CHAPTER 107: THE DRESS CODE: CHAOS AND CONTROL

–Damien–

Las Vegas. Fun? Probably. It’s the city of sins, after all. We could totally elope here. But honestly? The idea made me anxious the entire flight. Damn this woman. She’s both my peace and my panic attack wrapped into one stunning package.

I glanced over at Livana, curled up on the sofa with her dog like a content little burrito. Grandpa Reagan, meanwhile, was busy waving a tiny airplane plushie in Choco’s face. The dog wagged his tail and approached, sniffing him like he was auditioning for a role in a doggy perfume commercial.

"Babe~" Laura tugged on my arm. I followed her into our penthouse suite. It was huge. Like, ’could host a mafia meeting’ huge. I helped her unpack, and she held up a dress like she just discovered treasure.

"How about this one?" she asked sweetly.

"Too short," I said immediately, making a dramatic X in the air like a judge on a talent show.

"But~~" she whined, pouting those pretty lips at me.

I shook my head like I was fending off evil. No way in hell I’d let my pregnant fiancée strut around in that when I wasn’t glued to her side.

"Fine," she sighed, defeated.

"We’ll go shopping later. For now, you rest. I’m taking over your wardrobe curation."

I gently pulled her over to the sofa, adjusted the seat until the footrest popped out and the back reclined, then made sure she was comfy like a queen. I headed to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water and a pudding cup, checked the expiration date—because I’m a responsible man now—and popped it open. I took a tiny scoop, tested it (not poisoned), and handed her both the pudding and the water like some domestic god.

"I called Sophia," she said while scooping into the pudding like she hadn’t just eaten.

"What about Sophia?" I asked, glancing over as I brought my luggage next to her.

"She’s apparently monitoring Tyrona. That girl’s literally living her best life by stalking someone."

"That sounds more like a job for Damon," I joked, grinning. She laughed, and damn, I lived for that sound.

"I agree."

I finished arranging my clothes by color—don’t judge me, it’s satisfying—then slid my suitcase under the wardrobe compartment with a proud nod.

"Now," I said, plopping down beside her. I lowered my head and placed it on her belly, trying to hear our baby’s heartbeat. Romantic, right?

Except... instead of a heartbeat, I got a full-on stomach growl.

"Whoa. Are you hungry again?" I asked.

"Yup," she said without shame.

I sighed, but in that sweet, resigned way. Of course she was hungry again.

We made our way to the kitchen. Deanne was already there, rocking an apron, cooking with Chef Wally. And Caine? That man was being hella clingy—hovering around Deanne like a lovesick puppy.

"They’re totally screwing, right?" I whispered into Laura’s ear.

She giggled.

"No, they’re not screwing," Deanne cut in, without even looking at us. "They’re just sharing a room."

Wally gave the most suspiciously innocent grin I’ve ever seen.

Sure, Caine was supposed to sleep in Deanne’s room, but she had him moved next to Wally’s. Suspicious behavior, honestly.

"We don’t really know," Wally teased, laughing.

Laura laughed so hard she smacked the kitchen counter.

"I meant you and Caine," I said with a devilish grin aimed at Deanne.

She shot me her signature icy glare while Caine smirked like he’d just won a bet.

"No," Caine said, grinning like an idiot. "We haven’t made love yet."

Deanne turned to him, eyes sharp enough to cut steel.

Poor guy. May he rest in pieces.

–Livana–

I deliberately chose a mini dress—organza, with a delicate crisscross string back. The ombré shade faded from white at the top to deep wine red at the hem. I let my fingers trace the fabric carefully, lingering on its texture. Damien was busy on the phone, and since I was still pretending to be blind, every movement had to be slow and deliberate. I couldn’t afford a single misstep that would make him suspect I had regained my sight.

"Babe," he called out. "What are you doing?"

"Just checking for a dress."

"I can choose for you," he offered, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"No, I’m good. I don’t want to look like a nun at our party."

"Oh, screw it." He hugged me from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. "Can we just skip the bachelorette party?"

"Damien is having a bachelor party," I reminded him with a gentle nudge.

"No, you’re not wearing that," he said, immediately reaching for the dress. I felt his movement from behind, the air shifting as his arm extended. Instinctively, I clutched the dress tighter to my chest.

"Don’t you dare," I warned, my voice dropping low enough to halt him in place.

"Fine," he sighed in surrender, though his tone was anything but defeated. "But I’m making love to you in that dress."

"After the party," I replied firmly. It sounded more like a contract negotiation than a marital exchange. I didn’t mind how possessive and protective he was—it was endearing in small doses. But I wouldn’t be controlled.

I felt the way his body responded, hard against my back, and he groaned under his breath.

"Shit," he muttered. "This can’t wait."

I laughed softly. "No, Damon. We can’t make love. I need to get ready."

Two hours later.

Laura looked stunning in her white mini dress—the skirt shaped like big soft rose petals—and a tiny veil fastened by a delicate headband. I slipped some cash into my pocket. Always be prepared.

"Sophia!" Laura squealed as I kept my head poised and my gaze steady, feigning blindness. I saw Sophia, Kai, and Logan stride into the penthouse like they owned the place.

"Dress up, now!" Laura called.

"You all go ahead," Sophia said with a smile. "I’ll catch up and make sure I’m pretty enough." She kissed Laura’s cheek. Kai and Logan offered brief but warm greetings.

I could tell Logan wasn’t thrilled about the setup, but it didn’t matter. Laura was glowing with happiness, and that was enough to shut down any protest.

"Boys, get ready for our bachelor’s party," Damien called out cheerfully.

"Tsk. I’m not into this," Damon muttered.

"Love, the men’s and women’s stripper clubs are literally neighbors," I said pointedly.

"Fine." He leaned in and kissed me with that possessive intensity I was so familiar with.

We piled into a white Hummer limo. Damien, naturally, sat beside me, hand resting across my knees like a quiet claim of ownership. Laura already had a non-alcoholic piña colada in hand, a light coat over her lap—her fiancé had grown increasingly conservative. Meanwhile, mine was all hands and instinct.

"Grandpa, are you really okay with this?" Deanne asked.

"Yeah, yeah. I’ve got my smartwatch monitoring my heart rate," Grandpa replied. "Just don’t tell your grandma about this."

We all laughed.

"I think we should invite Grandma Olivia to a male strip club," I whispered with amusement.

"Fair enough," Damon smirked.

When we reached the club—one side for the women, one for the men—I could sense Grandpa’s surprise. But to everyone’s shock, Grandma Olivia was already there... with my mother-in-law, Amiliee. They waved like they were at a school play, and David was there too. Even though it was night, I kept my sunglasses on. Las Vegas sparkled like daylight anyway.

"Oh, this is far," Grandpa muttered, clearly trying to play it cool. Grandma narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Well, seems like you’re really excited for the show," Grandpa Olivia teased as Grandpa cleared his throat, pretending to be unbothered.

"I hope you enjoy it too," he replied stiffly.

I chuckled as Damon leaned closer and whispered, "There’s some tension there. But I think Grandma came to have fun too."

"They deserve it," I said with a smile, nodding. I greeted them warmly, offering cheek kisses and hugs.

We eventually split up—men on one side, women on the other. Damon already had female bodyguards stationed discreetly. I had my own people watching, of course. We were seated in the VIP section, front row. Grandma Olivia had already ordered drinks, and Amiliee looked ready with a stack of cash.

This felt like a full-blown "Magic Mike" production. There was even a storyline—like a sensual Broadway show. Laura was bubbling with excitement, and Deanne leaned back with a champagne flute in hand.

"Where’s Jane?" I asked Deanne.

"She said she’ll come with Sophia. Francis just arrived and chose to stay at the penthouse with Choco," she replied casually, sipping her drink.

"Laura, sit down!" Grandma Olivia giggled like a teenager as she eased into her seat.

I was excited too—but mostly? I was looking forward to my husband’s reactions. I knew he had someone spying on us. And I had people watching them.

Sure enough, Damien and Damon were already looking uncomfortable, Damien obsessively checking his tablet—probably watching us through security feeds—while the other guys were already a few drinks in.

Ah, the joys of marriage.