“Tashi,” he said, voice low and warm, “you look like the whole damn Strip lit up at once.”
Before I could answer, Leo emerged behind him, straightening his cuff links. He wore a midnight-blue tux, tailored so precisely it looked sculpted on him. He gave me a slow, appreciative smile.
“That,” Leo said softly, “is worth designing a gala for.”
Ares appeared last.
He moved slowly—his ribs clearly bothering him—but the tux fit him like armor. Black-on-black, the tie knotted neatly at his throat. He looked like a military officer dragged into high society against his will. Reluctant. Deadly. Beautiful.
And his eyes softened the moment they landed on me.
“That,” he murmured, “is a damn weapon.”
Warmth prickled behind my eyes, unexpected and overwhelming.
Leo came to stand beside me, his voice brushing my ear. “You’re still scared.”
“I’m trying not to be.”
Ares crossed the room, slow but steady, then paused an arm’s length away. “You don’t have to pretend tonight,” he said. “You don’t have to be brave. We’ll take care of everything.”
Orion’s hand slid to the small of my back again—steady, grounding. “Nothing happens to you. Nothing.”
I nodded, swallowing past the knot in my throat.
Leo gestured gently. “Come sit a moment before we leave.”
I sank onto the edge of the bed, the gold sequins whispering against my skin. The men stood in front of me like a wall—protective, elegant, and deadly in their singular ways.
Ares knelt on one knee long enough to steady himself. He rested his hands lightly on my hips. “You’re safe with us.”
Then Leo knelt beside him, leaning into my thigh, lifting my hand to brush his lips across my knuckles.
Orion didn’t kneel. He stepped closer, cupped my jaw, and brushed his thumb across my cheek. “You don’t do any of this alone. Not now. Not ever.”
My eyes burned, but I blinked the tears back. “I just…want all of you safe.”
Ares exhaled. “We plan for worst-case scenarios. We never expect them. But we’re prepared.”
Leo added, “And we have Neville running the play. He doesn’t fail.”
Orion finished, “We go downstairs together. We act like everything is normal. And when Marcus shows, we end it.”
The weight of their confidence settled over me—not arrogance, not bravado, but belief, preparedness, and purpose.
A knock sounded at the door—two knocks, one pause, and three more.
Leo rose to open it. A uniformed staff member stood in the hall holding a sleek velvet case. “Your jewelry selection, Ms. George.”
“Oh,” I breathed.
Leo accepted the case, dismissed the staffer, and brought it to me. “Before you open it,” he said, “I want to let you know that this is a gift. From the three of us.”
Ares lifted the lid.
Inside was a gold choker—thin, elegant, shimmering like a line of starlight—and matching earrings that cascaded like droplets of light.
Not flashy or excessive. Perfect.
