Page 15

It’s nothing, actually.

Irina and I both know exactly what this is. We’ve never talked about rules, about exclusivity. I don’t care what she does outside of work, and from the way she carries herself, it’s clear she doesn’t care what I do either.

I decided she could come with me here because tomorrow she has a very important meeting she needs to attend—on my behalf, of course. So it seemed easier for her to travel with me today and spend the night with us at Theo’s villa. From here, it’s only a twenty-minute drive to the headquarters where the meeting will take place.

But these are details no one knows. They all thought something else, and no one ever asks to find out the truth.

And Thalia… she didn’t say a single word during the entire drive. She spent the whole ride with her AirPods in, eyes glued to her phone, or pretending to sleep. I was about to lean over and wake her when we pulled in, only to realize she was wide awake, and she bolted from the car the second I hit the brakes.

Silent then, silent now. Because since that moment, she vanished.

Irina and I talked about work on the way here. A string of business meetings this week hadn’t gone as smoothly as I would have liked, though in the end I walked out of each one with exactly what I wanted. She made a point of congratulating me, her tone playful, telling me that this weekend I could expect a “reward.”

Her meaning was crystal clear. I only glanced at her from the corner of my eye, smirking, but the truth is it unsettled me that she said it in front of Thalia.

There’s no reason for it to matter. I don’t owe Thalia anything. I’m a free man. I can fuck who I want, when I want. And she belongs to another man.

Speaking of her man, Theo is right here with us, sitting at the table with a beer in hand. Which means Thalia’s sudden disappearance isn’t about sneaking off for some welcome quickie. Still, the thought alone grates at my teeth until my jaw aches, my fingers tightening around the glass of whiskey in my hand.

I don’t understand what’s happening to me.

I’ve managed to ignore her for more than a year. I was good at it. Ruthless, even. But instead of getting easier, it’s only getting harder.

The air is thick with the smell of grilled meat and smoke, laughter rising in uneven bursts around the terrace. Flames lick at the barbecue while Noah leans casually over it, turning the sizzling cuts with practiced ease.

“Who the hell are you glued to that phone with, Liam?” he asks, raising a brow as smoke curls into his face.

“Yes, man. You were on that damn thing the whole drive here, and you haven’t stopped since we arrived,” Chris chimes in from the side, his grin infuriatingly smug. “I’m surprised it hasn’t overheated and blown up by now.” He laughs at his own joke, head thrown back.

“Fuck off,” Liam mutters from where he’s sprawled lazily in a hammock, his voice dripping with irritation. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stalk me?”

Nick, relaxed in a chair with a beer in his hand, smirks as he turns his head toward Liam. “Come on, man. You could just tell us you’re in love,” he teases, making a show of winking.

The second the words leave his mouth, Liam finally locks his phone, his gaze snapping straight to Nick, cutting and unflinching.

“Like you told us you were in a relationship with our sister?”

His tone makes all my brothers chuckle.

From the corner, Zayn lets out a groan, low and heavy, before throwing back the rest of his whiskey in one shot. The sound of ice clicking against glass echoes as he slams it onto the table without saying a word.

Nick, of course, doesn’t falter. He leans back, lips tugging into that aggravatingly confident grin that only makes Liam and Zayn want to punch him more often than not.

“I was a little busy with Sierra,” he says smoothly, his voice edged with mischief. “Didn’t exactly have time to make an official announcement before the paparazzi plastered our faces all over the tabloids.”

“Nick…” Zayn’s voice is low, warning, almost a growl.

That’s all he says, but it carries enough weight.

The truth is, they’ve adjusted—at least on the surface. By now, both Zayn and Liam have begrudgingly accepted that Sierra is Nick’s wife. Still, there’s a line they’ll never let him cross. Sexual innuendos or even playful references to their sister? Off limits. They’ll shut it down every single time.

And yet, compared to how they reacted when they first found out Sierra and Nick were together—when they realized the relationship wasn’t a façade carefully arranged in one of our parents’ houses—this is nothing.

Back then, their fury had been volcanic. Both of them ended up drinking themselves into oblivion while the rest of us stood by, offering silent solidarity.

All the while, Nick and Sierra were here in London, blissfully untouchable, basking in the early days of their very real love story.

“Guys, the table is set, the potatoes are ready,” Irina calls from the doorway. “I think the desserts are almost done. How long do you need?”