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Steven dips his head into a curt nod and arches his brow. A chill sweeps in, hardening his eyes, and I fight the urge to tremble from the hard edge of his voice.

My fingers move to disentangle from his, but he only grips me harder, then ups the stakes by intertwining them and holding them up for all to see.

My heart can’t help but burst at his show of possession. Yet another example that Steven is the person for me.

He isn’t like the other men in my life. He’s not like Mom’s asshole exes. He’s proud to have me by his side. I’m not a fling, a secret, but someone he deems worthy to stand next to him.

We’re a team.

I exhale, my lungs finally drawing in air as I turn my head toward an elegant woman, dressed in a couture dress suit with her neck and ears adorned with pearls, her black hair swept up in a twist. Steven’s mother is beautiful, her skin is smooth and pale—I can see where Steven got his inky hair and elegant brows from.

But her eyes are hard, her face ashen, a flitter of panic bursting in those dark brown irises as she looks at me for the first time. She swallows and sways, her fingers grip the table to keep herself upright.

I stand—it seems to be the right thing to do—and extend my free hand. “Hello Mrs. Kingsley, I’m Grace.”

She levels a chilling glare at me, her eyes sweeping down to where Steven still has my hand in his tight grip .

Her nostrils flare and she murmurs, “I know about you, Grace. The woman who has my son behaving all out of sorts.”

Her words are civil, but her tone is seething, venomous.

I flinch as my skin heats. This woman doesn’t like me.

I’d bet my life on it. Of course, she’d think I’m below her son in every way she considers important.

But then I’d think about what Steven told me just now, how his mother is a tortured soul, and my heart softens.

Sometimes, a sad person can’t help but be mad at the world.

Steven’s mother straightens up and commands to me, “I’d like to speak to you, if you have a moment.”

My brows furrow as my eyes widen in shock. I look at Steven, who has risen as well. “Mother, that’s unnecessary. Anything you have to say to her can be said in front of me.”

Mrs. Kingsley looks around the restaurant, a pink flush creeping up her neck at the attention we’re receiving. She glances at me again, desperation reflecting in her tense frame.

I squeeze Steven’s hand and turn to him. “Don’t worry, it’s just a chat. I’ll be right back.”

Turning back to Mrs. Kingsley, I wave toward the lobby. “After you.”

She arches her head up, her nose high in the air as she spins away and heads toward the lobby outside of the restaurant and I follow suit, not before turning back and giving what I hope is a reassuring smile to Steven, whose face has darkened as if an enemy has swept in, threatening to topple his kingdom.

Retreating to a quiet corner outside the third-floor lobby, she turns to face me. I swallow and stand tall, my fingers tangling with each other in a fight to not show fear.

She stares at me silently for a few seconds, her eyes sweeping from my wavy hair to my emerald-green dress, a gem I found online at a discount but flatters my complexion.

I brace myself for what, no doubt, will be unkind words from her mouth.

“I want you to leave my son. ”

I flinch, my pulse rioting in my ears as her words sink in. I know we’re from different classes and she doesn’t approve of me, but I didn’t expect the instant hatred she has for me.

“No. With all due respect, Mrs. Kingsley, your son and I are both grown adults and we don’t need your permission to be together.”

She purses her lips as if she expected my answer. “Very well.”

She takes out a checkbook from her clutch. “How much would it take to change your mind? I’ve done my research on you. Raised by a single mom, living barely above the poverty line, fatherless. You must have a price.”

My skin burns as scorching rage churns through my body with the swiftness of a tsunami.

I fist my hands and stand up straighter.

Taller. Never cower in front of your enemies.

“Nothing would change my mind. Perhaps you think I’m not good enough for your son.

Maybe you think I’m after his money. I don’t care.

I make a decent living on my own and I don’t need to depend on him.

I’m with him because I love him, so you can’t buy me off, so don’t even bother. ”

“You’ll ruin him,” she cries as she furtively looks around our surroundings, her frame vibrating with leashed emotions, something I’ve seen her son do time and time again. “He’ll never recover. You need to leave him. You need to stop this.”

Swallowing hard, I refuse to acknowledge the small slither of shame attempting to pierce through the armor I’ve carefully constructed all these years. I refuse to be belittled by anyone.

Holding my head up high, I reply, “I may not have a fancy last name, I may not be rich and have old money connections, but I have my abilities and my pride and I won’t stand here to be shamed by anyone.

Especially not for loving a man as wonderful as your son.

Someone you and his father have overlooked all his life.

I’ll be civil with you because you are his mother.

But I am done with this conversation. Good evening. ”

I spin around, my body shaking from anger as I stalk back into the restaurant, leaving the seething woman standing behind me, no doubt feeling stupefied at this turn of events .

My muscles soften as Steven strides toward me and wraps me in a hug in the middle of the restaurant by the open kitchen.

I can feel the anger draining from my frame in his embrace, his scent calming me by the second, his touch chasing away any lingering sense of shame and anger.

It doesn’t matter if the world doesn’t approve of us. All that matters is we are together.

I cock my head up and smile at him, watching his frown softening. “We’re a team.”

A corner of his lip curves up and he presses a kiss on my forehead. “A team. Now, tell me what happened.”

He escorts me out of the restaurant toward the Menagerie, one of the small cocktail bars on the second floor, a space I heard is intimate and beautiful.

Part of me wants to slink away and hide his mother’s barbs from him.

I don’t want to cause a rift because I know, despite what he says about his parents, he still loves them.

After all, why would he work himself to the bone trying to save his father’s company?

Another part of me wants to hide the shriveling heaviness in my chest—his mother finds me so unsuitable she wants to buy me off.

But then I think about our vows to each other, “we’re a team,” and how all our heartache in our time apart could have been prevented if I were more honest with him, if I let down my guard and let him in, and I realize, there’s no more room for secrets between us.

I tell him what his mother told me and watch as his muscles clench, his tiger stone eyes hardening.

“Fucking bullshit. She pulled this on my sisters before they married their husbands. I won’t put up with this, with her. I’ll cut her off before she can say another bad word to you—”

Pulling him to a stop before the elevator bay, I reach up and caress his face.

“I don’t care, Steven. I don’t care what she says. You and I are all that matters.”

He swallows, the flush in his face receding at my words, and he leans down and captures my lips with his .

He murmurs, “Fuck the world. We’re living for ourselves.”

I ignore the swirling in my stomach and bury myself in his embrace.