Page 178 of Ruthless God

Laughter echoes across the beach, mixing with the crash of waves and the playful shrieks of children. The sun is warm, the breeze carrying the scent of salt and grilled food from the massive outdoor kitchen Claudius built just for moments like this.

Moments we never thought we’d have.

Moments we fought like hell to deserve.

Harvey is chasing Raquel, who giggles wildly as she kicks up sand in her tiny footsteps.

“You better run, little monster!” he teases, arms outstretched, pretending to trip over himself. “Me and Uncle Tad are going to get you.”

Lili, watching from her seat under the shade, laughs as she cradles her newborn against her chest.

“You’re never going to catch her, Harvey. She’s got my speed.”

Dimitri sits beside her, laughing as their other children, Diego, Clara, Isadora, and Javi, run up, squirting Harvey with a water gun.

Alessandro and Isabetta are deep in conversation, watching their son, Luca, run around the bonfire pit.

Greer, Grant’s wife, is reading a book, somehow ignoring the chaos while Grant, still wearing his damn suit jacket on a beach, attempts to build a sandcastle with their daughter, Gracie.

Gracie cries when the sandcastle topples over and says, “Daddy, you’re doing it wrong!”

Grant sighs, shooting a look at Greer. “A little help here?”

She flips a page. “I believe in you.”

Brooks is sprawled in a chair, sunglasses perched on his nose, while his wife, Hannah, walks along the shoreline with their twins, Katie and Samantha.

And then there’s us.

Claudius stands next to the grill, flipping steaks, one arm wrapped possessively around my waist.

Callie is settled on his hip, her curls bouncing as she watches him with rapt fascination. I keep teasing him about holding her even though she just turned four, but I do the same with Cora.

“Daddy, I want a turn!” she demands, reaching for the spatula.

Claudius smirks, handing it over. “Alright, chef. But don’t burn my steaks.”

She giggles, clutching the spatula like it’s her greatest treasure. Cora comes up, pouting. And what does my husband do? He produces another spatula for her.

I lean into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You’re soft.”

His brow raises. “I let my daughters help me cook, and that makes me soft?”

I grin. “Admit it. You’re wrapped around their tiny little fingers.”

He lets out a mock sigh, pressing a kiss to the top of Callie’s head.

“Fine. But only Callie and Cora. And you. That’s it.”

Callie immediately turns in his arms and shouts— “Daddy says he only likes me, sissy, and Mommy!”

Harvey snorts. “Sounds about right.”

Dimitri shakes his head. “Such a liar, Irons. We all know you secretly love us.”

“Keep dreaming, Santos.”

More laughter. More teasing.

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