Page 21 of Knot Ruined

Violet and I tangoed.

And when I say tangoed, I mean we full-on committed, complete with dramatic dips, exaggerated expressions, and a final pose that left the guests in stitches.

Thanks, Mom, for forcing me into dance lessons as a kid.

Between the dancing, the pictures, and the introductions, I’d met a dozen of their business associates. They were all nice enough, polite, and refined, but none of them made quite the impression that Marco and his wife did.

Marco had been charming in a way that felt effortless, but it was Savy who stole the show. Savy was hilarious. Loud, opinionated, full of sharp wit and energy, the kind of woman who took up space in the best way possible. I liked her immediately.

Romano’s fingers are threaded firmly through mine, his grip warm and solid, while Kingston’s palm rests against my lower back, the pressure grounding, possessive.

As we step out of the venue, the cold air bites at my exposed skin, but the warmth radiating from my husbands is enough to keep me steady. My husbands.Mine.

Outside, guests are still mingling, their laughter drifting through the crisp night air, clouds of breath curling into the dark.

Everything seems soft, hazy, like a dream I don’t want to wake from.

And then—

Chaos.

Because suddenly, glitter is raining down on us.

Lots of it.

I squeal, the high-pitched sound escaping before I can stop it, and without thinking, I grab Romano’s arm and make a run for it.

“Come on!” I shriek, dragging him with me as I dart forward to outrun the absolute disaster falling from the sky. “Hurry, or it’ll take a thousand years to get it all off!” Romano’s laughter rings out, bright and full, his grip tightening in mine as he stumbles after me.

Behind us, I can hear Jace’s deep, rolling chuckle, Voss’s unrestrained amusement, and Kingston’s smooth, knowing laugh.

They don’t run. They don’t have to. Because I know, somehow, I’ll be the one suffering the consequences of this.

By the time we reach the SUV, I’m breathless, glitter-dusted, and entirely too giddy.

We climbed in quickly, Romano practically pulling me onto his lap as the others filed in behind us. The interior is warm, and the scent of leather and something unmistakably alpha is wrapping around me.

The driver and another security guy sit up front, their presence a silent reminder that I’ve just married into something much bigger than myself. Kingston leans forward, murmuring something too low for me to catch, his voice calm, absolute. The driver nods once, adjusting the wheel. Then Kingston presses a button. A divider slides up, sealing us into a private, enclosed space.

I sigh happily, my chest warm, my body still thrumming with the aftershocks of the night.

I take a moment to look at each of them, letting the reality of this settle into my bones.

Kingston smiles at me, and it’s not the sharp, commanding grin he wore speaking to the guests. This one is soft, genuine—his eyes crinkling at the corners, warmth radiating from him like the steady burn of a fireplace on a cold night.

Jace sits beside him, watching me with an expression I can’t quite place—gentle, thoughtful, maybe even reverent. His hard edges seem to ease, just for a moment, and the sight of it sends a strange flutter through my chest.

Voss’ gaze is different. His brown eyes flash with something unreadable, something dark and knowing. But then his lips twitch as if he’s forcing back a smirk.

I’m starting to learn that Romano is a golden retriever trapped in the body of a man—a chaotic, reckless ball of energy, too big for the space he takes up but impossible to look away from. He proves it a second later when he throws an arm around me, pulling me into his warmth without hesitation.

I laugh, snuggling into him, my smile still stretched wide. “Thank you,” I murmur, looking at each of them again, meaning every word. “All of you. Thank you for making our wedding such a magical experience. I know this isn’t real, but… thank you.”

The shift is instant. I feel Romano tense, his body going unnaturally still, his usual lightheartedness pausing for a beat.

Then, from across the space, Voss chuckles. The sound is low, dark, rich—coiling around me like a slow-moving predator. A shiver rolls down my spine. “Oh, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice pure sin, “we never said this would be fake.”

I barely have time to process that before Jace speaks. I've noticed that he doesn’t talk much.

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