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What a waste of time to hope he’d ever look at anyone but Mom.
I go toward them through the crowd, only to halt when I notice another couple standing near them.
A redheaded woman grins at me, wearing a floral dress that highlights her generous curves and rather short posture, especially compared to her husband, who towers over her, his protective arms locked around her waist, daring anyone to upset her.
While she’s younger than him, he’s still stunning for a man his age, and the tabloids love to make up divorce stories about them because they think he could have done better.
Needless to say, most of them run out of business shortly after he puts everyone in their rightful places, never allowing anyone to disrespect her. He winks at me as he kisses his wife’s neck softly while she pats his arm, adoration written all over her features.
Their love story is my second favorite after my parents’.
Oh my God.
I haven’t faced them in person since that fateful night that ruined my world, and my cheeks heat as embarrassment washes over me, just thinking about how my actions would horrify them if they ever found out.
Luna notices my hesitation and asks, “What is it?”
Shaking my head, my throat too clogged to utter a single word, I reach them in five short steps as Aunt Calliope opens her arms wide. “Welcome home, honey.” She cups my cheeks, her brown eyes lighting up, and warmth oozes from her. “We all missed you so much.”
“Hi, Madrina,” I greet my godmother, giving her a tight hug right before my godfather snatches me away, catching me in his embrace. A chuckle slips past my lips. “Hi, Padrino.”
“Welcome home, princess.” Uncle Jacob kisses me on the forehead, tipping my chin up, and drops his voice to a whisper that wipes away all my amusement. “Don’t run away again.”
It’s so hard to hold his gaze because my godfather…he sees right into my soul, and it’s impossible to hide anything from him.
Which makes me even more ashamed of what I’ve done.
“Even if I wanted to, Dad wouldn’t let me,” I tease, but judging by how his eyes stay cold, he sees through my pretense, and Aunt Calliope’s concerned gaze only adds to my misery.
In some ways, they know me better than my parents, a fact no one likes to admit out loud as it shines light on the past that’s been heartbreaking and painful for everyone involved.
People who showed me the most support only for me to do the unthinkable, and the idea of them finding out is more terrifying than facing…
All thoughts fly from my mind when a powerful blast of energy hits me, the familiar buzzing in my veins matching the floor vibrating with synced, heavy footsteps tapping soundly on the marble floor as the crowd goes quiet around us.
“Oh my God. They’re here,” a woman whispers, excitement along with trepidation lacing her tone while several other women gasp, their awe practically whirling in the air and suffocating me to death.
Even the musicians stop playing as their eyes widen and they look at the entrance, swallowing hard while shifting in uneasiness because the newcomers' presence alone evokes surrender and inability to move among most people.
A shiver rushes down my spine, my fingers curling into the glass, everything in me screaming to run away from here before it’s too late. However, the invisible pull forces me to spin around and face the four men marching inside. The aura of dominance and power emits from them in spades, promising chaos to whoever dares to come near them, as they have no mercy for anyone and prefer to destroy everything they touch.
They get whatever they want, and if someone stands in their way?
They punish them in the most vicious way.
They are all taller than six-foot-three, and I’ve spent most of my life tilting my head back and staring at them in awe despite most people finding their height intimidating and casting their eyes down in fear of facing their retribution.
That’s where their similarities end and differences begin.
I focus my stare on the first one from the right, wearing black jeans and a shirt emphasizing his muscled physique and pointing out how he has no problems going against social norms as he comes from rags, so whatever he has, he’s earned with blood and sweat.
His brown hair falls below his ears. His dark eyes scan the crowd as if studying everyone under a microscope and warning them at the same time not to trick him.
He has the ability to look straight into your soul and guess your best-kept secrets—I should know. He spent his teenage years comforting me and promising to kill everyone who made me cry.
A smile curves my mouth as warmth fills me at the sight of him. Once upon a time, he was our gardener’s son, and now he’s a brother to me in every way that counts but blood.
He winks at me as he snags a whiskey from a passing server, tension pouring from him, and maybe if I hadn’t known him for such a long time, I’d shy away from his stare as well.
