Page 99
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Hayden takes a deep breath and stops walking. Hands buried in his coat pockets, he studies the building behind us. “I was one of these kids once. But I didn’t have anyone helping me navigate the system. I was just shuffled from placement to placement. Most of the adults in my life made it clear I had no real future ahead of me. Maybe they would have been right, if I hadn’t met Gabriel and Ford.”
He looks at his two best friends, genuine affection crinkling the corners of his eyes as he gives them a small, grateful smile. “They made sure I had every opportunity for a bright future.”
“I’m so grateful you had them,” I say softly, daring to link my arm through his and lean into his solid warmth. “I understand what it’s like—not having support or a real family. Struggling financially. Feeling alone. When you have to handle everything yourself, it can be really, really overwhelming.”
Hayden covers my hand with his larger one. “It wasn’t easy. But everything worked out in the end. I found my family.”
I smile at Ford and Gabriel, my chest tight with emotion. I’m so thankful these three extraordinary men found each other.
We settle into the car, and I realize I’m starving. “Where are we going now?”
“We have dinner reservations,” Gabriel says with anticipation. “But first, we need to look presentable. These sweaters are adorable for spending time with children, but they won’t meet the restaurant’s dress code.”
A restaurant with an actual dress code. This should be interesting. I’ve never been anywhere that elegant before, although I’ve always wanted to experience that level of culinary artistry.
I expect we’ll return to the house to change, but instead we drive back into town and stop in front of an upscale shopping district. The men guide me into an elegant boutique filled with gorgeous dresses and impeccably tailored suits.
“Don’t you all have entire closets full of suits?” I can’t help asking.
“Of course,” Ford says with a slight smile. “But it’s nice to get something new, especially for special occasions.”
My stomach flutters at the implication that tonight qualifies as a special occasion.
“Pick out something beautiful,” Hayden says quietly, his hand warm at the small of my back.
I venture into the store, although I’m not entirely comfortable assuming they’ll purchase expensive clothing for me. But I know better than to argue when these men have made up their minds about something. I ask a salesperson for assistance, and she directs me to a stunning green dress that she says complements my eyes and will look amazing with my hair. I can’t judge the color myself, obviously, but I love the luxurious feel of the fabric and the way it drapes, and I want to wear something festive.
Once I slip the dress on in the fitting room, I don’t care that I can’t fully appreciate the rich emerald shade. It hugs my curves perfectly while flowing elegantly around my legs, and the fabric has a subtle shimmer that catches the light. I feel sophisticated and confident. For the first time in my life, I feel like I want to walk into a crowded restaurant and have everyone notice me.
I’ve never wanted that kind of attention before, because I always assumed I wouldn’t ‘deserve’ it. That people would whisper about me, laugh behind my back, mock my appearance. But now I have three incredible men who make me feel like I deserve to be the center of attention, and I’m starting to believe them.
When I step out to show off the dress, my breath catches in my throat.
All three men are wearing perfectly tailored bespoke suits in shades of dark gray, black, and midnight blue. They wear suits constantly for work, of course, but I’ve learned to distinguish between their everyday business attire and the kind of formal wear they choose when they want to make an impression.
And tonight, they clearly want to make an impression.
Fuck, they’re breathtaking. I imagine them claiming me while still wearing those perfectly tailored suits, and I have to take a steadying breath to calm the rush of heat.
“What do you think?” I manage to ask.
All three men turn their full attention to me, and I flush under their gazes, unconsciously sweeping my tongue across my bottom lip as desire coils low in my belly.
“Let’s go to dinner,” Ford says, his voice low.
I nod breathlessly. Dinner it is.
41
FORD
Holy fuck. Maeve looks so damn stunning.
She always looks beautiful, obviously—that’s nothing new. But seeing her in this dress, with the way the rich fabric catches the light and hugs every generous curve, the bold emerald color making her skin glow… it’s something else entirely.
I know she wouldn’t have dared wear something this striking just a few weeks ago. Maeve usually sticks to soft pastels or safe neutrals—colors that are pretty but don’t demand attention, that don’t hit you like a bolt of lightning. That’s appropriate for an executive assistant, but Maeve should understand her own worth by now. She should know she can command any room she enters, not fade into the background.
