The clubhouse smelled faintly of leather and cologne, the kind of mix that clung to men and memories. The guys were gathered in the back room, jackets draped over chairs, ties half-knotted, laughter bouncing off the walls.
Matteo was the loudest, as always, cracking jokes while Salvatore tried to keep him in line. Kat’s brothers had that easy rhythm between them, the kind that came from years of shared battles and blood. Watching them, I felt the weight of what today meant — not just for me, but for all of us.
Hovak leaned against the wall, his grin sharp but softer than usual. He’d been different lately, steadier. Sarah had something to do with that. My VP had finally let someone in, and it showed in the way his eyes lit when her name came up. I caught him adjusting his cufflinks, mutte
