“She’d look good on your arm,” he added casually, “come Prom.”
The duck curdled in my throat.
My mom tilted her wine glass. “You’ll enjoy her company, darling. She’s polished. Comes from people who matter.”
Unlike Jade.
The subtext was louder than the chandelier buzzing above us.
I clenched my jaw and nodded once. Just once. The kind of nod that got me out of this damn room before I flipped the table and exposed the truth—that the girl they hunted like prey was the first real thing I’d ever felt.
That I didn’t want a polished royal cousin or some debutante who matched the dinnerware.
I wanted the girl with fire in her soul and scars on her palms. The one who played soccer like it was her lifeline and kissed like she’d never tasted anything sweeter.
I wanted Jade.
And they’d ripped her from me.
So I smiled like a good son, pushed back my chair with quiet dignity, and excused myself with an apology about needing to review game tape.
My father clinked his wine glass to mine as I passed. “That’s my boy.”
No, I thought bitterly.
Not anymore.
Chapter Nineteen
LEO
It was supposedto be a chill night.
The kind where everyone drinks too much, someone lights a bonfire too close to the bleachers, and Tristan ends up crowd-surfing with a bottle of Dom in hand before the football team even shows up. Classic Royal Oaks chaos.
I wasn’t in the mood. I came because Xavier bribed me with Chick-fil-A and because my dad said showing face would help with optics since my mother still dint fully trust me to be done with Jade since the crew on our yacht snitched about Nantucket.
But when I saw her—everything tilted.
Jade.
Dressed in tight black jeans, a cropped knit sweater that slipped off one shoulder, and boots that made her legs look unfair. Her hair was darker now with lowlights and caramel strands blended with summer blonde, a little edgy, a little dangerous—and it looked fucking perfect.
She didn’t see me right away.
Tristan had dragged her here, but he was already deep inflirt mode with a tall, elegant brunette who had Boston prep written all over her. He forgot Jade even existed.
But I didn’t.
I never forgot.
She stood near the fire pit, arms crossed, watching people with that cool detachment she’d mastered. The crowd surged and thinned, football players howling, girls laughing like the whole world was glitter and filters.
Then he showed up.
Keiser.
Fifth-generation German old money. Drives a Porsche and thinks it’s modest. Had his eye on Jade since she joined Royal Oaks. But he’d never made a move.
