Page 43

"Wait, wait," Amanda gasps between giggles, "you actually climbed out the window to avoid the headmaster?"

"In my defense," I try to maintain some dignity, "Ethan said the rope would hold."

"How was I supposed to know you'd put on muscle that semester?" Ethan protests. "Besides, that rosebush broke your fall perfectly."

"The thorns in my ass disagreed."

Laughter erupts again, and I find myself relaxing into it. These people—they're good for Isabella. They protected her when I couldn't, loved her when I failed. The way they include me now, despite everything, speaks volumes about their characters.

"To Bella," Brian says, raising his glass. "And her strength in the face of adversity."

"To Bella!" The chorus of voices rises, filled with pride and unwavering support.

I can't help but be moved by the genuine affection in their toasts, the way they rally around Isabella with such fierce loyalty.

"And to new paintings, new shows, and a future even brighter than the past!" Amanda calls out, eliciting another round of cheers.

I watch the exchange, struck by the warmth and camaraderie.

These people don't just love Isabella—they believe in her, in her art, in her ability to overcome.

It's the kind of support I've always craved but rarely found, and seeing it surround the woman I love fills me with a profound sense of gratitude.

Amanda grabs Bella's hand and I watch as the women move as one unit toward the dancefloor, years of friendship evident in their synchronized movement. I can't tear my eyes away from Isabella as she lets loose on the dance floor, all fluid grace and uninhibited joy.

"She's something else, isn't she?" Cole's voice is quiet beside me.

"She's everything." The words come without thought.

He nods, understanding in his eyes. "She's been our anchor, you know. Through all of it, the hard times, the victories, the moments when giving up seemed easier than fighting. Bella never wavered."

My chest tightens. "I should have been there."

"Maybe." Cole takes a thoughtful sip of his drink. "But you're here now. That's what matters."

Nick leans forward, his expression thoughtful as he watches Isabella dancing.

"You know, I've never seen her like this with anyone before.

" His words draw my attention. "She's always been the one pushing others toward happiness—playing matchmaker, supporting everyone else's relationships.

But herself?" He shakes his head. "She kept that part locked away. "

"The way she looks at you," Brian cuts in, swirling his whiskey, "that's different. Trust me, I've seen her date. Nothing even comes close to this."

My heart squeezes at their words, but before I can respond, Cole's voice drops an octave lower. "Just don't fuck this up, Saint." His blue eyes lock onto mine with laser focus. "We like you—surprisingly—but if we have to choose sides..." He lets the sentence hang.

"It's our Bella all the way," Nick finishes, his friendly demeanor hardening just enough to make the threat clear.

"Damn." Ethan whistles low. "Give a man some warning before you go all mafia on him."

The three men burst out laughing, the tension breaking as quickly as it formed. "Hey, we're just returning the favor," Brian says, grinning. "She did the same for all of us when we started dating her friends."

Cole nods, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Told me she'd cut my balls off and hang them as an art installation if I ever hurt Alisha."

"Seriously?" I can't help but laugh, picturing Isabella delivering that threat with her characteristic fire.

"Oh yeah," Nick confirms. "And she'd probably call it 'Betrayal in Blue Balls.'"

"Jesus," Ethan wheezes between laughs. "And here I thought the Saint family was scary. Your girl's got them beat, mate."

Something catches my attention—a pull, magnetic and undeniable. I look at the dancefloor to find Isabella staring at me, her eyes beckoning. Without a word, I stand, drawn to her like a moth to flame.

"And there he goes," Ethan announces dramatically. "Whipped as cream, ladies and gentlemen."

"Shut up, Hawk," I mutter, already moving toward her.

"Hey, it looks good on you, brother!" Ethan calls after me, followed by appreciative whistles and laughter from the guys.

I don't care. Isabella's waiting, and nothing else matters.

Her body moves like liquid sin, all swaying hips and knowing smiles. My mouth goes dry watching her dance, the way she teases me with each deliberate twist. The club lights paint shadows across her face, but that seductive gleam in her eyes burns right through me.

I reach for her without thinking, drawn by some primal need I can't control.

My hands find her waist and I crush my mouth to hers, claiming, possessing.

To hell with gentle—this kiss speaks of ownership, of mine.

She doesn't push me away. Instead, she hums against my lips, a sound of pure satisfaction that shoots straight to my groin.

"Jesus, get a room," Alisha calls out from somewhere behind us.

"Oh, leave them alone." Emma's voice floats over the music. "Like you're any better with Cole."

"Seriously," Amanda adds. "Remember last week when—"

"We need drinks," Alisha announces quickly. "Many, many drinks."

Their laughter fades into the crowd, but I barely notice. My hands roam Isabella's curves, pulling her flush against me. She giggles—actually giggles—and the sound fills my chest with warmth even as my body burns with a different kind of heat.

The beat throbs around us, dark and seductive. Her fingers trail up my chest, and Christ, the way she moves should be illegal. Her body rolls against mine in perfect rhythm, every touch deliberate torture.

I lean down, lips brushing her ear. "Keep dancing like that, Red, and I'm going to bend you over the nearest surface."

Her breath catches. "Promise?"

The word hits me like a shot of pure lust. I grunt as my already hard cock strains painfully against my zipper. Her eyes drop knowingly to my crotch, that wicked smile playing on her lips.

"Problem?" She punctuates the question with another slow grind.

"Minx." I grip her hips tighter, trying to still her movements. "I can't go back to your friends like this."

"Then don't." Her teeth graze my earlobe. "Let's keep dancing."

The music pulses around us as Isabella's body moves against mine, her hips swaying in perfect sync with the beat. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest, and I can't help but pull her closer.

"How're you holding up with the inquisition?" she teases, her breath hot against my neck.

"Surprisingly well." I lean back just enough to catch her eyes. "I like them. They're... real. Especially how protective they are of you." My thumb traces her hip bone. "It's good knowing you had them all these years."

Her expression softens, vulnerability peeking through her playful facade. "They're my family. When I had nothing else, they were there. Every tearful night, every small victory..."

"Do I..." The words slip out before I can stop them, raw and honest. "Do I belong in your family?"

She stops dancing. Her green eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "Sainty," she whispers, cupping my face, "you're more than family. You're part of my soul."

The world stills. Her words cut through every defense I've built, every wall, every distraction that's kept me functioning these fifteen years without her.

I've conquered boardrooms and built empires, but nothing has ever rendered me as powerless—or as complete—as this moment of recognition between us.

Because she's right. We've always been this. Two halves of something essential, finally reconnecting.

My hands shake as I cup her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks. "And you're mine," I manage, my voice rough with emotion. "Every dark corner, every hidden piece—it's all been yours since we were sixteen."

I capture her lips in a desperate kiss, pouring everything I can't say into it.

"You're so getting lucky tonight," I growl against her mouth.

Her hand slides down, palming me through my pants. "I'm counting on it."

Christ, I love how she does this, takes these intense, soul-baring moments and lightens them without losing their meaning. Being with her feels like coming home, like being seen, wanted, loved in ways I'd forgotten existed.

"Hey, horndogs!" Alisha's voice cuts through our bubble. "Get your asses over here!"

Isabella laughs against my chest as I grab her hand, leading her back to our group. The girls are gathering their purses, trading knowing looks.

"Sorry, boys, we've got to head out," Amanda announces. "Babysitters need their beauty sleep."

"Wait, you all have kids?" Ethan's eyes go wide.

The guys exchange identical shit-eating grins. Nick pulls Emma closer, pride radiating from him. "Two. Charlotte and Liam."

"They're the cutest," Alisha cuts in, shooting Cole a heated look. "But our twins are the best."

"Twins?" Ethan practically chokes.

Cole smacks Alisha's ass playfully. "Yep. And they're just like their mama—double trouble."

"And we've got Chase." Amanda beams while Brian nods. "The best boy in the world."

Ethan turns to me, waggling his eyebrows. "Well, looks like you two are next in line." He rubs his hands together. "Little baby Saints running around..."

I shoot Ethan a warning look. "Not you? You're such a casanova, who knows how many kids you've got running around already."

"Ha, nope." Ethan clutches his chest in mock offense. "I always wrap it before the fun."

Brian nearly chokes on his whiskey. "Oh, even then it still can happen, trust me." His eyes dance with mischief. "Imagine thinking you're living your best bachelor life, the next—bam!—you get a call saying you've got a teenage daughter you never knew about."

Cole nods sagely, and Ethan's grin grows wider. "Yeah, sure. Nice stories—"

"Cole has a teenage daughter, Samantha." Alisha's blunt declaration cuts through Ethan's skepticism like a knife.

I whip my head around to stare at Cole—this mountain of a man who radiates composure and seriousness. He meets my shocked expression with an easy grin that transforms his entire face.

"Best thing that ever happened to me," he says, his voice softening with pride.

Alisha coughs pointedly.

"Well," Cole amends, pulling her closer, "until this firecracker and Samantha teamed up to set my world ablaze." He drops a kiss on Alisha's temple. "Now I'm burning in the best possible way."

"Jesus, Ethan, your face." Isabella's laugh bubbles up. "You look like someone just told you Santa isn't real."

I can't help but chuckle, wrapping my arms around her. The warmth of her body against mine feels right, natural. Like we've been doing this for years instead of days.

Something settles in my chest as I take in the scene, the easy banter, the genuine affection, the way they fold Ethan and me into their circle without hesitation. This is what family looks like. Not the cold, calculated performances of the Saint dynasty, but this messy, loving, real connection.

"You're thinking too loud," Isabella murmurs, tilting her head back to meet my eyes.

"Just wondering if there's room for one more in this family of yours."

Her fingers intertwine with mine. "There's always been a space waiting for you, Sainty. You just had to come home to claim it."

Home. The word echoes in my chest, filling empty spaces I didn't even know existed. And as Ethan launches into another round of questions about Cole's daughter, I find myself grinning like an idiot, already addicted to this feeling of belonging.

The air wraps around us like a warm blanket as we leave Six-Pack, carrying the lingering heat of the day.

The city feels alive, humming with that particular energy that comes with summer nights in Boston.

Isabella's fingers are intertwined with mine, and every few steps, she glances up at me with that knowing smile that makes my heart skip.

"Admit it," she says, bumping her hip against mine. "You had fun."

"I did." The words come easily, surprising even me. "Your friends are... something else."

She laughs, the sound floating on the humid breeze. "You looked terrified when Alisha started her interrogation."

"Please. I've faced down corporate raiders and hostile takeovers." I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple, tasting the salt of the summer night on her skin. "Though I have to admit, Alisha might give some of them a run for their money."

"Mm, my fierce protector." Isabella's tone is teasing, but there's warmth beneath it. "Good thing you passed the test."

"There was a test?"

"Oh, Sainty." She pats my chest consolingly. "There's always a test."

We walk in comfortable silence for a few blocks, the city's nightlife humming around us. Ethan had taken off, claiming he needed his beauty sleep, but I suspect he just wanted to give us space. For once, I'm grateful for his perceptiveness.

"Your place?" I ask as we approach the familiar intersection.

Isabella's eyes sparkle with something I can't quite read. "Unless you're too tired..."

"Never too tired for you, Red." My hands find her hips, pulling her against me. "Besides, I believe we have some unfinished business from the dancefloor."

"Mm, that we do." She rises on her toes, brushing her lips against mine. "But first, I have a surprise for you."

That gets my attention. "A surprise?"

"Don't look so suspicious." She laughs, tugging me toward her building. "I promise it's a good one."

I narrow my eyes at her, but she just grins. "Come on, Saint. Trust me."

And damn if I don't. Despite everything, my ingrained suspicion of surprises, the weight of family expectations, the looming confrontation with my father, I trust her completely.

"Always, Red." I squeeze her hand. "Lead the way."

Her answering smile is brighter than all the city lights combined, and I find myself grinning like an idiot. Whatever she's planned, whatever comes next, I know one thing for certain: tonight has been perfect, and I'm not ready for it to end.

Being with her feels like coming home, like being seen, wanted, loved in ways I'd forgotten existed.

"What are you thinking?" Isabella murmurs, pressing herself against my side.

I drop a kiss on her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. "That I'm happy."

Isabella's eyes dance with excitement. "Good. Because the night's not over yet, Sainty. Not even close."