chapter 6
1447 Words
Lena slammed the heel of her palm against the steering wheel, the sharp crack echoing through her car like a gunshot. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, weaving through late-afternoon traffic. “Absolutely unbelievable.”
Her smug, pretentious bosshad chosen the exact moment she was packing up to dump three urgent client calls on her. Not one. Three. All marked “time sensitive,” all requiring her personal touch. She’d almost cried. Almost. But Lena Marlowe didn’t cry at work. She clenched her jaw, powered through the calls, and then sprinted out the door like her life depended on it.
And now? Now she was late. Really late.
Great first impression for the date Calliope Wilder had promised would “change her life forever.”
Her hands were slick on the wheel, her strapless blue maxi dress bunching uncomfortably around her hips as she shifted in her seat. Suri had insisted she buy it claimed the dress hugged her curves like it had been sewn for her body alone. “It screams confidence,” Suri had said in the boutique, tugging at the fabric and nodding with approval. “Trust me, your family won’t know what hit them.”
Lena hoped so. Because right now she felt like she was seconds from unraveling.
She wiped her palms against her skirt again. “Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Deep breath. He’s probably still there. Maybe.”
And maybe he wasn’t.
Calliope had sworn up and down that this date would impress Lena’s family, especially at the bridal shower tonight which Lena fully expected to be a battlefield. Her cousin’s wedding had become a place where her relatives whispered about her divorce, judged every man she’d ever spoken to, and analyzed her appearance like she was a science experiment. And of course, Maxwell Jordan her ex would be there. Smirking. Gloating. Acting as though he’d been the victim, not the manipulative liar he truly was.
Lena gripped the wheel harder. She needed tonight to go right. For once. Just once.
She pulled into the upscale hotel’s parking lot and nearly groaned. She’d forgotten to mention something crucial when she’d asked Calliope for help.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
She hadn’t told Calliope to make sure the guy dressed formally. What if he showed up in a graphic tee and ripped shorts? Or worseflip-flops?
She strangled the steering wheel like it had personally offended her. “Please let him know how to dress,” she begged the universe. “Please.”
She climbed out of her car in a flurry of tangled nerves and bolted into the hotel lobby. Her heel hit a slick patch on the polished floor, her body pitching forward
straight into a solid wall of heat and muscle.
Large hands caught her upper arms, steady and warm, holding her upright before she could face-plant into oblivion. Lena blinked up
and nearly forgot how to breathe.
Standing over her was the blond man from the elevator. Silas Wynn. His pale blue eyes glittered like shards of sky, and in the crisp navy suit he wore, he looked unfairly gorgeous.
“Easy there, beautiful Lena,” he murmured, voice smooth enough to melt chocolate.
She froze. He remembered her name?
Before she could muster a response, another presence stepped in beside hera darker, taller shadow that radiated heat. Ronan Vale. Her elevator biker god. Except this time he wasn’t in jeans and a leather jacket. No, Ronan wore a black suit that clung to his frame in a way that should have been illegal. Broad shoulders. Thick hands. A jawline carved by the gods and sinful amber eyes watching her like she was the only spark in a dark world.
Her mouth went dry.
Her brain went silent.
No.
No way.
Both men.
Here.
Together.
In suits.
“What… What are you two doing here?” she asked, mortified to hear the breathlessness in her voice.
Ronan’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “We,” he said, stepping closer, “are your dates for the next few days.”
Her heart stopped.
“Dates? As in plural?” she squeaked.
Silas tilted his head in a way that sent a warm shiver down her back. “Unless you don’t want us,” he said softly, his gaze locking onto hers with enough heat to scorch the air.
“I I I don’t…”
Words failed. Oxygen failed. Her entire brain short-circuited.
Two men?
Calliope had done this on purpose. She had to have it.
Before Lena had a chance to gather her dignity, footsteps echoed down the corridor. She knew that sound. That arrogant click-stride. Her stomach twisted.
Of course.
Of all the moments in the universe, Maxwell Jordan had to round the corner right now, his new girlfriend in tow.
Max’s smug expression froze when he saw her. “Lena?” he said, a false surprise coating his voice like cheap syrup. “Didn’t expect you to actually come.”
Oh, she wanted to slap that condescending tone off his face. But instead she straightened her spine and gave him a cool smile.
“Why wouldn’t I come?” she said sweetly. “I told the family I’d be here.”
Max’s gaze flicked to the two men towering beside her, suspicion tightening his jaw. “And… who exactly are these gentlemen?”
Before she could form an escape sentence, Ronan stepped forward, radiating dominance like a furnace.
“I’m Ronan, and this is Silas,” he said evenly. “We’re with Lena.”
Max blinked. “With her? What does that mean?”
Ronan didn’t skip a beat. “It means she isn’t here alone.”
Silas leaned in, voice velvet-soft yet razor-sharp. “We’re very interested in her.”
Max sputtered. “Interested? Are you saying you’re both”
Silas raised a brow. “Do you need the details?”
“Silas,” Lena hissed under her breath, elbowing him.
He only smiled, amused.
Max’s girlfriendCandy, if Lena remembered right, gave Lena a kind smile. “It’s really nice to meet you,” she said sweetly, clearly unaffected by Max’s tension.
Lena almost thanked her.
Almost.
Max’s stare remained glued to Ronan and Silas, his expression twisting with something between disbelief and threatened pride. “So… what, you’re dating her?”
Before Lena could stop it, Ronan’s hand slipped to her lower back, warm and heavy. “We’re a little more serious than that,” he said, voice a low rumble.
Silas’s fingers brushed the nape of her neck, making her toes curl in her sandals. “She’s… important to us.”
Her brain nearly shut down. Important?
Her family was going to spontaneously combust when they saw her walk in with these two.
“Well,” Max finally said, voice clipped. “See you inside.”
He stormed off, Candy trotting after him.
The second Max disappeared, Lena nearly sagged with relief. “Holy crap,” she whispered, turning to Ronan and Silas. “You guys are good. Really good.”
Ronan’s chuckle vibrated through her bones. “Who says we were acting?”
Lena’s breath hitched.
Silas stepped closer, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Calliope told us you needed a date,” he murmured. “She never said we had to pretend.”
Her pulse skittered.
“Look,” she said, fumbling for rationality, “I wasn’t expecting… this. Two men. Matching suits. Clan-level intimidation energy. I just needed a fake date to shut my family up.”
“Then we’ll do that,” Ronan said.
“But we want more than fake,” Silas added, his thumb brushing her hip.
Her thighs pressed together involuntarily. She swallowed hard, heat rushing through her like wildfire.
“We’re a package deal, Lena,” Ronan murmured, lifting her chin lightly with a single finger. “But you get to decide if you open the package.”
Silas leaned down, his breath whispering against her ear. “We’d make you feel incredible. You only need to give us a chance.”
Her heart pounded so hard she felt it in her fingertips.
A chance.
A chance at what
At them?
Her mind spun.
Her body hummed.
Everything in her fought between desire and panic.
“We should… we should go inside,” she said weakly. “Before someone sends a search party.”
Ronan stepped back just enough to let her breathe. “Whatever you need, sweetheart.”
Silas gave her a slow, intentional smile. “But this conversation isn’t over.”
Oh, God.
She was in so much trouble.
And the terrifying, exhilarating part?
She didn’t want to go out.
- Writer
