Date With His Friends
HARDIN'S POV
The scent of bacon drifted through the open-plan kitchen as I walked in, still rubbing the tension from my temples. Ariana's messages still echoed in the back of my mind, but I knew better than to check my phone again at the breakfast table. My mother was a hawk when it came to manners. Especially at the table. Especially with me.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Mom chimed, placing a glass of orange juice in front of my seat. She was already dressed like she had brunch reservations with royalty—pearls, pressed blouse, not a hair out of place.
Dad sat at the head of the table, quietly reading the newspaper like it was 1965. I swear he only kept the paper to prove a point about tradition. Or to hide behind it when Mom got going.
I murmured a greeting and sat down, grabbing a slice of toast.
“I almost forgot to ask,” Mom said with a too-sweet smile. “Did you meet Beatrice?”
The toast froze halfway to my mouth.
I blinked. “Beatrice?”
Her eyes twinkled like she’d just dropped the juiciest gossip. “Beatrice Davis. Lovely girl. She came to see me yesterday. Said she met with you for the Davis-Richards partnership.”
My jaw tensed so hard my teeth might crack. “How the hell do you know Beatrice and I had a meeting?”
“She visited me, dear,” Mom said, sipping her coffee like we weren’t talking about a woman who practically tried to crawl into my lap during a business meeting. “Said she wanted to formally introduce herself to the Richards family. So polite. So graceful. And my goodness, those legs—”
“Mom,” I interrupted, setting the toast down. “Can we not?”
She laughed. “I’m just saying, she’s the kind of woman who knows what she wants. And she wants you, sweetheart.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, if I die tomorrow, remind me to never reincarnate as someone who cares about social climbing and fake smiles.”
Her face fell, the corners of her lips tightening. “Hardin—”
“I have a girlfriend,” I cut in sharply, looking her dead in the eyes. “Ariana. She’s real, grounded, strong. And frankly? She’s better than any of these gold-digging debutantes.”
My mother’s mouth opened, but she didn’t get a word out before my father folded down the newspaper and shot her a look. Just one look. But it was enough to silence the room.
I stood and grabbed my keys from the counter. “I’m not hungry anymore. I’ve got a date—with my friends.”
I bent down, kissed my mother’s cheek with the stiffest affection I could muster, then turned to my dad and held up a fist. He bumped it.
As I walked out, I heard the newspaper crinkle, followed by my father’s voice, calm and deep.
“Look what you’ve caused. You’ve made him angry.”
The door shut behind me before I could hear her response.
****
The drive to Ronny’s place was the first breath of fresh air I’d had all week. His house sat on the edge of the city. The gate opener and I smiled. It was home. It felt like home in all the ways my parents’ mansion never could.
As I pulled into the gravel driveway, the back door swung open, and I heard the laughter before I saw the people.
“Look who finally decided to show up!” Ronny shouted, grinning like an idiot.
The next second, I was swarmed. Vera’s curls hit me in the face as she jumped on my back. Jess wrapped her arms around my middle like a python, and Mark smacked me in the chest hard enough to make me grunt.
“Group hug!” Ronny declared.
“Jesus—get off me!” I groaned, staggering under the weight of four overly affectionate lunatics.
But my heart felt light.
They were my family.
The family I chose.
We’d all met in the same orphanage. Different stories, same pain. But somehow, we’d clung to each other like a raft in a storm and never let go. Even now—years later, scattered across different careers, different cities—Saturdays were sacred.
“Damn, Rich Boy still smells like his father's cologne,” Mark teased, clapping me on the back as we headed toward the backyard.
“Stop calling me that,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
“What?” Jess smirked. “Richards’ golden boy not enjoying his throne?”
I flipped her off. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m just saying—it’s a lot. My parents can be... a pain in the ass.”
Ronny snorted. “You mean your mom’s trying to sell you off like an antique vase to the highest bidder?”
“Exactly,” I said, exhaling sharply. “They’re always pushing someone else in my face. Trying to script my life like I owe them for finding me.”
The others went quiet for a second.
Then Vera said softly, “You don’t owe anyone anything. You earned your place. You always have.”
I looked around at the four of them. These weren’t just friends. They were blood, bound not by DNA but by nights spent on squeaky bunk beds, stolen snacks, and whispered promises that we’d always have each other’s backs.
“Enough sap,” Ronny said, tossing me a beer. “We’ve got burgers to burn.”
***
The afternoon passed in a haze of laughter, smoke, and memories. We grilled, we played stupid backyard games like we were still teenagers, and for a few beautiful hours, I forgot I had a title, a company, or a mother with matchmaking delusions.
At one point, Jess leaned over and raised an eyebrow. “So... how’s your hot CEO girlfriend?”
I couldn’t stop the grin that stretched across my face.
“Oh my God,” Vera laughed. “He is whipped. Look at that smile!”
“Shut up,” I muttered, failing miserably to hide how much Ariana had embedded herself into my bones.
“She’s good for you,” Ronny said quietly. “You’re lighter when you talk about her.”
“I am?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, man. You look like someone who stopped running.”
That one hit deeper than I expected.
Because he was right.
Ariana grounded me in a way no one ever had. She didn’t care about my name. She wanted me. Messy past, broken pieces, all of it. And that kind of love? It rewires a man.
As the sun dipped below the treetops, we all sat around the fire pit like old times. The flames cracked softly, painting our faces in flickering amber.
No one talked for a long time.
It was the kind of silence that only came with true comfort.
Then my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out lazily, expecting a work message.
But when I saw the name on the screen, my blood surged.
Ariana.
The message preview made my heart skip.
“I have a surprise for you. I’m waiting at your penthouse.”
I grinned, tapping the screen open—only for another message to follow instantly.
“I’ve been a bad girl. I need to be punished.”
I bolted upright so fast, I nearly knocked over my beer.
“What?” Jess asked.
I cleared my throat and slipped the phone into my pocket. “Emergency.”
“Let me guess,” Mark said, smirking. “Your girlfriend needs you.”
I didn’t even try to deny it. “Yes. And judging by the text, I really need to be there.”
The group exploded with catcalls.
“Oooooh, Daddy’s got work to do!” Vera teased, wagging her eyebrows.
“Someone’s about to get handcuffed,” Ronny added.
“Shut up,” I muttered, already heading for my car. “Love you losers.”
“Wrap it up next time!” Jess shouted after me.
As I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, my thoughts raced.
Ariana never played games unless she meant them. Whatever this surprise was—it was going to be unforgettable.
The city blurred past me, but my pulse stayed steady. Anticipation, adrenaline, desire—all coursing through me in perfect sync.
I couldn’t wait to see her.
To touch her.
To remind her that no matter what the world threw at us, she was mine.
By the time I reached the penthouse, the sky had darkened to a rich indigo, and the city lights winked like stars below.
I stepped out of the elevator and opened the front door.
The lights inside were dim.
Soft music played from somewhere down the hall.
And a trail of rose petals led toward the bedroom.
My lips curved into a slow, wicked smile.
Ariana was full of surprises.
And I was ready to unwrap this one—inch by delicious inch.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
