CHAPTER 108: IN THE COMPANY OF FIRE

–Livana–

My sister was already screaming at the top of her lungs, waving her money gun like a maniac. She had it locked and loaded, dancing along with the music while the muscular strippers worked the stage in a seamless rhythm of hip-hop—or whatever genre this sensual chaos fell under. They were still fully dressed for now, likely saving the reveal for later.

Next to her, Grandma Olivia was in full swing, raising her margarita mid-cheer. The boys? I assumed they were watching the show, or at least pretending to.

My senses are unusually sharp when it comes to my family’s safety. A subtle shiver crept down my nape—a warning. Someone was watching us, and not for fun. Assassins or enemies, perhaps those still after my sister. I slowly turned my head as more women approached our round booth, squealing and crowding toward the table. The female bodyguards politely but firmly redirected them.

Someone had already complained earlier, but quickly shut up. The screaming persisted. Deanne tapped Laura on the arm, trying to calm her down. She’s still in her first trimester, yet she moves as if nothing could stop her—not even pregnancy.

I tilted my head toward Grandma Olivia, who, unsurprisingly, matched Laura’s energy. Meanwhile, my mother-in-law remained graceful and composed. She clapped along, occasionally shooting bills toward the dancers, but never once left the comfort of the couch.

The music shifted—likely the chorus—prompting the men on stage to peel off their shirts, revealing sculpted chests and perfectly toned bodies. The crowd’s volume tripled. Grandma Olivia raised her money gun again, and a bearded man moved toward her, dropping to his knees and grinding shamelessly as dollar bills rained over him.

I bit my lower lip to stifle a laugh. Let them enjoy it. I was more curious about how the boys were handling the chaos.

Lowering my head toward the tablet, I caught sight of the female dancers approaching Damien’s group. He immediately shook his head. David, ever the playboy, pointed at him and cheered, laughing as Damien tried to shield himself with his forearm.

And there was my husband—calmly sipping a drink, holding a tablet, clearly spying on us.

I removed my sunglasses and faced forward as the male dancers slithered through the female crowd toward Laura and Grandma Olivia. Sophia had just arrived. She leaned in to whisper something to one of the dancers, who nodded and smiled before twirling his way toward her, then to Grandma and Laura.

His eyes met mine—an intentional gaze—but I kept my expression blank. He grinned, moving in my direction. One of the bodyguards subtly gestured to him, and he nodded in understanding. Sophia tucked money into the waistband of his trousers, and Laura, giggling, slipped a bill into his necktie. A tie with no shirt—very classy.

Deanne leaned in to whisper something to Laura, then gave the dancer a small wave before sitting beside me.

"How are the boys doing?" my mother-in-law asked.

Without turning, I passed her the tablet. "See for yourself."

"Ohhh," Ameliee giggled. "Why is Damien running away?"

"Is he?" I asked, my tone calm and unbothered.

She paused, then winced. "Sorry—I forgot you still can’t see."

I gave a faint smile, keeping up the act.

Mom, seated to my right, narrated the unfolding chaos, while my husband remained fixated on the screen. Damon casually handed cash to Wally and Caine, gesturing for them to join the fun, before rising to follow Damien.

"Where are they going?" Mom murmured, almost to herself.

"Bathroom, maybe," I answered lightly.

Moments later, I felt him—his presence always unmistakable. His scent reached me first, warm and familiar, before the couch dipped beside me.

"Wow," he whispered, surprised. "Your grandma’s really going all out."

"Is Grandpa having fun too?" I asked.

I turned slightly toward the tablet. Grandpa was dancing with one of the strippers, holding her hand and spinning her like it was a formal ball. He handed her a bill respectfully—not once did he slip it anywhere inappropriate. A gentleman, as always.

"It’s really loud here," Damon murmured into my ear, his breath brushing against my skin. His hand settled on my exposed knee.

"Mom, why aren’t you enjoying yourself?" he called.

"I am enjoying it," she replied, laughing gently.

"Then go join the fun. Dance with the hunks. I’m sure Dad’s been in places like this before. Might as well enjoy it."

She chuckled. "Watching is enough for me."

Damien returned, a bottle of water in hand. He sat down quietly. Laura didn’t even notice. She was too busy shrieking beside Grandma and Sophia.

"Oh my god," I said, trying to sound shocked. "Is that Laura? And Grandma’s squealing like a teenager?"

I already knew it was them. But pretending to be blind meant asking obvious questions.

Damon laughed. "Yeah. It’s fun watching them go wild."

I felt his fingers tangle into my hair, gently twirling a lock. "Hi, Jane!" he called out. "Go throw some money too." I caught in my peripheral that he handed her an envelope as she sat down.

"Where’s Damien?" I asked.

Damon reached for my chin and turned my face toward where Damien was seated.

"There. Watching his fiancée get her fill of the show."

"Is he mad?"

"He’s worried," Damon chuckled. "Good thing we skipped the whole bachelor and bachelorette party mess. I wouldn’t want you squealing over naked men."

"Do they have better physiques than you?" I teased, smirking.

He laughed. "Want me to dance for you? Strip and everything? Just feel since you won’t be able to see it yet."

"Oh please," Mom groaned. "Keep it in the bedroom."

I giggled as Damon turned my chin and kissed me lightly.

I gently pushed him back. "Sunglasses, please."

"Hmm." He slid them onto my face with care.

Through the dark lenses, I watched Damien gently pull Laura aside, murmuring something. He handed her the water bottle, and she drank before clapping along with the others again.

"Can we go now?" Damien asked.

"No," I replied softly. "Let them enjoy it."

Facing forward, I observed as Deanne sipped her margarita while Grandma finally sat down with her juice. I leaned closer to Damon.

"The bodyguards?" I asked under my breath.

He shifted beside me. I saw Sophia dancing wildly with one of the strippers. If Kai saw this... well, they weren’t dating. So technically, it wasn’t cheating. Still, I kept my gaze neutral, my expression blind.

And I played my role perfectly—unseeing, but never unaware.

–Damon–

The show was... entertaining, at best. Money flew like confetti—raining down from hands that never worked a day in their lives. The dancers flirted shamelessly, targeting wealthy old women and spoiled daughters of oil tycoons and syndicate heirs. Typical.

I kept my eyes on Laura—not because I distrusted her, but because she belonged to Damien. And Damien was family. She behaved after, thankfully. No wild antics. Just curled up next to him while he rubbed her side protectively. That’s good. That’s exactly how I wanted her—close and controlled.

Still, I kept my senses razor-sharp.

The room was crowded—too crowded for my liking. Even with enough hired protection to secure a small embassy, I didn’t feel comfortable. People like us always have enemies. And people who want Livana dead? They know better than to go after her directly. They’ll go for her heart first—her family.

Tyrona. I don’t know the full extent of her capabilities, but I know her type. Ruthless, vengeful, manipulative. She lost Madrigal—one of her most powerful backers. That alone would be enough to push her off the edge. And that’s exactly where I want her.

I hope she’s hurting.

But she won’t hit Livana straight on. No, women like her aim for the soul. I won’t let her touch it.

I kissed Livana’s temple. Her skin smelled like warm vanilla and threat. God, I want her.

"I can’t wait to make love to you in that dress," I murmured, voice low against her ear.

Her lips twitched. "Do you want me to dance in this dress?"

"Yes," I answered too quickly.

She stood—tempting, reckless, playful—but I immediately pulled her back down.

"What the hell—of course not here." My grip on her waist tightened. "You’re not dancing in front of them."

She might be pretending not to care, but I see everything. I see the way men look at her. Even the professionals. Especially the professionals. I don’t care if they’re strippers—Livana doesn’t need to be the fantasy in anyone else’s mind. Not when she’s mine.

"Ameliee, let’s dance!" Grandma Olivia called out. Mom rose and helped her—still light on her feet despite the heels and her years.

I sighed and leaned in toward Livana again, grounding myself. She slid her slender fingers along my cheek, then to the back of my head, holding me steady. I nuzzled into her shoulder, eyes briefly closing to absorb the scent of her—rose, skin, and a little danger.

Then I heard the scream.

Sophia.

It wasn’t a scream of joy. It was sharp. Abrupt. Too loud to ignore.

My eyes snapped open.

I stared—and blinked.

There was Grandma Olivia.

On stage.

Surrounded by shirtless, gyrating men.

One of them had her by the waist—his grip shameless, like he’d done it a hundred times before. The others circled her like wolves in heat, bodies moving in sync, practically devouring her with their eyes. And Grandma Olivia? She laughed—full-throated, wild—and winked at every single one of them, brandishing her money gun like a war queen commanding her troops.

"Oh, damn," I muttered under my breath.

Sophia’s scream pierced the air behind me—sharp, shrill, and for a second, it sounded like horror.

But no. She was just screaming in excitement.

Which, somehow, made it worse.

"What?" Livana asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Your grandma’s on stage. Surrounded by—hunks."

"Are they hot?"

"Yeah," I muttered, taking her hand and pressing it against my abs. "But not as pretty as mine."

She giggled and nudged me.

"How about Grandpa?"

I looked at the tablet again. Grandpa was having the time of his life. Two dancers were guiding his hands like he was some kind of ballroom king. Caine was throwing money like it was Monopoly. Wally looked like he was in heaven under a lap dance. Even Kai was getting dragged into it.

"He’s... doing perfectly fine," I muttered.

Livana giggled again. "Guess he’s in the same situation."

Just as I started to relax, Jane’s voice cut through my thoughts like a blade.

"Boss."

I straightened immediately, lowering my head slightly to hear her better.

"Tyrona’s here. Nine o’clock."

I turned left.

There she was.

Sitting like she owned the place. Wine glass in hand. Two bodyguards flanking her. Her legs crossed, her smile smug—aimed directly at us.

Our table. Our family.

Her presence wasn’t a coincidence.

It was a war.

And she made the first move.