Chapter 27 Naomi #2
Her tone casts a spell, the same way it always does.
My father looks down at her, and his stern expression softens instantly.
His shoulders relax, his mouth shifts from a snarl to something almost tender.
“You’re right, Solèy,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now.
It’s as if she pulls the anger right out of him.
He presses a kiss to her forehead, and for a moment, there’s silence.
The kind of silence that demands attention. My brothers, Christian, and even I—we all freeze, swallowing the diffusion of a live bomb. No one else in the world can tame Alaric Blaine the way Bethany does.
As if sensing my turmoil, Jaxon strolls up, all confidence and maddening charm—as if I need this—cutting the tension with ease.
“Hey, Dr. B,” he says, a broad smile spreading across his face as he shakes my father’s hand.
“Jaxon!” My father’s voice booms again, but this time, it’s warm, welcoming. He grips Jaxon’s shoulder as if he’s one of his own, his scowl replaced with something close to approval. “Good to see you, son.”
“Good to see you too, Dr. B,” Jaxon says smoothly, shoving his hands in his pockets, somehow managing to toe the line between respectful and casual.
“Which reminds me, I was just telling Naomi—word is, half the industry’s trying to keep up with you.
You’ve practically got them scrambling to figure out how you’re running things, especially in cybersecurity.
Smart homes, self-driving cars… everything’s connected, and no one’s even close to keeping it secure like you are.
Honestly, if you keep pushing, this time next year you’re going to be the one to redefine the whole game. ”
My father’s chest swells slightly at the mention of his company, pride shining through the cracks of his gruff demeanor. “It’s coming along,” he says, his voice still heavy but now carrying an air of satisfaction.
“That’s incredible,” Jaxon says, tilting his head like he’s genuinely impressed. “I’ll need to get my hands on some of that tech for my company, you know. Maybe work a deal out with you?”
My father’s expression softens even more, his lips twitching like he might crack a smile. “We’ll see,” he says, the stern edge in his voice still lingering but less sharp now.
“And Mrs. B,” Jaxon continues, his grin shifting into something smoother, as he pops a kiss on my mother’s cheek, “you look stunning, as always.”
My mother laughs lightly, the sound delicate and graceful. “Oh, Jaxon,” she says, waving him off, though the warmth in her eyes is unmistakable.
I glance at Jaxon, shooting him a look that screams You’re ridiculous, but just smirk as always.
“Naomi,” Christian finally says, his voice low and strained, but still trying to sound normal. “Do you want to do the stage…the speech?” he stutters, still visibly shaken.
My father doesn’t even spare Christian a side glance; his attention is lingering on Jaxon instead. I can’t say I blame him. For once, I’m grateful Jaxon knows exactly how to steal the spotlight.
I nod, forcing the smile back on. “Yeah, let’s do this.”
I let him lead me toward a raised platform, where the mic is waiting. Everyone’s watching, the room growing quieter as people realize we’re about to speak.
Christian stumbles next to me, his hand still clamped around my waist, and I grit my teeth.
I’ve done this a million times—put on the face, say the right words, and charm everyone in the room. But tonight, it feels harder. He pulls me tighter, closer, and my skin gets prickly. I just want him off me.
Clearing my throat, I hold my smile steady as I grab the mic.
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” I begin, my voice smooth.
I don’t know how I manage to sound so calm when inside, I feel like I’m tearing at the seams. “It means the world to Christian and I to have you here, to celebrate this… next chapter of our lives.”
Christian grins at the crowd, his hand drifting lower, dangerously close to inappropriate again. I can feel the eyes on us, but I keep talking, trying to speed through the speech we planned.
My voice is steady, but inside, I’m begging for it to be over. I’m not sure what’s worse—the heat of his touch or the weight of everyone watching.
My mother’s loving gaze anchors me. My father’s expression is unreadable, but I know him well enough to know he’s watching Christian like a hawk. And my brothers look about ready to skewer their future brother-in-law over a fire pit.
The applause is polite when I finally finish, and Christian leans in to whisper something, but I’ve already started moving. The sound of hands clapping fades into a dull roar behind me.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I push through the press of bodies, polite smiles, and champagne flutes blurring past. I don’t care who’s watching; I just need space. A moment to breathe before I drown in all this performance.
I slip past a waiter and round the edge of the dance floor—
That's when I feel it—a pull, intense heat, his gaze trickling down my body like summer rain.
Jaxon.
He extends his hand, palm upturned, his eyes finding mine. “Dance with me,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. It brings back memories of the night we spent with his family.
I hesitate, my eyes flicking over the crowd. Christian is somewhere behind me, probably watching, and my parents are definitely keeping tabs on everything. But Jaxon’s hand doesn’t waver. He’s patient, unbothered by the curious eyes, as if he already knows my answer.
I slide my hand into his. And His fingers close over mine, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. He leads me to the floor with ease, his other hand finding the curve of my waist as if he’s done it a hundred times before.
“Thank you for saving me,” I say softly as we start to sway to the music.
Jaxon smirks. “You looked like you needed it.”
I let out a breath, a quiet laugh escaping before I can stop it. “Was it that obvious?”
“Let’s just say you were giving me ‘get me out of here’ vibes,” he teases, spinning me lightly before pulling me closer.
The world fades as we move, the weight of the speech, the eyes, Christian—all of it slipping into the background. Jaxon’s hand tightens on my waist, pulling me just a little closer, his breath brushing my ear.
“Don’t let him ruin your night,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t deserve that power.”
I glance up at him, caught in the intensity of his gaze. It’s the kind of look that feels like a promise.
The first few notes of “Dance Me to the End of Love” by The Civil Wars drift through the air, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. The music sways around us, and we move with it, his body guiding mine like he knows exactly how I’ll move.
“You look radiant tonight.” The words leave his lips, but somehow, they seem painful.
“Thank you.”
It’s all I can manage to say with my heart in my throat, tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I’ll never let them fall.
Every step, every slight shift of his fingers, ignites something in me, a whisper of a promise that I can’t ignore.
It’s more than a dance; it’s a conversation, one we dare not have with words.
It’s a confession neither of us is brave enough to speak aloud.
The music swells, but it’s the silence between us that says the most. Then, without warning, he twirls me.
His grip loosens just enough to let me spin—once, twice.
..three times—until the world blurs around me.
I stumble, laughter slipping out before I realize I hit a brick wall. Strong arms wrap around my waist, steadying me, and I feel a new warmth against me.
Nyx embraces me firmly, his presence a jolt of electricity, and when I meet his gaze, there’s a glint in his eyes—something dark, playful, and inviting.
“I guess it’s my turn then, Dollface,” he teases, voice low.
Before I can respond, he’s already moving, his hand sliding into mine and pulling me into his rhythm.
“He dances?” I say, raising a curious brow, and he gives me the most brilliant smile.
“You see...” he murmurs, pulling me close—so close I can barely breathe. He smells like smoky earth, like something citrusy and grounded all at once. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says. “You’d view me differently... if you’d let yourself.”
Where Jaxon is smooth and gentle, Nyx is intense, tethering me in the here and now, his steps a little rougher, demanding. I melt against him, letting him take the lead, our bodies pressed together, leaving no space for second thoughts.
“And what good could come of that?” I ask boldly.
“Why don’t you find out?” It’s less of a question and more of a challenge. “I might not be the brute you think I am.”
“I highly doubt that.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and before I know it, a smile tugs at my lips. His smile falls away, and mine does too.
For a moment, we are lost in each other, and for once, there’s no cocky edge, no armor—just disbelief, raw and unguarded.
“I’d sell my soul twice over, just to see you look at me like that again,” he says, voice low, almost reverent.
His gaze doesn’t waver—if anything, it deepens, like he’s caught in some spell I didn’t mean to cast.
I know what everyone is probably thinking—I can hear the murmurs, feel the unrelenting stares—but I can’t bring myself to care.
The music pulses through me, drowning out judgment, drowning out doubt.
And I’m somewhere else entirely, somewhere between the ghost of Jaxon’s touch and the reality of Nyx’s hands on me now.
And I wish I could stay frozen in this moment, not a care who’s watching, both of them—mine.