25. June #2
Jagger’s dark gaze lands on his girl still tucked against his side, but instead of answering any of us, he announces, “Come on. Let me walk you through everything.” Jagger guides us down the strip of pavement, through the throngs of people, and toward the set of thrones perched on the stage.
It’s a little ridiculous and a lot over-the-top.
Gold accents. Maroon velvet. It’s plush and gaudy and luxurious and proof that the Harden Brothers do, indeed, have a thing for theatrics.
My mouth curves up as I take it all in. Gotta give Ford credit.
He really knows how to take things to the next level.
All of the men are dressed in black or red.
Each and every face is painted as a skull or a demon or a zombie or a monster from the underworld.
My pulse ratchets at the sight. Meanwhile, every woman is dressed from head to toe in white-ish clothes, proving Violet’s intel was on point.
If only I knew the reasoning behind tonight’s dress code. That would be super helpful.
“You,” Jagger pecks Violet’s lips. “Come with me. And you two,”—he gives Lexie and me a look—“stay here, and stay close.”
“Oh?” The challenge is clear in Lexie’s voice as she crosses her arms, giving Jagger a scathing look.
“Or don’t,” he offers. “I can always have Hawke hunt you down and throw you over his shoulder.”
Lexie juts out her bottom lip. “I’ll be good.”
Violet’s amusement echoes in the vicinity as she climbs up the stage, following Jagger.
When his butt hits the cushion, he pats his thigh, and she climbs into his lap until her ankles are crossed and hang over the opposite arm of the throne.
See what I mean? They’re adorable. Now, if I could figure out what Lexie and I are supposed to do, that would be lovely.
Rocking back on my sneaker-clad heels, I whisper to Lexie, “What’s happening?”
“No, uh, no idea.” She gulps, clearly distracted.
Following her line of sight, I find the culprit behind said distraction.
Legs spread, tattooed forearms on full display, and head cocked, Hawke Harden watches from his perch on the stage, his gaze zeroed in on the one and only Lexie Morgan.
Thanks to the skull face paint, his dark eyes appear hollow, and his jaw is set tight.
Ho. Ly.
I fight the urge to squirm from being in the mere vicinity of said gaze.
Hawke has always been relatively quiet, all things considered, but I’ve never felt someone’s emotions so pointedly until this very moment.
Heck, the tension is so thick I almost feel like I'm interrupting something.
Shifting a few inches away from Lexie, I continue my perusal of the space in search of answers.
Well, would you look at that. Cobie? Her honey brown hair peeks out from the edge of a black beanie, and her face is painted with a skull, just like her siblings.
Without a word, she walks across the stage and sits on the empty throne beside Hawke.
Behind her, Roman follows, one sure foot after another.
As she sits down, he moves behind the throne and grabs the edge with one hand.
He’s standing like a bodyguard. Like a fortress.
Impenetrable. Heck, it’s so…daunting, he might as well have a stamp on his forehead that reads, “Don’t mess with me,” and by me, he means her.
Cobie Harden. Baby of the family and uncrowned princess.
I’ve never seen her at these events, not that I have much to go on, but still.
Are her brothers bringing her into the fold?
Has she always been part of it, but is only now physically attending?
It’s possible, I guess. Gah! Their family is so fascinating.
The way they interact. The way they look out for each other.
The way they act as one, yet so easily stand on their own, too.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” someone yells behind me.
I turn with the rest of the crowd. It parts like the Red Sea, revealing a sexy as sin Ford dressed in black.
He looks as good as I imagined. Black button-up.
Open collar. The sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his hair pushed back, revealing expert skull makeup to match the rest of his siblings.
Never knew I had a thing for suspenders, but with the way Ford’s sporting them?
Yeah. Yeah, I most definitely have a thing for suspenders.
“Welcome to Harden Night!” he yells.
Cheers ensue, making my ears ring as he takes the steps two at a time before finding center stage.
Ford takes a bow, then raises his arms from his sides, greeting the audience like a seasoned rock star.
I wonder if his uncle showed him the ropes, or maybe it’s hereditary?
Neither option would surprise me. My lips tingle at the reminder of our last interaction.
Me in his room. His hand cupping my cheek. The way his mouth moved against mine.