His Trouble Maker

Chapter 39

Chapter 39

JESSICA

The garden is stupidly beautiful.

Fairy lights hang like stars from the trellises, weaving through blooming white roses and night jasmine. The long table sits in the middle of it all, wrapped in soft gold linen, glowing candles flickering down the center. Someone even had the audacity to put real crystal glasses out

I know exactly whose work this is. Grayson’s mother. She’s obsessed with gardens, beauty, appearances. And it’s working–if I didn’t feel like was about to be gutted and served with dessert, I might’ve enjoyed this.

Logan leans in. “This looks like a wedding rehearsal dinner.”

I elbow him. “Shut up.”

He snorts, unbothered, and steals a grape from the tray in front of us.

I smooth down my dress for the third time and instantly regret wearing it. It’s too soft, too clingy. Too pretty. I feel like I’m trying too hard, which is pathetic, because I don’t even know why I’m nervous. It’s just dinner. With my brother. And Grayson. And Logan. And Aria.

Okay. That last one explains it.

Aria looks like a goddamn porcelain dagger. Pale pink silk. Thin straps. Glossy lips. Every move she makes is too graceful, too intentional, like she’s performing for someone.

Grayson hasn’t said a word to me since we sat down. I wonder what’s making my baby sad? I smirk at that thought.

“So,” Aria says, tilting her head at me. What a bitch. “I just really wanted to meet the people Grayson grew up with. Since we’re all going to be family soon.”

I take a long sip of water, just to keep myself from laughing in Aria’s face.

Family. She really said family.

–

Bitch thinks because she wore a pastel dress and memorized/a few facts about Grayson’s mom’s roses, she suddenly gets a seat at the table? more than once. Grayson’s mother probably still waters the hydrangeas Please. I’ve bled on this soil. Fought on it. Gotten fucked on it too beside the training field without knowing her future daughter–in–law had her legs over her son’s shoulders right there last week.

Aria’s still babbling, her hand grazing Grayson’s bicep in that fake–innocent way. He doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t touch her. But he doesn’t stop her either.

I don’t blame him. If he blinked too fast, he might get accused of mistreating her or whatever polished bullshit she’s rehearsed with her father. Aria’s not subtle. She’s a glass doll with a blade behind her back – too pretty, too practiced. She’s here to perform.

I shift in my seat, casual as hell, and stretch my leg under the table until the arch of my foot brushes against the inside of Grayson’s thigh.

Bullseye.

– barely – just enough to make

Got you, baby.

ask sweetly, reaching for my napkin. I press it to my lips like I’m hiding

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Chapter 39

eyes flick to mine.

now. Rougher. That’s the voice ite uses when he’s trying really

smirk off it.

father arranged this,” she’s saying.

doesn’t notice Grayson’s hands curling into fists. “The decor… the

my toes just

love making the

touched your food,” I murmur again, eyes locked on his mouth now,

whiten where he grips his fork. His thigh tenses beneath my foot like

Challenge accepted.

my foot up one

over the thick, hot bulge

He twitches.

a blink. A sharp inhale.

his cock pulses under the

Oh, baby.

and keep my gaze perfectly polite. Logan is still chewing. Pierce is sipping wine like

important to really bond with everyone. I mean, when I’m Luna, it’ll be

Ugh. Shut up, Aria.

exhales, nostrils flaring. He drops his

I press harder.

Aria is still talking.

with,” she says. “But I want to be

On his tongue. On his cock. In his bed, in his office, up against the goddamn war room

sneaks into my room tonight. Climbs through the

right now? He can’t do a damn thing about it. I brush him one more time slow, filthy,

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Chapter 39

wine. “Such a lovely dinner,” I purr. “We should do this more often. His gaze traps to

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