Titus’s stomach tightened—and yeah, the man was going to pay for that… later.
He stepped back, squinted, and schooled his expression before leading the way out of the bedroom dressing room—fully aware of Viper’s eyes locked on his ass. Tossing a glance over his shoulder, he caught the man in the act.
Viper smirked, smug and hot. “Have I said you look incredible tonight?”
“Oh god,” Titus groaned, pressing his fingers to his forehead as he bit back a laugh.
“Come here.” Viper crooked a finger.
Titus shook his head. “No.”
“I have a reason.”
That earned him a look—skeptical, wary. Titus stepped closer anyway.
Viper took his hand. No announcement. No flourish. He slid the ring from his own finger—the one he’d worn since college—and guided it onto Titus’s ring finger. The platinum band was heavy and understated, an emerald catching the light without begging for it. Old money in miniature.
It fit. Of course it did.
Titus stared at it, then lifted his gaze slowly. “Is this necessary?”
“Yes,” Viper said firmly.
A beat.
“Um…okay.” White, even teeth caught Titus’s lower lip.
“Now we’re ready,” Viper said smugly.
A knock hit the bedroom door, sharp and perfectly timed.
Vale’s voice came from the hall. “Car’s staged. You ready?”
Viper released Titus’s hand with visible effort. “Let’s go.”
Titus didn’t take his eyes off him, one brow lifting. “Let’s go.”
Viper saw the armor settle back into place and took his position at Titus’s side, where he intended to stay.
The limo eased to a stop at the curb, engine purring like something expensive and bored. Vale stepped out first, a massive silhouette cutting clean lines through the city glow. Syx followed, shoulders squared, suit stretched across muscle that made security take one careful step back.
Law stepped out next, calm and deliberate, followed by Memphis—broad shoulders, predatory ease, the kind of presence that made security reassess their odds.
Sage slid out after them, all polished confidence and quiet intelligence, Ocean at his side looking every inch the privileged young executive, Aspen trailing like a shadow with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
They spread naturally, practiced without looking like it.
Then the other rear door opened.
Titus stepped out into the wash of light and winter-cold air—and conversation on the sidewalk faltered. Old-money elegance wrapped itself around him the way it always had: tailored black suit, jaw shadowed, curls tamed just enough to look intentional. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to.
Viper unfolded from the limo behind him like he owned the night.
Tall. Controlled. Lethal in a suit that fit like it had been engineered to make people stare. Clean-shaven jaw, storm-colored eyes, posture all command—the kind of presence that made men straighten and women forget what they were saying mid-sentence. The doormen’s gazes dipped without realizing they’d done it.
Genesis flanked them—Vale and Syx ahead, Vale sliding in close, the rest an unspoken perimeter.
They didn’t walk into the event estate.
