Page 158 of Damián

“So… you’ve never introduced anyone before?” I ask teasingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Never,” Damián admits, leaning his forehead down to rest against mine for a brief second. “Which is why they will probably be obnoxious and meddling and intense as fuck. So I apologize in advance for that… Especially about Björn. I really, really apologize for Björn.”

I laugh, take a half-step back, and offer him my hand.

“Okay… I’m ready. Let’s go meet your brothers.”

Damián grins, and his grip tightens around my hand.

And… I lied.

I am soooo not ready for this.

As we walk around the side of the house toward the backyard, I am officially panicking. I have absolutely no idea what to expect, and I can’t believe that I am currently ten times more terrified than I was when I took my father’s place.

The backyard is magnificent. It’s big and surrounded by a mix of tall trees and climbing Eden roses. There is a rustic pool that somehow fits the historic aesthetic of the house perfectly, and an outdoor kitchen equipped with the most incredible grilling setup I have ever seen.

Uff! Is that a built-in stone pizza oven?

I don’t even cook, but I want one…

And then I see them, the Harknetts.

The group of men is scattered around the yard, none of whom have seen us yet.

Like the totally normal, non-stalker informant that I am, I did an intensive investigation into the Harknetts right after the Masquerade gala. So, even though I’ve never spoken to them in my life, I know exactly who is who.

Knox is standing by the grill, flipping burgers, and wow… he looks even bigger in person than he does in his pictures, and his eyes look so much greener. Almost like emeralds. Knox is talking with Law.

Honestly, I am a bit surprised by how Law can be one of the best snipers out there. His red hair and beard practically shine in the sun like a beacon, and even in casual linen pants and a polo shirt, he looks so ridiculously elegant that I can’t imagine him ever lying face-down in the dirt.

Over by the patio, I spot Jeong Tae setting the table, and I completely understand why people assume he’s a movie star or an idol. And no, it’s not just because of how beautiful he is, but his entire presence… he moves so gracefully that he looks almost ethereal. He would make an amazing Lord of the Rings elf.

And finally, I see Björn and Leif. The identical, Viking-like men are in the middle of the fastest, most aggressive game of ping-pong in history.

You can do this, I tell myself, gripping Damián’s hand a little tighter.

They know the truth. They know who you are, and that’s cool.

They are Dami’s family, and they are also super professional men who can—

“Holy fuck!” one of the Vikings, I assume Björn from his tattoos, screams at the top of his lungs, dropping his ping-pong paddle. “The time has arrived! Mini-boss drug lord is in the house!”

Damián groans, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “On the other hand, we can leave and never come back.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” I laugh as the entire team stops what they’re doing and walks toward us.

“And they are holding hands!” Leif yells, pointing directly at our laced fingers. “Who had ‘holding hands’?”

Knox lifts his spatula into the air. “Me!”

“Hey! No bets on my man!” Damián glares at his brothers, and they all go quiet, staring at him.

Okay, maybe they—

“Who had Damián calling Oliver ‘his man’?!” Björn yells, super excited.

Never mind.