Chapter 55
fifty-five
Liana
The silk slides over my skin like it remembers me. Cool at first. Then warm. Then something else entirely.
I stand in front of the mirror a little longer than I should, fingertips trailing down the line of the emerald fabric as it curves over my waist, my hips, the soft swell of my stomach that still barely shows but feels different to me now.
Everything feels different. My body feels…
alive in a way that’s almost overwhelming.
The dress clings in all the right places. It shouldn’t feel this intimate. But it does. Because I remember this dress. Not just trying it on. Not just the way it looked.
The dressing room.
The mirror.
Jackson’s hands.
The way he’d followed me inside before I could even think, the way the door had barely clicked shut before his mouth was on mine, before his hands were everywhere, before the silk had become something else entirely, something that slid against my skin while he held me up against the wall like he couldn’t not touch me.
My breath stutters slightly.
Heat curls low in my stomach, slow and familiar, my thighs pressing together instinctively.
God.
Even now.
Even just thinking about it.
My fingers curl lightly into the fabric at my hips as I exhale, steadying myself, but it doesn’t quite work. The memory lingers, warm and insistent, threading through me in a way that makes me feel a little unsteady.
A little hungry.
“Not the time,” I whisper to myself, even though my lips curve faintly.
My body doesn’t listen. It hasn’t been listening lately.
I smooth my hands down the dress one last time, adjusting the neckline slightly, checking the fall of it, the way it catches the light, and then I turn toward the door.
The second I step out, everything stops. All three of them are already there, waiting, and for a moment, I forget how to move.
Suits.
Sharp lines.
Dark colors.
Power in a way that feels almost unfair.
Zach looks like control wrapped in quiet strength, his jacket sitting perfectly on his shoulders, his tie neat, composed, every inch of him steady and grounding.
Jackson is… something else entirely. His suit is black, tailored just a little tighter, his tie already slightly loosened like he couldn’t help himself, like restraint has never quite been his strong point.
And Elijah, my breath catches.
Black.
All black.
Structured.
Precise.
Everything about him controlled in a way that makes something inside me pull tight.
His gaze finds me first.
It drags over me slowly, not rushed, not hungry in the way I expect, but heavy, deliberate, like he’s taking everything in and holding it there.
The others follow.
And the silence stretches just long enough that I feel it in my chest.
“Fuck…” Jackson breathes under his breath.
Zach exhales slowly, his head tilting slightly like he’s trying to take me in properly.
“You look…” He trails off, shaking his head faintly. “You look incredible.”
Elijah doesn’t speak straight away.
But I feel him. Even before he moves.
“You look beautiful,” he says finally, his voice low, steady, carrying something deeper underneath it.
Warmth blooms through me instantly.
I swallow, suddenly very aware of the way they’re all looking at me.
“You’re one to talk,” I manage, a soft laugh slipping out. “All of you… you look—”
I shake my head slightly.
“It’s going to be very hard to keep my hands off you tonight.”
Jackson’s grin is immediate.
“Good,” he says, stepping closer. “Because you don’t have to.”
Zach’s hand comes to my waist, slow, grounding.
“We belong to you,” he murmurs.
Something in my chest tightens at that.
My gaze flicks briefly to Elijah.
“I don’t think public groping is exactly acceptable,” I say lightly, even though my voice is softer now.
Elijah steps in close behind me.
Close enough that I feel the heat of him.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, steady, controlled, and he turns my head slightly before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Not rushed.
Not distant either.
Just… measured.
“If anyone has a problem with it,” he murmurs against my mouth, “they can take it up with me.”
A shiver runs through me.
God.
“Are you ready?” Zach asks softly.
I nod.
“I’m ready.”
The drive there is quiet. My hand rests in Elijah’s, his thumb moving slowly over my skin in absent strokes that keep me anchored, even while my thoughts flicker between nerves and anticipation.
When we pull up, I see it immediately. The estate. Wide. Elegant. Old in that way that feels intentional rather than dated.
And the media. Not overwhelming. But enough. The carpet is already laid out, cameras waiting, lenses turning toward the car as soon as we stop.
My stomach tightens.
This is real.
This is happening.
Before the door opens, Jackson looks at me.
“This is it,” he says quietly. “If you’re not sure—”
“I am,” I cut in softly.
I meet his gaze. Then Zach’s. Then Elijah’s.
“I want this,” I say. “With all of you.”
Something settles between us. Elijah’s hand tightens slightly around mine.
“Then we do it.”
The door opens. The air shifts. And we step out.
The sound hits immediately. Cameras. Voices. Movement. But I don’t focus on that.
I focus on the way Elijah moves beside me, my arm threaded through his, his body solid and steady next to mine as we walk forward.
We stop. Turn.
And then his arm slides around me, pulling me back against him, his hand firm at my waist, his presence wrapping around me from behind.
Zach steps in on one side.
Jackson on the other.
And before I can even think, they’re touching me.
Jackson’s lips press warm against my cheek. Zach’s mouth brushes slowly along the curve of my neck. And Elijah, his hand tightens at my waist as his mouth claims mine.
It’s brief. But it’s enough. The reaction is instant. The sound of cameras explodes. Questions overlap.
“Jackson... are you...”
“Is this...”
“Who is she...”
Jackson steps forward before it can spiral, his hand still brushing mine as he moves.
“Yes,” he says clearly.
The noise dips slightly.
“We’re in a committed relationship with Liana Waverly,” he continues, his voice steady, unwavering. “And we’re making that public.”
More questions. Faster now. He doesn’t engage.
“We’re not answering anything else tonight,” he says calmly. “Other than that we are committed to each other.”
And then we’re moving again. Inside. The warmth of the room hits me immediately, soft lighting, music drifting through the space, conversation layered over itself in a way that feels almost surreal after the intensity outside.
Evelyn is there almost instantly. She pulls me into a hug, laughing softly.
“Well,” she murmurs, “that was one hell of a way to arrive.”
I laugh against her shoulder, still a little breathless.
“Subtlety isn’t really our thing.”
“Clearly.”
Mark stands beside her, watching us carefully.
“PR is going to have fun with that,” he says dryly.
Jackson shifts slightly beside me.
“Is that a problem?”
There’s a moment. Elijah tenses behind me. Mark studies us. Then shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “But we’ll manage it properly.”
“That’s fine,” Zach says easily.
And just like that, it’s handled.
We move further into the room, and I catch sight of Lucian and Christian.
They approach, greeting the men first, then me.
But it’s Lucian that catches my attention.
Not because of what he says, but because of what he’s not saying.
His gaze drifts to Evelyn.
Specifically, to the way Mark’s hand rests lightly at her waist as they walk.
Something flickers in Lucian’s expression.
Sharp.
Quiet.
Possessive.
And then it’s gone.
Zach leans in slightly.
“I’m going to check in with my sister,” he murmurs. “Save me a dance?”
“Always,” I say softly.
He kisses me before stepping away.
Jackson lingers only a moment longer before he’s pulled into conversation, and I let him go easily, watching him move through the room with that same confidence he carries on the ice.
And then, it’s quieter again. Just for a moment. Until Zach returns.
A champagne flute in his hand, filled with orange juice.
“For you,” he says softly.
“Thank you.”
His fingers brush mine as I take it.
“Dance with me?”
I don’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
The music slows as we step onto the floor. It shifts around us. Softens. Zach’s hand slides into mine, his other settling at my waist, and the moment he draws me in everything else fades.
It’s not rushed.
It’s not showy.
It’s… intentional.
Every step measured.
Every movement connected.
We move together easily, my body falling into the rhythm without thought, his hand guiding, steady, grounding.
I can feel people watching.
I know they are.
But it doesn’t touch me.
Not here. Not like this.
“I’m glad we came,” I murmur softly.
Zach’s hand tightens slightly at my waist.
“So am I,” he says quietly.
We turn slowly, the room blurring around us, the music wrapping around us in a way that feels almost private despite everything.
By the time the song ends, my skin is warm, my breath just slightly uneven.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice low.
“Yeah,” I say, though I press a hand lightly to my chest. “Just… a little hot.”
“You want to sit?”
I shake my head.
“I think I just need some air.”
He nods immediately. We move off the floor, passing Elijah.
“Just stepping outside for a minute,” Zach says.
Elijah’s gaze flicks over me, sharp, assessing.
“Don’t go far.”
“I won’t.”
And then we step out into the night. The cool air hits my skin instantly, and I inhale deeply, letting it settle into me.
Everything feels lighter. Like something has shifted. Like something has finally started to move forward.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel it.
Not just survival.
Not just recovery.
But something else. Something steadier. Something real. Something like… hope.