Chapter 83
BELLA
Dallas, Texas
The top floor of the restaurant Savannah reserved feels like something out of a dream, all glass and height and whispered wealth.
The city of Dallas stretches out below us in a glittering sprawl, lights blinking like a sea of stars scattered upside-down.
Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap the circular space, curving with the slow, almost imperceptible rotation of the room.
Every angle offers a different constellation of skyline, skyscrapers lit up in blues and golds, highways glowing like arteries in motion.
Inside, the restaurant is all quiet elegance.
Sleek walnut tables. Black velvet chairs.
Soft jazz curling through hidden speakers like smoke.
There’s the faint scent of citrus and expensive wine in the air, layered over candle wax and wood polish.
Each place setting is pristine—crystal glassware, weighty silver utensils, and linen napkins folded with military precision, like someone ironed them into submission.
I’m seated between Cade and Roman.
Lex is directly across from me, a wall of black-on-black elegance with the top of his shirt slightly undone, all heat and carved jaw tension.
Daniel sits next to him, calm as ever, and Irina is perched on Lex’s other side like a marble queen draped in—shocker—ice-blue silk.
Her posture is flawless. Her silence is louder than anything she could say.
Cade’s hand rests lightly on the back of my chair, his fingers brushing the bare skin of my shoulder every so often. I keep my shoulders squared, my smile smooth, my breathing even. And I do my best not to spill anything on this dress.
It’s strapless, deep burgundy silk that clings and sweeps in all the right places.
Ruched along the side, slit high enough to show thigh when I cross my legs.
I know it’s borderline scandalous. I also know Irina hasn’t stopped side-eyeing me since I sat down, her lips pressed in a line so sharp it could probably cut glass.
Which only makes me love this dress even more.
Daniel is talking to the waiter, ordering a bottle of Barolo. Cade’s flipping through the menu, but I already know what I want.
“Old fashioned,” I say when the server stops by, flashing a soft grin. “Extra orange peel, please.”
Clay chuckles. “That’s my girl.”
Roman lifts a brow. “Strong choice.”
I shrug. “Learned it from Clay.”
The waiter nods and heads off, menus disappearing with him. Conversation dips for a moment, the quiet hum of the restaurant filling the space—silverware clinking, low jazz bleeding through the speakers, the scent of seared steak and truffle pasta curling in the air.
By the time the drinks arrive, the tension’s already softened. Daniel’s chatting with the sommelier, Clay’s trading a story with Roman, and I’m trying not to inhale the bread basket before the entrées show up.
A few minutes later, the food arrives. Plates gliding onto the table one by one, each one a small work of art.
Steam curls upward, carrying the smell of garlic and herbs, butter and wine.
Forks scrape, glasses clink, someone laughs softly down the table.
For a moment, everything feels easy. Warm light, good food, and the rare quiet that settles over people who finally have nothing to survive for a few minutes.
“Alright,” Clay says, adjusting his cufflink. “What’s the lineup for tomorrow?”
I take a sip, my voice a little hoarse. “Just two more. One trio. Latin. Faster, sharper, more grounded. It’s a firestorm if we hit it clean.”
Savannah leans in with a smile. “After what we saw today? I have no doubt. You girls were stunning. That trio… I’ve never seen chemistry like that.”
Ellie beams, “This one’s even hotter, Mom.”
I nod. “We’ve been sitting on it all season. Javi saved it for Nationals on purpose.”
Lex grins. “He’s a bastard. I respect it.”
“And the duet?” Clay asks, looking toward me.
“Me and Josh close the entire day with our Pillowtalk routine.”
“It’s slower,” Ellie adds, “but it simmers. Way darker than tonight.”
Lex grins, not even pretending to behave. “My baby’s sexy in that one. Like fucking foreplay on a stage.”
Cade groans. “Lex.”
Lex shrugs, completely unapologetic. “What? We’re all family here. And by now, I think it’s safe to say everyone knows how the three of us are.”
“Good lord,” I mutter, taking another drink.
Ellie grins and points at me with her straw. “He’s not wrong. There’s enough sexual tension in your trio to power a small country. I’m just glad it’s somewhat choreographed now.”
Savannah’s cheeks turn pink, but she’s still smiling.
Clay just raises a brow and mutters, “Remind me to keep the grandkids far from the Nationals footage.”
Roman leans in, voice low, calm. “You were extraordinary tonight.”
I meet his eyes and this time, I let it sit there a moment. Let the words land. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “For being here.”
His brows lift slightly, surprised. I reach out and rest my hand on his.
“I mean it,” I add. “You didn’t have to show up. But you did. You’ve been showing up, you keep showing up. For me.”
Lex doesn’t move but I feel the shift across the table, the tension pulling tight through his shoulders. His jaw clicks once and he takes a slow sip like it might keep him from exploding.
Roman smiles and it’s not the polished, intimidating one he usually gives. It’s quieter. Gentler. “I wouldn’t have missed it,” he says. “But Bella, when we’re back in New York, I’d like you to come by The Obsidian. There’s something I want to talk to you about, something I want to give you.”
Lex leans forward. He doesn’t say a word, but his silence is louder than anything.
I nod, slow and steady. “Okay. I’ll come by when we’re back.”
Roman’s smile lifts again. “That sounds perfect.” He picks up his drink, swirls it once. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”
I let out a slow breath. “Honestly? I don’t know. I saw the lineup. It looks like three Latin routines. Everyone’s trying to impress the guest judge. Our piece is good, it is, but…”
“But?” he prompts gently.
“It’s not really my call,” I admit. “And I just want to make sure we stand out. This round matters. It can make or break us for Worlds in Paris, and I’m not sure doing what everyone else is doing is the right move.”
Roman tilts his head. “You’re strong. If you feel something’s off, why don’t you change it?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Because you’ve clearly never met Javi.”
He starts to say something else, but is interrupted by Ellie’s loudmouth.
“Wait!” Ellie says, pointing across the table. “Do you all remember the Range Rover?”
I nearly choke on my pasta. “Oh no. Here we go.”
“The Range Rover?” Daniel asks, arching a brow.
“The girls stole my son’s car.” Clay replies sipping his drink.
Cal’s already grinning. “You didn’t even steal the right fucking car, Bells.”
Cade sets his fork down slowly and looks at me. “That was my car.”
“We were sixteen,” I say, smile creeping up like it’s got a vendetta. “Barely even a crime.”
“You stole my birthday present.”
“We thought it was Cal’s,” Ellie says with a dramatic shrug.
“He drove the white one,” Cade grits out. “You jacked mine and took it to a bonfire in the Hamptons.”
I grin, utterly unbothered. “It was a really good bonfire.”
“You came back at two a.m. with sand in the floorboards, a dented mirror, and someone else’s hoodie in my backseat.”
Cal snorts. “You mean Micah’s hoodie? She wore that thing for like two months.”
Roman leans forward, sipping his scotch, eyes flicking to me. “You stole a Range Rover?”
“It was more like a creative borrowing situation,” I say sweetly.
Daniel raises a glass toward Cade. “I’m just impressed she brought it back.”
“They abandoned it in the driveway with the engine still running!” Cade says, scandalized.
Savannah covers her mouth, laughing. “Give them a break, they were only sixteen.”
“And completely feral,” Cade mutters.
Roman tilts his glass toward me. “Remind me to never give you keys to anything that has significant value.”
“No promises,” I shoot back, raising my brows.
Lex stills. Not obvious or loud, just a sharp little shift in his jaw and a flick of his eyes toward me like the idea of me in another guy’s hoodie might kill him on the spot. I don’t say anything, but I see it. The tension. The tick in his temple.
Clay leans in. “You posted a photo of you two standing on the hood. Tagged Hamptons Vibes.”
I just shrug. “Got good engagement.”
Cade nudges me gently, eyes warm. “Sweetheart, remember when Ellie had a crush on your brother?”
Ellie groans. “Cade!”
He raises a hand in mock defense. “What? I barely knew the guy. Just remember her begging you to bring him to that one pool party.”
“She made brownies,” I say, pointing my fork at Ellie. “Bribery in its purest form.”
Ellie hides behind her wine glass. “He was hot and mysterious and he fixed my laptop without making me feel stupid.”
Cade chuckles. “You swooned because he knew how to bypass parental controls.”
“Don’t mock my type.” Ellie laughs. “He was kind. Always made me feel safe.”
Cal groans. “Good God. What is with you two and brothers?”
That breaks the tension. Laughter spills out across the table. Ellie snorts into her wine, Cade covers his face with his hand, and even Roman’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile.
Cal leans back, eyes gleaming. “Yo. Speaking of you girls and terrible boyfriend choices—remember the prep school twins?”
“Absolutely not.” I groan immediately.
Ellie covers her face. “Cal, shut up.”
“They had a band,” he says, already cracking up. “Remember? A fucking band.”
“They had a damn publicist,” Cade mutters.
I smile into my drink. “They were entrepreneurial.”
“They wore matching pastel polos,” Ellie says. “Like… daily.”
“Had a driver named Philippe,” Cal adds.
“Oh my God,” I laugh. “Philippe used to give us snacks from that chauffeur cooler.”
“Bells, remember when they tried to serenade us at that rooftop party,” Ellie says.