Page 63 of Knot Your Business

Rylan shakes his hand while wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side.

I point to Papa. “This is Kurt.” I point to Dad last since Rylan probably recognizes him already. “This is Johnathan.”

Jasper keeps a step behind, his hand on the small of Rylan’s back as I look over at him. Before any of my dads break the silence, Elizabeth calls me over.

“Violet, you too, sweetheart. Let’s get some photos of you both. And then we’ll get some with your dads and your pack.”

I duck out of Rylan’s hold, adjusting my cap and diploma holder. Leaving Jasper alone with my dads so soon after finding solid ground between us isn’t a good idea, but I do my best to stay focused on all the pictures. The guys take it in better stride than I expect, and by the time Elizabeth is ushering my dads into the photo along with Rylan and Jasper, the tension is nearly gone, only a lingering stiffness in Dad’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” I murmur as Faedra convinces her mom to relent and we start heading toward the various parking lots.

“Love you,” my dads say in unison.

Twenty-Nine

RYLAN

“You look fine, Vi.”

Jasper’s low words are barely audible from where I’m perched against the wall beside her cracked open bedroom door. I shove my hands in my pockets and lean my head back, trying to remember how to breathe without my heart getting in the fucking way. I thought I’d gotten past all of this weird reactionary crap when Jasper and I figured out our shit last fall.

Dominic doesn’t look up from his phone as he closes his own door and stalks past me, his steps nearly silent despite the shiny black Hermes shoes he wears.

Fuck. That means this is going to be even worse than Jasper and I figured it would be. Dominic only ever gets this bad when he’s especially angry. Though, in reality, he’s been a festering cesspit of rage since the woman from the Council brought the official packet of paperwork informing us of the match. He’s a fucking keg of gunpowder just waiting for a match to get within ten feet of him.

With any luck, neither of his brothers will manage to be that damn match today.

“Fine? Just fine?” Violet’s not trying to be quiet the way Jasper had been. I can hear the nervous thread of her voice, and I clench my hands to keep from stalking in there. “Jasper, it’s his entire freaking family. I can’t be just fine.”

“Fine means good,” Jasper says, exasperated.

I sigh and knock once on the ajar door before leaning inside the room.

Violet stands in the doorway to her closet, her arms wrapped around her middle. She frowns as she turns away from where Jasper sprawls across the sofa.

“Is this okay?” she asks me.

She turns once to her right and then again to her left.

The dress is a goddamn masterpiece. A soft blue that makes her skin practically glow in a draping fabric that accentuates every single gorgeous curve of hers. It gathers on her left hip, a small smattering of jewels holding the fabric together. Is it a pin of some kind? It looks intentional, so I don’t ask. She’s done her hair similar to the gala, though more pieces frame her face this time. Her makeup is softer, the bold red lipstick traded for something nearly identical to the natural light brown of her lips.

My dick jumps, and I don’t downplay having to adjust myself.

Her gaze drops to the movement before flicking to Jasper and then back to me. The telltale blush of her embarrassment darkens her cheeks, and I smirk. She’s so damn bold in everything she does. But show her just how thoroughly she affects my body? Instantly shy and blushing like a damn maiden. It’s endearing.

“You’re gorgeous, Violet.” My voice is husky, but I don’t do anything to change it. “Honestly a bit overdone for Sunday brunch.”

Not actually true, but I want to see how she responds to my own humor. She pouts her lips, her gaze taking in my attire twice before she rolls her eyes.

“You’re nearly as dressed as the gala. Certainly just as formal as you were yesterday, where it was business casual,” she says, waving her hand toward me. “No way am I overdressed if you’re not.”

“He could just enjoy wearing suits,” Jasper says, sitting up and spreading his arms along the back of the couch. I smirk as his gaze catches mine.

Violet snorts, her nose scrunching.

“Absolutely not. He barely wore a suit to the gala that the Council demands everyone wear black tie for. He’d much rather be in a set of jeans and a hoodie. Though May really isn’t the best time for wearing hoodies. Not in LA, at least.”

An odd sense of pride flashes through me at her noticing my preferences.

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