Page 28 of Savage Protection (Kings of Ruin #1)

Hailey

“Are you really this nervous?” Max asks from beside me on the couch as I lean toward the coffee table and stress-eat another pretzel.

I thought I was hiding my anxiety well, but clearly not.

We're headed to a club tonight with his sisters, Sofia and Bianca.

I was eager to meet them, but the club scene is their choice, not mine.

I'm not much for nightlife—too loud, too low of an alcohol tolerance, too awkward to dance.

“Well, the last time I saw your family members, it wasn’t exactly welcoming.”

He winces. “Fair. But they’ll like you, I promise.

” He runs a hand through his dark hair, unconsciously flexing his arm.

He looks so good tonight. Though he's just in a simple black v-neck and jeans, it's a refreshing change from our usual sweats-clad evenings after Nick got shot.

Nick is slowly recovering and needs physical therapy to walk again, but Max assures me he should eventually make a full recovery.

I climb onto his lap, my hands resting on his shoulders, while his hands fall beneath my tight blue dress.

“It’s so late already. Maybe we can stay in,” I tease, kissing him softly. “Have some of our own fun instead of drinking into oblivion.”

His brow furrows. “Hailey, you seemed so happy when I mentioned this plan. You could have said no.”

“I know, I know.”

He’s right. I'm anxious because if tonight doesn't go well, my chances of making any new friends are slim. And what will Max think of me if we don’t get along?

The doorbell rings insistently, breaking the moment. Rosie rushes over, barking at the door.

Max lifts me off him and stands. “Alright, alright, Jesus!” he shouts as the doorbell continues. “Rosie!” He mumbles something I can't catch under his breath as he gets to the door. I follow and hover in the foyer.

He swings the door open, and we’re greeted by the giggles of two women. “You know,” Max says, “I have a dog, and that was only funny the first time.”

“Sorry, it’s funny to me every time.” A petite girl with platinum-blond hair wearing a silver dress pushes past Max, handing him a bottle of tequila.

The other follows, leaning against the wall. She has the same warm brown eyes as Max, with thick brown hair. Adjusting her black dress, she notices me. I'm guessing she’s the sister who played tennis in college, given her toned arms.

“Hi! I’m Sofia.” Her smile mirrors Max’s.

“Hailey.” I turn to the other sister. “I’m guessing you’re Bianca?”

“Yup. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve barely seen my brother this summer because he's always with you. It's always some lame excuse when our parents try inviting him over—we know it’s bullshit and he just wants to hang out with you. The best part? When I mention your name, he blushes. Blushes! He’s never been so obsessed with someone before, so I’m curious. ”

Max looks ready to hurl something at her, but Bianca just laughs, unperturbed.

“God, B,” Sofia cuts in. “No filter, huh?” She turns to me. “Do you like tequila?”

“Absolutely.” I say it more to get on her good side. I discovered a liking for margaritas this summer, but I'm bracing for the onslaught of shots Max warned about.

“We’ll get along great,” she winks.

I find myself relaxing as they laugh and joke like siblings do—something foreign to me.

In casual settings, I often feel awkward.

I can put on a great professional or even flirty persona at work, but being myself?

That's hard. It feels like I've been conditioned to suppress my personality since childhood.

But with Max's family, being me is somehow easier.

Max gives me a reassuring smile as we move to the kitchen.

Bianca pushes a couple of tequila shots on Sofia and me, while Max sticks with his vape.

They eagerly ask about my background, and, surprisingly, I don’t mind sharing.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. They talk about their extensive family, both in metro Detroit and elsewhere.

Max casually mentions cousins or uncles, but I can never remember who’s who.

Their family dynamic is enviable—except for what Max told me about his dad’s cousin, a thought I quickly dismiss as too horrifying to be real.

We pile into one of Max's cars after a few more shots. My eyes blur as I gaze out the passenger window. He rests a hand on my knee, and I smile at him—a warm, friendly smile, I hope. But he double-checks, glancing back. “How many fucking rounds did you give her?” He laughs, squeezing my knee.

“Four or five,” Bianca admits.

Wow. That many? I can't keep up. I'm keen to avoid the post-drinking headache, so I usually limit myself to a couple. Tomorrow’s hangover will be brutal, but at least there's nothing important planned.

At the club, there’s a line outside, but Max leads us to the front. Some girls who have probably been waiting in line for an hour scowl in our direction. The doorman opens the rope for us. "Have a good night, Mr. Calabrese."

“Do you guys own this place?” I ask Max as we walk through a dark hallway toward the bar.

He nods. “A couple of my cousins do.” His family seems to own this whole city .

Bianca, ahead of us, tugs my wrist, guiding me to the bar. Sofia and Max trail behind. I order a soft drink, deciding to slow down.

The club is packed. People crowd the dance floor, some moving to the DJ’s rhythm, others looking ready to collapse from excess. The music is a rapid-fire remix of pop tracks, changing every thirty seconds, leaving me feeling lost.

The bartender returns with our drinks. Free, naturally.

Bianca gestures with her finger. “Another round of shots?”

“No,” Sofia and I chorus.

“Come on...”

“They said no, B.” Max squeezes my shoulder. “Besides, what the hell did you order? Is that a double?”

She sticks out her tongue, ordering herself a shot.

Max groans and tells Sofia, “Mom’s going to yell at me tomorrow for not controlling her.”

“She knows there’s no controlling Bianca.”

Bianca downs her shot and lifts her drink, spilling some on her hand.

We reach the dance floor. I eye an empty booth longingly, wishing we could sit and talk. Max clears a path through the crowd, leading us near the middle. The bass vibrates through me as I lean into Max, his hand resting on my hip, swaying lazily to the music, comfortable in his hold.

Sofia and Bianca exude confidence, belting out lyrics I don't know and flaunting their moves. Even with liquid courage, I’d feel clumsy and out of sync copying them .

I hear Max take a drag from his vape, sipping his energy drink afterward.

“I hope I’m not boring you,” I say over my shoulder. “I’m not the best dancer.”

“Do you really think I want to join them?” He nods toward his sisters just as Bianca tumbles to the ground. She laughs it off without a hint of embarrassment.

I laugh, turning to give him a quick kiss.

He touches his lips to my head, taking another hit from his vape. “Mind if I try?” I ask.

“Are you sure? Have you smoked before?”

“No, but I’m curious.”

He shrugs, handing it to me. “Take a small hit. Don’t want you too fucked up.”

I’ve no idea what a small hit means, so I inhale what seems right. Cue a coughing fit.

Before I can assess the effects, Bianca grabs my wrist, pulling me to the bar.

“Don’t get my girlfriend shit-faced! No more shots!” Max calls after us through the crowd.

Girlfriend.

Did I hear that right?

He just called me his girlfriend.