic wife. It’s tired.”

Silence falls. Even the air feels stunned.

Then Luna faces me. There’s a certainty in her eyes that I haven’t seen since we were kids. My heart begins to hammer.

She holds out her hand, palm up.

It’s a statement—clear, unshakable.

I place mine in hers, our fingers lacing together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

We’re together, and her parents can go fuck themselves.

“Lev, you can’t save her,” she tells her brother.

He nods, but I know my friend, he’s not ready to give up.

Then we walk out of the library, past the guests, and out the front doors of the house she was raised in, where her parents all but diminished her.

Outside, the evening air is gentler. Muggy. There’s the threat of a monsoon in the air.

“You okay?” I ask as we reach my car.

“Did…he hit you?” She stands by the hood of the car, her gaze lowered.

“No.”

“Did he….”

“No, he didn’t touch Lev,” I assure her, as I open the passenger door .

She takes a breath, still shaking, and then slowly raises her head, holding it high.

I see the effort that takes…see her . The power in her spine. The steel in her gaze. The woman I love, in full.

“Let’s go home, Dom,” she says, and then she gets into the car.

After she’s settled, dress, heels, and all, I close the door.

I smile despite the shitty evening we’ve had.

She said home , like it was ours .

As I walk around the car to get to the driver’s side, I know I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to have a woman like Luna with me.