"We can take things slow," Darren says, his voice gentle as he tentatively reaches for my hand again. "As slow as you need."
I look down at our joined hands, his large palm engulfing mine. His touch grounds me, cuts through my chaotic thoughts.
I've been hurt before. Four times, to be exact. The idea of opening myself up to that kind of pain again, multiplied by five, is terrifying.
But there's something about these men. Something that makes me want to take the risk.
"Slow," I agree finally, looking up to meet five pairs of hopeful eyes. "We can try it slow."
The relief that washes over their faces is almost comical in its intensity. Aidan actually pumps his fist before catching himself, a blush spreading across his freckled cheeks.
The others look both relieved and excited, even though I can tell they're trying to play it cool. Not to scare me off.
And Darren... Darren looks at me like I've just handed him the world.
"Thank you," Jax says simply, the words carrying all five men's gratitude.
"Don't thank me yet," I warn, though I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "I haven't agreed to anything beyond dinner."
"Dinner is good start," Dmitri says with a decisive nod. "Food builds bridges."
"Speaking of food," Aidan interjects, clearly eager to move past the awkwardness, "everything's getting cold. And I spent like six hours on that risotto."
"How is that even possible?" Darren quips. "Did you milk the cow yourself?"
Aidan's face goes blank. "What the hell do you think risotto is?”
The mood shifts, lightening as plates are passed and wine is poured. The conversation turns to safer topics. M business, their upcoming games, Aidan's apparent stress-baking habit that has filled their freezer with enough muffins to feed a small army, and Darren's lighthearted threats of an intervention.
Gradually, I find myself relaxing. These men are not what I expected. Jax, despite his intimidating presence and clear authority as pack alpha, has a dry wit that emerges when he's comfortable. Dmitri, for all his stoic exterior, listens with an intensity that makes you feel truly heard. Aidan's enthusiasm is infectious, his genuine interest in everything from my design process to my favorite movies drawing me out of my shell.
Zayn surprises me most of all. Beneath the sharp edges and caustic remarks is a keen intelligence and unexpected depth. He asks insightful questions about my business model, offering suggestions that actually make sense.
“Maybe limited edition collaborations,” he says as we move from dinner to dessert, an impressive array of Aidan's baking efforts. “Creates artificial scarcity. Drives up demand and justifies higher price points.”
"That's not a bad idea," I admit, surprised. "I hadn't thought of that."
He shrugs, a hint of smugness in his smile. "I minored in business before hockey took over my life. Some of it stuck."
Through it all, Darren remains a steady presence beside me, his hand occasionally finding mine under the table, his smile warm whenever our eyes meet. There's a new ease to him here, in his home with his pack, that I haven't seen before. Despite the complications, these men are his family. His foundation.
And they're trying. All of them, in their own ways, are making an effort to make me feel welcome. To show me who they really are, beyond our previous encounters. Or lack thereof.
It's nice. Nicer than I expected. Nice enough that when Aidan suggests moving to the living room for coffee and more dessert, I find myself agreeing without hesitation.
The living room is as comfortable as it first appeared, with plush leather couches arranged around a large coffee table. I settle onto one end of a sofa, expecting Darren to join me.Instead, Aidan plops down beside me, eagerly offering a plate of what he calls "experimental brownies."
"Uh, how experimental are we talking?" I ask warily. "There's an unusual spice, or I'm going to be dancing on the table by midnight?"
"Wouldn't complain about that," Zayn says, flashing a wolfish grin that immediately makes me blush.
"They just have chili powder," Aidan explains, watching anxiously as I take a bite. "Just a hint. For complexity."
The brownie is rich and fudgy, with a subtle warmth that blooms at the back of my throat. "These are amazing," I tell him honestly, and his face lights up with joy.
"Really? I wasn't sure about the balance. I tried three different versions before settling on this one."
"The rookie's been baking since dawn," Zayn comments, confirming what Darren told me in the car as he settles into an armchair across from us. "If you don't like something, please lie. For all our sakes."
