He pushes Anya away from him, gentle enough to not cause a scene. But that’s not my style. I smile at her, then step closer, loud enough for the next table to hear, and say, “Please refrain from touching my husband like that next time, Anya. It’s very inappropriate for a lady. Show some decency.”
A subtle hush ripples through the room. All eyes are on her. I watch the heat rise in her face, the tight set of her jaw, and the flicker of awareness that she’s been called out. I can see the disappointed and curious gazes of others sweep toward her.
Mike lets out a soft breath I hadn’t realized he was holding. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he slides his hand into mine, firm and grounding, and leads me away.
“When you do things like that,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl, “you make me want to do dirty things to you.”
I feel heat surge through me at his words, my stomach twisting. I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, soft hands wrap around mine from the side.
“Ellie!”
I turn, startled, to see Elara, Roman Rusnak’s wife, beaming as she pulls me into a quick hug.
“That was badass,” she says, her voice half-teasing, half-admiring.
I laugh, letting the nervous adrenaline from the confrontation with Anya slide off me. “I’ve been searching for all of you. Was hoping to find some allies in this place.”
Elara grins and points to a table in the corner of the room. “We’re all over there. Come on, let’s sit. You need to catch your breath after that stunt.”
I glance back at Mike, whose hand still lingers near mine for a moment before he finally releases it, his eyes dark with something I can’t name—desire, amusement, maybe pride. I step back slightly.
“I’ll go with Elara,” I say, my tone light but confident. “You can go handle your meeting.”
He leans down quickly and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek. The warmth lingers, like a silent promise. “Be careful,” he murmurs. “And don’t get into too much trouble.”
I smirk, brushing his comment aside. “No promises.”
We part, and I follow Elara. The moment I reach the table, I’m greeted by Raelyn, Sienna, and Vivian, all radiant in their gowns. Their laughter fills the space, and for the first time since the luncheon began, I feel some of the tension leave me.
I hug them in turn, finally letting myself relax. Elara leans in conspiratorially and tells them what happened with Anya, emphasizing my little confrontation. They all burst into laughter, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Raelyn leans back, still chuckling. “I’d do the same if I were you, Ellie. Anya has it coming; mark my words.”
Vivian tuts, shaking her head but smiling. “I used to think the men were the possessive and crazy ones…but clearly, theyhave no idea. We, the women, are far more possessive—and far crazier.”
We all laugh again, a warm, cathartic sound. The tension of the earlier confrontation melts further. Raelyn picks up the bottle and pours our drinks, each of us catching her eye as she hands them out.
“To surviving the Rusnak men,” Raelyn says, raising her glass with a grin.
“To that,” I echo, clinking my glass with theirs. My drink sparkles like liquid ruby, and the cheers are loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby tables, but we don’t care.
We spend the rest of the night swapping stories about our marriages, laughing over the ridiculous, the romantic, and the downright absurd. For a few hours, the weight of the Rusnak world lifts, replaced by warmth, camaraderie, and an almost intoxicating sense of normalcy.
Finally, the men wrap up their meeting, and the event host announces that the luncheon is about to officially begin. Since we each have our assigned tables, we reluctantly part, exchanging quick hugs and whispered promises.
“Next week,” Raelyn whispers, “our group chat plans must become a reality. Drinks, shopping, and everything girly. No kids.”
The other women say, “Amen.”
I nod, smiling. “Well, I don’t have kids yet, but absolutely.”
I weave through the crowd to Mike’s table, and the moment I sit, his arms wrap around me in a firm, protective hold.
“You look happy,” he murmurs into my hair, his voice low enough that only I can hear it.
I roll my eyes, pretending to brush it off.
He leans closer, resting his chin near my shoulder, ignoring the host’s drone as he whispers, “Really? Are you happy, Ellie?”
