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“Hardy.” Comes an unmistakable voice—dry and annoyed. “Open the damn gate. These female reporters are staring at me like they either want to take me home or dig up every dirty secret I’ve got. And honestly? Not in the mood.”

A wave of laughter spreads through the room.

“Oh, perfect,” Noah says. “Now the chaos is complete.”

I glance sideways at Thalia. She’s smiling—but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

And Ethan?

Still hasn’t moved. Still hasn’t looked her way.

Same process repeats. Nick authorizes the elevator. And less than a minute later, Colt Jones walks straight into the living room like he owns it.

“Oh, family reunion. And not one of you thought to invite me.” He scans the room, sarcasm laced through every word.

“You’re lucky Sierra and I are good now,” Nick shoots back from behind the couch, his hand still on my shoulder—possessive, warm, anchored.

“Oh, fuck off. I did nothing but make sure she didn’t get too drunk and got home safe,” Colt replies casually, already heading toward the fridge.

He grabs a beer, pops the cap with the familiarity of someone who’s done it a hundred times in that exact spot. He probably has.

“Now, do you want the chaos outside to keep spinning like a damn carousel, or should we shut it down?” he adds, glancing over his shoulder.

“Shut it down,” Nick says firmly, without hesitation.

“I was just about to call you,” Ethan steps into the conversation, finally moving from the shadows of his silence. “What the hell is going on out there?”

Colt lets out a short laugh, leaning casually on the kitchen island, beer in hand.

“Women are sobbing and heartbroken that they’ve officially lost their chance with Nickolas Hardy. Meanwhile, the press is milking it for all it’s worth—clicks, views, drama. You know the drill.”

“What I’d like to know is why the hell everyone’s in my apartment,” Nick says, voice slightly loud.

There’s a beat of silence before Kai responds first, smirking.

“We came to see with our own eyes that everything was okay. And we’re staying for a few more days, obviously.”

A few chuckles ripple through the room.

“I’ve been in London for a few weeks,” Colt says, sliding onto a barstool, expression amused. “And when I saw the chaos tonight, I figured someone would have to be the adult and come shut it down.”

“Well…” Liam says, raising his beer like a toast. “Looks like the adult has arrived.”

Theo snorts. “God help us all.” Then continues beside me on the couch, “And we’re gonna head out. But… a bit later,” he adds, placing his arm lazily over Thalia’s shoulder.

I glance up at Nick and, like we’ve done it a hundred times before, our eyes instantly shift toward Ethan.

“We?” Noah echoes, brows lifted in curiosity.

“You two together or something?” Chris chimes in, tipping his head with a smirk.

“Or something,” Theo replies, deliberately vague, flashing that infuriatingly calm smile of his.

But I don’t miss the way Thalia’s eyes are glued to mine. Wide, guarded, almost pleading. She doesn’t like the spotlight on them. Doesn’t want the assumptions, the pressure—not now, not like this.

And I get it. I know her. She’s not ready for this conversation, especially not in front of Ethan.

Time to redirect.