Chapter 27 Tashi #2
“Say,” Leo said, “just to make the experience easier for you, we’ll have the hotel photographer follow you and post your spa day online. Whip up excitement for the Gala. It’ll feel like you’re working.”
“I’m always working. But the Gala is by invitation only,” I said.
“Yes, but people will come to the hotel anyway,” Leo said.
“Is that wise? With everything going on?” I asked.
“Let’s save the spa day photos for tomorrow and post them before the gala pics,” said Orion.
“If we make it through the event,” Ares said darkly.
Orion smiled tightly. “I—we—are counting on you, brother. You haven’t failed us yet.”
Everyone agreed, but the nerves in my stomach fluttered like trapped wings. I tried to hide them under a smile for Marta’s sake, but every time the elevator chimed, or a staff member brushed past us, my breath hitched.
Still, Marta grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the spa floor like she’d been born for this. And I followed.
Salt scrubs. Oils. Hot stones. Steam rooms scented with eucalyptus. The Olympus Royale offered a kind of luxury I’d never experienced—pampering so elaborate it bordered on surreal, especially after spending the morning staring down a vent where a bomb might drop hours from now.
Through it all—every massage table, every treatment room, every fresh robe—I carried with me the knowledge that the men I loved were fighting to keep their world standing.
Marta and I had barely finished the last round of hair and makeup when one of the spa attendants arrived with a rolling wardrobe rack and a tablet listing each item.
The gowns were all breathtaking—midnight blues dripping with crystals, white silk that looked poured onto mannequins, jewel-toned chiffon that seemed to float all on its own.
But one dress—one—made my pulse trip.
The gold sequin gown was backless, with a daring, liquid V neckline and a hem sculpted to brush my ankles like spilled champagne.
Pinned to the left strap was a note, folded once.
Marta saw it before I did. “Ohhh…someone left you love mail.”
My fingers trembled slightly as I pulled the pin free and unfolded the note.
I’d love to see you in this, and out of it later. — L
Heat rushed through me from neck to knees.
Marta let out a whistle. “Marketing boy has game.”
I laughed despite everything twisting inside me. “He really does.”
She nudged me with her elbow. “Well? What are you waiting for? Try it on.”
I stepped behind the privacy curtain and slipped out of my robe. The gold gown slid over my skin like molten metal. The sequins caught the light with every movement, shimmering across my shoulders, hips, and down the lines of my body. When I stepped out, Marta clapped her hands.
“Oh my God,” she said. “They’re going to drop dead. All three.”
“Hopefully not tonight,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
Her smile softened. “Hey. Nervous is normal. Your men have this handled.”
I hoped she was right.
She slipped into her dress—a sleek black number with a thigh slit that made her look like she should be stepping off a private jet with sunglasses and a gun strapped to her leg. Her auburn hair framed her face in glossy waves.
“You look incredible,” I told her.
“Obviously.” She winked. “But next to you? I’m wallpaper.”
I was about to argue when someone knocked on the suite door—two firm raps, one short one, exactly Neville’s style. Ares had drilled me on those tiny security details without me even noticing it.
Marta opened the door.
Neville stood there in a charcoal tuxedo that somehow made him look sharper, colder, and more dangerous than usual. His bow tie was perfect. His cuff links gleamed. And his eyes—usually reserved, assessing—brightened noticeably when they landed on Marta.
“I’m here to take Marta to the Gala,” he said. His voice held its usual precision, but he added a small, unmistakable wink.
Marta arched a brow. “Now why would you need to escort me?”
“If you don’t mind,” Neville said smoothly, “you would be part of an undercover operation.”
She tilted her head. “Depends on where ‘undercover’ lands me. Is there danger involved?”
Neville’s mouth curved just slightly. “Possibly. You seem dangerous to me.”
Marta’s grin was slow and lethal. “Then let’s find out.”
Neville offered his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as if she’d been born for espionage.
Before they left, he leaned closer to her. “If anything feels wrong, you tell me immediately. You won’t be in danger, for real. Not on my watch.”
“Oooh,” Marta whispered as they stepped into the hall. “Protective and mysterious. Tashi, keep your door open. I may need a debrief later.”
Neville shut the door behind them with a confidence that made it clear—whatever role he’d assigned her, he trusted her to handle it.
And she trusted him to keep her safe.
The suite fell quiet.
Too quiet.
I glanced around, feeling the absence like a shift in air pressure. “Where are—?”
The bedroom door opened.
Orion stepped out first.
I lost my breath.
He wore a classic black tuxedo—clean lines, sharp lapels, and white shirt perfectly pressed. No tie. His collar opened just enough to be both elegant and indecent. His hair was styled back, but one rebellious lock fell across his forehead in a way that made him look devastatingly human.
“Tashi,” he said, voice low and warm, “you look like the whole damn Strip lit up at once.”
Before I could answer, Leo emerged behind him, straightening his cuff links. He wore a midnight-blue tux, tailored so precisely it looked sculpted on him. He gave me a slow, appreciative smile.
“That,” Leo said softly, “is worth designing a gala for.”
Ares appeared last.
He moved slowly—his ribs clearly bothering him—but the tux fit him like armor. Black-on-black, the tie knotted neatly at his throat. He looked like a military officer dragged into high society against his will. Reluctant. Deadly. Beautiful.
And his eyes softened the moment they landed on me.
“That,” he murmured, “is a damn weapon.”
Warmth prickled behind my eyes, unexpected and overwhelming.
Leo came to stand beside me, his voice brushing my ear. “You’re still scared.”
“I’m trying not to be.”
Ares crossed the room, slow but steady, then paused an arm’s length away. “You don’t have to pretend tonight,” he said. “You don’t have to be brave. We’ll take care of everything.”
Orion’s hand slid to the small of my back again—steady, grounding. “Nothing happens to you. Nothing.”
I nodded, swallowing past the knot in my throat.
Leo gestured gently. “Come sit a moment before we leave.”
I sank onto the edge of the bed, the gold sequins whispering against my skin. The men stood in front of me like a wall—protective, elegant, and deadly in their singular ways.
Ares knelt on one knee long enough to steady himself. He rested his hands lightly on my hips. “You’re safe with us.”
Then Leo knelt beside him, leaning into my thigh, lifting my hand to brush his lips across my knuckles.
Orion didn’t kneel. He stepped closer, cupped my jaw, and brushed his thumb across my cheek. “You don’t do any of this alone. Not now. Not ever.”
My eyes burned, but I blinked the tears back. “I just…want all of you safe.”
Ares exhaled. “We plan for worst-case scenarios. We never expect them. But we’re prepared.”
Leo added, “And we have Neville running the play. He doesn’t fail.”
Orion finished, “We go downstairs together. We act like everything is normal. And when Marcus shows, we end it.”
The weight of their confidence settled over me—not arrogance, not bravado, but belief, preparedness, and purpose.
A knock sounded at the door—two knocks, one pause, and three more.
Leo rose to open it. A uniformed staff member stood in the hall holding a sleek velvet case. “Your jewelry selection, Ms. George.”
“Oh,” I breathed.
Leo accepted the case, dismissed the staffer, and brought it to me. “Before you open it,” he said, “I want to let you know that this is a gift. From the three of us.”
Ares lifted the lid.
Inside was a gold choker—thin, elegant, shimmering like a line of starlight—and matching earrings that cascaded like droplets of light.
Not flashy or excessive. Perfect.
My throat tightened. “It’s beautiful.”
“Matches your dress,” Leo said.
“Matches you,” Orion corrected.
Ares stood carefully, wincing once. “Let me.”
I lifted my hair while he fastened the clasp. His fingers trembled minutely against my skin.
Leo slid the earrings into place, brushing my cheek with the back of his knuckles.
Orion stepped back, surveying the full picture. “My God,” he whispered. “We’re done for.”
I managed a shaky laugh. “You’re not supposed to flatter me into forgetting there’s a bomb threat.”
“Wrong,” Leo said cheerfully. “That’s exactly the plan.”
Ares checked his watch. “It’s time.”
Orion offered his arm. “You walk in with me.”
Leo moved to my other side. “We’ll follow.”
Ares paused at the door. “Ready?”
No. Yes. Maybe never.
But I lifted my chin. “Ready.”
We stepped into the hall.
Toward the Gala.
Toward danger.