28 #2
"So good! I made a friend and we're gonna build LEGOs tomorrow and I learned about Jupiter and—" Liam pauses for dramatic effect. "—I got a gold star on my math homework!"
"A gold star?" Landon's eyes widen theatrically. "That's it. This calls for a celebration."
He reaches into his car and produces a basket. Not a small basket. A massive, elaborate gift basket wrapped in cellophane and tied with a ridiculous bow.
Liam's eyes go huge. "Is that for me?"
"Who else would it be for?" Landon hands it over with a grin. "I figured a gold star deserved proper recognition."
I peer at the basket as Liam tears into the cellophane. It's filled with expensive chocolates—the kind that cost fifty dollars per piece. Gourmet snacks. A new LEGO set that is from a rare collector’s edition. A stuffed animal that looks handmade and luxurious.
"Landon," I start. "This is too much—"
"Nonsense." He doesn't even look at me. Just watches Liam's delighted face with that same soft expression. "Nothing is too much for this brilliant child."
"You're going to spoil him rotten," Evander points out. But he doesn't sound disapproving. More... amused.
"That's the plan." Landon ruffles Liam's hair. "Someone has to make sure he knows he's valued."
The words carry weight. Subtext I'm not entirely sure I understand.
But Liam doesn't need subtext. He just throws his arms around Landon's neck in an enthusiastic hug that nearly knocks them both over.
"Thank you, Landon! You're the best!"
"I know." Landon hugs him back with surprising gentleness for someone I've heard commit casual murder. "Now, I heard a rumor that someone might want ice cream before dinner. Any idea who that might be?"
"ME!" Liam bounces. "Can we? Please?"
He looks at me with those big, hopeful eyes that have gotten him everything he's ever wanted from me.
But I'm not the one he needs to convince anymore.
Evander and I exchange a look. His expression clearly says your call even though we both know he'd give Liam the moon if asked.
"One scoop," I concede. "And you have to eat all your vegetables at dinner."
"Deal!" Liam's already tugging on Landon's hand. "Come on, Landon! Let's go!"
Landon lets himself be pulled toward his car, still carrying the basket because Liam's hands are too full of excitement to manage it properly.
I watch them go—this terrifying psychopath who murders people without hesitation, being completely and thoroughly manipulated by a seven-year-old with a gap-toothed grin.
"He's good with him," I say quietly.
"He is." Evander's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. "Landon's not capable of normal emotional attachment. But children are different for him. Safer. Less complicated."
"Should I be worried?" I'm only half-joking.
"No." Evander's voice is firm. "Landon would die before he let anything happen to Liam. All of them would. Tristan, Lucius, Landon, me—Liam has four of the most dangerous men in the country as brothers ready to burn the world down to keep him safe."
The certainty in his voice makes something warm settle in my chest.
Because he's right. I've watched them with Liam over the past two weeks.
Watched Tristan patiently explain complex strategy concepts using toy soldiers.
Watched Lucius teach him self-defense moves "just in case.
" Watched Landon bring elaborate gifts and tell stories that make Liam laugh until he can't breathe.
They're monsters to the rest of the world.
But to Liam, they're just his overprotective, ridiculously wealthy big brothers who spoil him rotten and make him feel like the most important person alive.
"We should go," Evander murmurs against my ear. "Before Landon buys him the entire ice cream shop."
"Would he actually do that?"
"Last week he tried to buy Liam a pony. I had to physically stop him from making the purchase." Evander's tone is dry. "So yes. He would absolutely buy an ice cream shop if Liam expressed interest in owning one."
I laugh despite myself. "Our lives are insane."
"Our lives are perfect." He turns me to face him, his hands framing my face with a gentleness that still surprises me. "You. Me. Liam. This strange found family we're building. It's everything I never knew I wanted."
"Even with the corporate warfare and the psychopath best friends and the evil mother?"
"Especially with all of that." His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. "Because it means I get you. And nothing else matters."
He kisses me. Soft and sweet and completely inappropriate for a school pickup line, but I don't care.
When he pulls back, his blue eyes are warm. Happy. The expression is still so new, so unfamiliar on his face, that it makes my chest ache.
"Ready to go home?" he asks quietly.
Home. The penthouse that two months ago was a prison and now feels like exactly that—home.
Where Liam has a bedroom and Mrs. Calloway comes over to bake cookies and Evander builds LEGO sets on the living room floor without caring that it destroys his carefully cultivated image.
Where I wake up in Evander's arms every morning and fall asleep tangled with him every night.
Where the Princes of Ardencrest stop being terrifying Princes and become big brothers who spoil a seven-year-old rotten.
"Yeah," I say, leaning into his warmth. "Let's go home."
We walk to Evander's car—another sleek black vehicle that belongs to an asset class most people will only ever see in magazines.
Marcus is waiting by the driver's door, his expression professionally neutral even though I know he's been coordinating Liam's security detail with the intensity of a military operation.
"Mr. Laurent. Miss Lane." He nods at us both. "Master Liam is with Mr. Ashford?"
"Getting ice cream," Evander confirms. "They'll meet us back at the penthouse."
"Very good, sir." Marcus opens the back door for us.
I slide in first, Evander following immediately. The door closes with that expensive thunk that speaks of German engineering and bulletproof glass.
The privacy screen is already up—Marcus's way of giving us space without being asked.
Evander pulls me into his lap before I can even reach for my seatbelt. His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping over the faded marks he left three days ago.
"Evander—" I gasp. "We're in a car. Marcus is literally right there—"
"Marcus is paid very well to be discreet." His hand slides under my shirt, fingers tracing my ribs. "And I've been thinking about this all day."
"Thinking about what? Mauling me in the backseat while your driver pretends not to notice?"
"Thinking about you." His mouth moves to my ear. "About how you looked this morning. Naked in my bed. Your hair spread across my pillow. The sounds you made when I—"
"Stop." But I'm arching into his touch, my body betraying me immediately. "We can't."
"We can." His hand slides higher, cupping my breast through my bra. "We have twenty minutes before we're home. That's plenty of time."
"For what?"
"For me to make you come at least twice." His thumb brushes over my nipple, making me gasp. "Maybe three times if you're good."
"That's—" My protest dies as his other hand slides between my thighs, fingers pressing against denim with clear intent. "—not happening in a car."
"Challenge accepted." His voice is dark. Amused. "Let's see how long you last, babe."
He kisses me. Deep and consuming and absolutely filthy. And despite my protests, despite the knowledge that Marcus is less than three feet away, despite everything that says this is a terrible idea—
I kiss him back.
Because this is my life now. Evander Laurent. The Architect of Laurent Global. The man who orchestrated a corporate coup and treats my brother like the family he lost and loves me with an intensity that should be terrifying but just feels right.
The car pulls away from Westbridge Academy. Heading home. To the penthouse where Liam will arrive covered in ice cream and chocolate. Where Landon will produce yet another elaborate gift because apparently, he has unlimited resources and zero impulse control when it comes to my brother.
Where I'll fall asleep in Evander's arms tonight and wake up tomorrow to do it all again.
Perfect. Insane. Absolutely perfect.
And as Evander's hand slides past denim and cotton, as he makes good on his promise despite my half-hearted protests, as I muffle my moans against his shoulder while Marcus drives with professional obliviousness—
I realize I wouldn't change a single thing.
Not the corporate warfare. Not the psychopath big brothers liam has now. Not the obscene wealth or the complicated family dynamics or any of it.
Because this is home. This chaotic, intense, slightly unhinged found family.
And I'm keeping it.
All of it.
Forever.