Unshackled

“Daddy can’t fucking help himself, can he?” He started peppering Ryan’s face with kisses. “He wasn’t born to be censored. No, he wasn’t. Especially not when you wake up screaming when Mommy and Daddy are practicing for a sibling.”

Emilia rolled her eyes and failed to hide her mirth.

Nessa scrunched her nose and swiftly changed the topic, asking if I’d brought the makeup, so I told her it was in the hallway. And I could tell that others had shit to say, but I wasn’t here to chitchat. We could do that anytime.

I nodded at Shan as the chatter picked up. “Our car will be here any minute, sir.”

“Of course.” He set down his wine and rose from his seat. On his way to Emilia, he adjusted his suit jacket, a sight I’d always found hot as fuck. “Thank you for a lovely birthday celebration, sweetheart.” He dipped down and kissed her cheek. “I enjoyed spending the day with you and the kids.”

He’d gotten a bit of sun too. It looked good on him. At the same time, I could tell he was tired. No matter how much he loved being close to family, spending the night here took its toll on him.

“You’re always welcome here, Shan. We love having you.” Emilia smiled up at him. “Oh! Before I forget—I’ll go get your pocket square for you.”

’Cause Daddy was fancy like that.

She sent me a quick grin as she dashed by, and Shannon and I made our way to the front door after receiving a handful of “Have fun tonight!” from the family.

Once we reached the hallway, Shan turned to me with a warm smile. I was still remembering each one, because they didn’t come often enough. “You look very handsome.”

Fuck, that shiver went all the way down to my toes.

“Ditto, sir. Fucking ditto.” I spotted one of his cuff links coming loose, and I reached out on instinct and grabbed his wrist. Then I adjusted the pin on the inside of the cuff and couldn’t help but be impressed by the design. Vintage Cartier. This man knew style and always had. “Family heirloom or ridiculously perfect anniversary gift?”

“Neither,” he murmured. “I had a weekend to kill in Paris maybe fifteen years ago. Grace and Viv were at an interior design show. So I treated myself to a day at an auction house where I found these. I couldn’t resist.”

I quirked a faint grin and peered up at him. “You like the finer things in life too.”

He chuckled softly. “I enjoy collecting pieces of history. If they happen to be a pair of nice cuff links or a…” He lifted his gaze to a spot behind me. “Or a pocket square once owned by Thomas Burberry himself, that’s a bonus.”

Hot fucking damn.

I glanced over my shoulder and took a step back as Emilia brought over the pocket square.

She smiled ruefully. “Washed and ironed—quickly. Maybe you don’t use it to wipe Ryan’s mouth next time.”

“Nonsense. It’s meant to be used.” Shannon twisted the square into an elegant fold with practiced ease, then tucked it into his chest pocket. “There. Good to go. Thank you again for everything today—and yesterday.”

“Anytime. Have a wonderful time tonight, you two.”

If we ever got there.

Perhaps I was a tad impatient.

But once I ushered Shan out into the humid summer night, I felt a burst of freedom and the sense that nothing could stop us now.

“Did you remember to bring the tickets?” he asked.

“Do we really need them?”

“Boy, I swear.”

I let out a laugh and had to resist the urge to link my arm with his. It’d feel so natural, but I was getting way ahead of myself. In a best-case scenario, I made him see me as a lot more than his sons’ friend or bonus kid well into our vacation. Tonight was only the beginning of my mission, and, to be honest, I couldn’t see anything happening until he’d seen me in a Speedo on a beach in Spain.

I was packing four of them, because I had the ass for it.

Speaking of asses…

Other than Shan’s being gorgeous as hell too, it was time he started checking mine out.

“I have to ask for a difficult favor,” I said as we reached the gate.

The limo was already here, and the driver stepped out soon after.

“Anything.” Shan glanced down at me with a serious expression.

I nodded at the driver.

“Mr. Ford?” he asked.

“That’s me,” I replied.

He was quick to get the door for us, and before I got in, I turned around to Shan again.

“I understand this is gonna be rough,” I said soberly, “but you gotta do your best not to check out my ass now.”

Shan blinked, stunned, and I tried not to laugh as I climbed into the limo. I rolled up the divider, ’cause that was important to me, then got comfortable in the middle of the seat that was back-to-back with the front. Shan followed and got seated across from me, and it was impossible not to smirk at him.