Ares
My palms are sweating. Actually sweating. Christ, when was the last time I felt this nervous? Even breaking off my engagement in front of Los Angeles' elite didn't make my heart hammer quite like this.
"Breathe, man." Ethan's voice carries that infuriating note of amusement as we approach Six-Pack's entrance. "They're not going to eat you alive. Well, maybe Alisha might try, but—"
"Not helping." I adjust my cuffs, a habit I can't seem to break when anxiety creeps in. The club's neon sign casts blue shadows across the sidewalk, and my stomach does another uncomfortable flip.
Isabella's fingers find mine, squeezing gently. When I look down, her green eyes hold understanding and something softer. Of course she knows what's going through my head. She always could read me better than anyone.
"They're going to love you," she whispers, rising on her toes to press a kiss to my jaw. "Just be yourself."
"That's what I'm afraid of." The words slip out before I can catch them.
Ethan barks out a laugh. "The great Ares Saint, terrified of meeting the in-laws?"
"They're not—" I start to protest, but Isabella's thumb brushing across my knuckles stops me. The simple touch sends warmth spreading through my chest, calming some of the chaos churning inside.
"You faced down the entire Los Angeles social scene," she reminds me, her lips curving into that smile that still makes my heart skip. "Pretty sure you can handle my friends."
"Your friends who've been there for you through everything." Through everything my family put you through, I don't add. The weight of that knowledge sits heavy in my gut. "Who've watched you rebuild your life after—"
"After things that weren't your fault." Her voice carries steel now. "They know that, Ares. Trust me."
Before I can respond, the club's door swings open. A man steps out—tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of presence that commands attention without trying. His eyes sweep over our group, sharp and assessing, before landing on Isabella with obvious warmth.
"There's my favorite artist!" His smile transforms his whole face. "Welcome to the celebration, Bells."
"Brian." Isabella releases my hand to accept his hug, and I find myself studying their interaction. The easy familiarity between them speaks of years of friendship, of shared history I wasn't part of. "Thank you for doing this."
"Are you kidding? This is the least we can do." Brian's gaze shifts to me, and I straighten unconsciously under his scrutiny. "And you’re the famous Ares Saint."
He extends his hand, and I take it, noting the firm grip and direct eye contact. "Brian Fox. Welcome to Six-Pack."
Something in his manner—professional but genuinely welcoming—helps ease the tension in my shoulders. "Thank you for having us."
"Ethan Hawk." My best friend steps forward with his usual easy charm. "Have to say, your marketing strategy for this place is brilliant. The way you've positioned Six-Pack as both exclusive and approachable? That's not easy to pull off."
Brian's eyes light up with pride. "You know about marketing?"
"Know about it?" I can't help but smirk. "He was head of marketing at Saint Industries. Best in the business."
"Was being the operative word." Ethan grins, loosening his tie. "Now I'm just a jobless man following this one into unemployment. And with him not being single anymore, I've got nothing left to market."
Brian laughs, gesturing us toward the bar. "Could use some professional insight, if you're offering. Been thinking about expanding our social media presence, maybe targeting a broader demographic."
"Now you've done it," I mutter, but I'm smiling. "He'll talk your ear off about engagement metrics and brand positioning."
"Hey, marketing is an art form," Ethan protests, already pulling out his phone. "Look at your Instagram layout. Good, but with a few tweaks..." He swipes through some examples. "You could really amplify your reach."
They fall into an animated discussion about target audiences and social media strategies as we make our way inside, and I can't help but admire Ethan's ability to connect so effortlessly with people. Even now, unemployed and uncertain, he's still the same charismatic force he's always been.
"What about influencer partnerships?" Brian asks, and Ethan's eyes light up with that familiar spark of creative energy.
"Oh, I've got some ideas about that..."
"Some things never change," I mutter. "Ethan could charm the scales off a snake. While I..." The words stick in my throat.
Her hand finds mine again. "While you observe, analyze, and care more deeply than anyone realizes." She tugs me to a stop, forcing me to meet her gaze. "That's not a weakness, Ares. It's one of the things I've always loved about you."
