Page 141 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“You ready to go?” he asks as I’m throwing my hair up into a ponytail in the bathroom.

“Yeah. Just finishing my hair.”

He watches me through the mirror, his eyes tracking every move. “You look nervous.”

“No shit,” I say, tightening the elastic. “I’m about to meet your entire family.”

He steps up behind me, his arms sliding around my waist.

“They’ll love you,” he murmurs into my neck.

I meet his eyes in the mirror. “And you know that how?”

“Trust me. You’re going to fit right in.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, unconvinced. “At least Sarah will be there. She’s met them. She can be my buffer.”

“That best friend of yours has my cousin in a chokehold.”

“And I don’t have you?” I smirk.

He laughs, guiding me to face him.

“You’ve got a dangerous amount of influence over me considering who I am.”

“God, your ego is exhausting,” I say, fighting a smile.

“Careful,” he says.

I raise a brow, but I don’t get another word out before his hand finds my face, and he kisses me.

His aunt’s house is gated like his, but there’s a noticeable difference the second we pull up. There’s no guard waiting or stepping forward to check anything before letting us through. The gate opens, and we drive in without stopping.

The road curves gently as we make our way down, lined with massive oak trees that stretch high overhead. Their branches filter the sunlight, casting shifting shadows across the windshield as we pass beneath them. It feels quieter here. It’s not empty. It’s settled. It’s obvious everything has been here for a long time.

By the time the driveway comes into view, it’s already full. Cars line both sides, parked wherever they could fit, and spilling out toward the edge of the property. There’s no order to it. People clearly arrived and found space where they could.

“How many relatives do you have?” I ask.

He chuckles beside me, one hand on the wheel. “Quite a few, Doll.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“It’s not meant to be.”

The house comes into view, and I’m not prepared for the way it throws me off. It’s big, yes, but not in the way his place is. His estate is expansive, polished, every detail thought through. This feels different.

It’s painted a soft yellow with white trim, stretching wide across the property instead of rising up. The windows line the front, evenly spaced, and catching the light. A white picket fence wraps around parts of the yard with flower beds tucked along the edges, full but not overly maintained.

The driveway curves in front of the house, and the front entrance sits beneath a covered porch supported by white columns. A dark front door stands at the center, framed by windows on either side. There are chairs on the porch, angled toward each other, not perfectly arranged. They’re placed where people would actually sit.

“This is not what I expected,” I say.

He glances over at me, a hint of amusement in his expression. “What were you expecting?”

“Something a little more you.”

That earns a laugh.