MasukTiffany's POV Scars's eyes moved over my face, then dropped to the wet hem of the dress peeking out from under Lucas’s oversized black shirt. I was shivering now, the cold water finally settling into my skin as the ocean breeze cut through me. My teeth knocked together faintly before I could stop it. Dominic didn’t hesitate. He dropped his tough tone and stepped forward toward Scars like nothing had happened. “It’s nothing, man,” Dominic said, waving a hand loosely toward Lucas. “Just a bit of fun at the pool. Her brother here completely overreacted. The guy needs to learn how to take a joke.” [That was a lucky hit. I didn’t expect the dress to go transparent like that, she looks better soaked anyway, and her brother’s losing it over nothing.] My vision blurred for a second with pure rage. This dumb shit actually thought he was entitled to look at me like that. My hands clenched at my sides, fury pushing me dangerously close to losing my temper, but before I could react, I notic
Tiffany's POV For a second, no one spoke. The room stayed too quiet for a situation that suddenly felt too loud in my head. Lucas was still sitting there like nothing had changed. Mercer’s face was still on the screen. But something in me had already shifted. Because if I was dealing with two guys I couldn’t read, I was screwed. Standing there beside Lucas while Mercer waited for a response, I could feel the guilt creeping up my throat again. Should I just tell them? Just open my mouth and admit I had no access to the one target I was supposed to understand? “Tiffany.” My name snapped through the speakers. I didn’t move. Just stared at the edge of the laptop screen, my brain already running through every way this could fall apart. "Tiffany." I jolted slightly. My focus snapped back to the room. Mercer leaned closer to his webcam with his brow furrowed. Next to me, Lucas had turned his stool entirely. He was staring at the side of my face with a heavy, calculating look. "Y
Tiffany's POV “Don’t say shit like that,” I whispered. “Like what?” His voice was rough. “That,” I swallowed. “Don’t say it like there’s only one ending for you.” A beat. His jaw tightened. “It’s not fantasy, Barbie. It’s reality.” I shook my head slightly. “Yeah, well. I wasn’t a fan of your reality.” That got a faint exhale out of him. Almost a laugh, but not really. “You think I was?” And then he stepped closer until my back hit the balcony railing. I didn’t even notice myself moving. His hand came up beside my shoulder, resting on the rail, caging me in without actually touching me. “Hale…” I warned quietly. “What?” His gaze dropped to my mouth, paused there just long enough to change the air between us, then lifted again, sharper, as if he was annoyed at himself for letting it happen. [Just kiss her.] “You were doing that thing again,” I murmured. “What thing?” “Thinking too loud.” A pause. “So you’re still doing that,” he said instead. “Doing what?” I asked. My
Tiffany's POV For half a second, I genuinely considered telling him. Just blurting it out right here in the middle of the ballroom. 'Hey, funny story. Your terrifying mafia obsession is apparently the only human being on earth whose thoughts I can't hear.' Yeah. That would've gone over great. I let the thought sit there for a second longer than I should’ve, my attention slipping instead to the champagne in my hand. The bubbles rose lazily to the surface, like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. Like I wasn’t standing here with a secret that could ruin everything. I could feel Lucas's eyes on me, waiting for the answer only I was supposed to have. And annoyingly, I realized I was just as curious as he was. Maybe even more. What exactly was Scars thinking? "Barbie?" His voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up. The quiet satisfaction from a second ago was gone. Lucas's brows were drawn together now, his eyes fixed on me like he'd mistaken my silence for something e
Tiffany's POV I opened my mouth, probably to apologize for the third damn time, but before I could get a word out, a familiar irritated voice cut through my head. [I’m trying to track this asshole properly, and Barbie just speeds up the whole process by causing a scene with him.] Somewhere in the ballroom, Lucas was definitely rethinking every decision that led him to partnering with me. Honestly? Fair. Finding Scars this fast was a miracle. Finding him because I crashed into him like an idiot and ruined his suit with champagne was slightly less miraculous. Mercer would be thrilled. “No, seriously, I’m really sorry,” I said, taking a step back. His hand slipped from my elbow as I put a little distance between us. “I wasn't paying attention.” Scars didn’t look annoyed at all. If anything, the smirk deepened slightly. “It’s fine,” he said easily. “It’s just a suit.” I glanced at the stain spreading across the black fabric. "A very expensive suit, I bet. Let me find a waiter to
Tiffany's POV Hours later, I found myself staring at the bag sitting on the bed. The clock on the wall read nine o’clock. We had exactly two hours before the ship sailed, and for the first time, the weight of what we were about to walk into really started settling in my stomach. I slipped into the dress Mercer had sent over. A silk red gown, backless, with a slit cutting high along my left thigh. Sofia Harper definitely did not shop in department stores. The zipper stuck for a second before I finally got it up. I took a breath, smoothed the fabric down, and stepped out into the living room. Lucas was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter. He wore a tailored black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His new blond hair was pushed back, exposing the sharp angles of his face. He looked up the second my bedroom door clicked. His eyes dropped down my dress, lingered on the open slit by my leg, and then snapped back up to my face. [Holy shit.] A small smile







