My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out smoothly with one hand, keeping the other at Parker’s waist, and glance at the screen.
Charles:Keep eyes on Matthews—making too many moves for comfort. Fill Parker in, but your hand better not go any lower, idiot.
I can’t help it—I smirk, a quiet chuckle escaping as I tuck the phone back in my pocket.
“What?” Parker asks, her eyebrow raised.
“Charles.” I let my hand slip lower on her back—not inappropriately, but definitely lower than it was. A deliberate fuck-you to her brother who’s apparently watching us. “He says I should keep an eye on Ryan. That he’s making too many moves.”
Parker’s expression shifts slightly, curiosity replacing the softness. “What kind of moves?”
I turn us on the dance floor, positioning so she can see across the gallery to where Ryan is standing with Aria near one of the art installations. They’re standing close—too close for just friendly conversation. Ryan’s body language is open, engaged, his attention fully on Dominic’s young widow. Aria’s laughing at something he said, her hand touching his arm in a gesture that’s familiar, practiced.
“That kind,” I say quietly.
Parker watches them for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then: “He’s hedging his bets.”
“Or building alternative alliances.”
“Same thing.” She sounds more amused than angry. “I told him in the car there was no future between us. Guess he decided to move on quickly.”
“You told him?—”
“That I wasn’t interested. That there’s nothing between us and never would be.” Parker’s eyes meet mine again. “He admitted to lying to Charles about being in contact with me in California. Said he thought it would make Charles more supportive of us getting to know each other.”
Anger flares hot in my chest. “He admitted?—”
“Honestly, I appreciated the honesty.” Parker’s voice is calm, matter-of-fact. “He’s not malicious. Just entitled and arrogant. Thinks he can convince me if he tries hard enough.”
My phone buzzes again. I pull it out, expecting another sarcastic comment from Charles.
Instead, I see an incomplete text—just the beginning of a message that cuts off mid-word:Cal, your hand?—
I look up, scanning the crowd for Charles. Find him near the sculpture with Sienna, who’s currently tucking his phone into her clutch with a satisfied expression.
I catch Sienna’s eye across the distance. She winks.
And I realize she just confiscated Charles’s phone to stop him from micromanaging my interaction with Parker.
I love her sister-in-law.
“What now?” Parker asks, noticing my expression.
“Sienna just stole Charles’s phone.”
Parker follows my gaze, sees Sienna smoothing down her dress while Charles looks vaguely confused about where his phone went. A laugh escapes her—real and genuine and so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.
“She’s the best,” Parker says.
“She really is.”
The song is ending. I can see Ryan extracting himself from his conversation with Aria, heading back toward the dance floor with champagne flutes in hand.
Our time is almost up.
I pull Parker slightly closer, letting my hand at her waist—lower than Charles would approve of—tighten against the storm-grey silk.
“I trust you,” I say quietly, answering her earlier question. “I will choose you over doubt. Next time things get complicated, next time someone tries to plant seeds, next time Charles manipulates the situation—I come to you first. Always. That’s a promise, Parker.”
