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“No Mikhail today?” I asked when Arkane swerved the car out of the driveway. The ride was so smooth and fast that it felt like we were flying on soft clouds.

“He’ll be there later,” he answered, with his one arm slung casually on the steering wheel. I must be lucky to be one of the few to see this side of him.

“What if I kill you?” I joked.

“Please try,” he quipped.

I let out a sigh, wringing my fingers as my eyes shifted to the blurring view outside the window.

Not much made me nervous, but being in a room full of people who considered me an outsider definitely was one of them. I didn’t have the people charm like Shouma-kun to win over any crowd. I hated being in awkward situations and avoided them like an infection.

Within minutes, we were driving up a private road in the Uppers that led to massive black gates bearing the Stormhold family crest—two fierce thunderbirds clawing at each other amid a stormy sea of lightning and rough waves, with the words, “Brave the storm,” embedded proudly.

Everyone and their child in the Twins knew that it was the Stormhold family estate. Set on acres of lush land, the estate could easily house at least a hundred families. Not just that, it was built like a fort, with tall compound walls, bulletproof windows, and the best security in the world.

“Have you brought me here to kill me instead?” I asked dryly. They could very well have me dead within seconds. I didn’t have any weapons on me, and they had all the latest weapon tech in the world.

Arkane chuckled, helped me out of the car, and led me inside with a protective hand on my lower back. The air around him had a very familiar charge, same as the night at the Yellow Canary. Fear. Admiration. Respect.

I felt eyes on me, some ignorant, some curious, and some with outright disdain. It was very clear I was an outsider and that my presence wasn’t welcome. I usually didn’t care about such things, but this was a family gathering, and that made me uncomfortable. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I can still leave.” I stayed glued to Arkane’s side.

The interior was in an old, classic American style, exuding elegance and luxury with gleaming teak floors, expensive furnishings, and wide, airy windows.

“You’ll be fine.” Arkane slid me a smile as he grasped my hand tightly. “Don’t worry. You’re my guest, and no one would dare question me.”

Easy for him to say. It didn’t help that he was holding my hand now. How many people did his family have anyway? This place was filled.

We reached a wide ballroom of sorts that had the entire back wall open to an expansive lawn, with decorations that would put a wedding party to shame. Suddenly, I was grateful for my dress.

“Uncle Kane!” screamed a pair of voices that came from two very familiar little men who ran in glee toward us and crashed into Arkane in a fit of giggles.

A wide smile split Arkane’s lips as he bent to hug them. “Aldo, Nico. I see you haven’t changed one bit,” he said, tickling their sides, which only made them laugh harder.

“I told you not to run,” reprimanded another little boy who was about a foot taller than them. He reminded me of a younger version of Arkane, with how refined and proper he looked for his age. The boy should only be around eight, but I had no doubt that he would one day grow up to be a gentleman.

“Alessio.” Arkane grinned, ruffling his neatly kept hair.

“Uncle Kane, don’t mess my hair. Mamma said I had to look smart today.” A slight scowl tugged at his lips, but his voice was soft as he addressed his uncle.

“Wrestle fight, Uncle Kane!” Aldo and Nico shouted together. It seemed they did that a lot.

“Do you think you can win against me?” Arkane jested playfully, and not even a second later, the twins started to climb on him like a tree. Arkane faked the sounds of actually getting hurt while they basked in the glee of defeating their big, strong uncle.

“Boys, behave,” scolded a woman, approaching our side. “Now let your uncle be and go play.”

The twins only had to hear their mother say the word play before they scurried away from Arkane and ran out to the yard to play with the other kids of the family. Alessio, the eldest, shook his head with a sigh and followed them like he had no choice but to be their protector.

“Arkane,” she greeted him with a broad smile and pulled him into a hug. She was beautiful, standing tall, around five-foot-ten, with lean shoulders, wide hips, and glowing, long legs that peeked through the slit of her floor-length red dress. Her deep brown hair fell just inches below her chin, and she shared the same light green eyes as her father and Marcus.

“Amelia.” Arkane’s voice held warmth as he embraced his sister and nodded to the man beside her. Must be Santino Mancini, head of the Mancini family. His light brown eyes scrutinized me sharply, but that soon transformed into pure admiration when his wife returned to his side. There was no hiding his love for her.

Arkane took my hand in his, and his sister’s eyes went straight to that. “Amelia, Santino, meet Bellerose.”

A stiff smile played on Amelia’s lips as she regarded me.

“Nice to meet you, Amelia, Santino,” I offered politely with a small smile.

“Likewise,” she muttered before flicking her eyes back to her brother. “I didn’t realize you were bringing a guest.”