Page 50 of Blake

"Blake's been so good to me," Savannah confided, absentmindedly sucking on her juice. "But sometimes I worry that if I let him take care of me fully, I'll lose my independence."

"Girl, I can relate," Rosie replied with a knowing smile, leaning against a wall covered in whimsical murals. "That’s the problem with the Marks boys. They want full control.”

“Is something going on between you and Nash?” she asked, her inner investigative journalist taking over for a moment.

Rosie didn’t look upset by the question. “Nash provided security for me a couple of years back, and we . . . well, we kissed. But then he backed off, saying it wasn't appropriate."

"Really?" Savannah asked, curiosity piqued.

"Yep. Once the job was over and I no longer needed protection, I asked him if we could pick up where we left off. He told me no but then he hired me to work behind the bar. I felt like that was mixed messages, but he still insists that we can't be together because I'm his employee now. It’s all a bit confusing." Rosie rolled her eyes. "And now we're stuck in this endless cycle of flirting and bickering. It's infuriating."

Savannah sighed. "Are Daddies always this confusing?"

"Oh, definitely," Rosie said. "But you know what? We're strong women, Savannah. We can handle it. And if Blake’s the one for you, he’ll support you in that journey." She tutted. “Unlike Nash, who’s just a tease.”

"Thanks, Rosie." Savannah beamed, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “I think you’re right.”

There had to be a balance between being coddled and fighting for justice. She wanted both—safety and adventure. If Blake was the right guy for her, he’d understand that. Gently setting down her juice carton, she spoke up, "I want to show Blake that I can be his Little, but also stand up for myself and be brave."

Rosie grinned, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. "You should! Trust me, Savannah, Blake wouldn't want to change you. If anything, he'll be proud of your strength and independence."

"Really?" Savannah's heart swelled with hope, her doubts beginning to dissipate.

"Absolutely," Rosie insisted. “Unlike Nash, who seems to want me under the thumb and in his line of vision, but nowhere near his, uh, pants department.” She cackled. “Pants department! What a ridiculous phrase!”

Emboldened by Rosie's support, Savannah felt a surge of determination. She would prove to Blake—and herself—that she could be both his Little and a superstar investigative journalist. The balance she sought was within reach; all she had to do was embrace it.

“Rosie,” she said, “I’m going out for a while.”

Rosie sat up straight. “Outout? Is that wise?”

Savannah smiled. “I spent my whole life out there before I met Blake. I think I can manage it, don’t you?”

Rosie grimaced. “I’m not really meant to let you go anywhere. And there are a bunch of games left I was hoping to play with you. There’s painting, skipping, Snakes and Ladders—”

“All of those things sound great,” said Savannah, “but there’s something I want to do first.” She paused. “You know, Blake told me he wanted my help when the time was right. Well, given what he’s up to tonight, I think the time is more right than ever.”

Rosie took a deep breath. “Well . . . I guess ifyou’regoing to do something wild and brave, maybe I should, too. When Nash gets back, I’m going to ask him to kiss me.”

“You should!” agreed Savannah. “Let’s pinky promise.”

“Okay,” said Rosie, cackling like a supervillain now. “The Marks boys might be Paladin Security, but we’re the Brave Girls.”

“The Brave Girls,” agreed Savannah with a smile.

Chapter fifteen

BLAKE

Blake scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as he took in the opulent surroundings.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and walls were adorned with expensive paintings. Tables were decked out with elegant tablecloths and centerpieces made of rare orchids under glass. Expensive jewelry sparkled under the bright lights and the air was heavy with the scent of perfume and expensive colognes. There was another smell, too, something more unsavory; money and power. The soft sounds of classical music played in the background, mixed with the low murmur of conversations and clinking glasses.

It was absolutely, one-hundred percent, not Blake’s scene.

"Quite the event, huh?" Jax said, adjusting his cufflinks. His brother's hacking skills had gotten them through the door, but now they needed to blend in.

"Let’s get this over with," Blake responded gruffly.

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