Safe With You

After The Lights Fade

~ Alyssa ~

The after-party feels like stepping into a dream stitched in gold.

Fairy lights twinkle across the rooftop terrace of the venue, soft jazz hums through the speakers, and champagne glasses clink against the backdrop of a London skyline washed in moonlight.

Everywhere I look, there’s laughter — people letting go after weeks of chaos and creation.

It’s strange, in the best way, to stand here knowing that it’s done.

The show. The reveal. The secret collaboration with Dior that nearly killed me.

And the biggest secret of all, still hidden beneath layers of couture and composure.

Greyson’s hand slides against the small of my back as he appears beside me, voice low and soft.

“You pulled it off, sweetheart.”

“Barely,” I murmur, smiling up at him. “My feet hate me.”

He chuckles, leaning close enough for his breath to tickle my ear. “Your feet deserve a medal.”

“Your flattery’s getting sloppy.”

“Maybe. But I mean it.” He presses a kiss to my temple, and suddenly the exhaustion of the night turns into something softer, easier to carry.

Across the terrace, the rest of our makeshift family is already in full celebration mode.

~ Winston ~

I spot her before she spots me.

Elle.

She steps into the glow of the fairy lights, and for the first time all evening, my brain short-circuits.

Her dress — one Alyssa made just for her — is a deep forest green silk that hugs every curve like it was sewn from moonlight and secrets. It’s off-shoulder, the neckline soft, elegant, the hem grazing her calves.

Her chocolate-brown hair falls loose in soft waves past her shoulders, framing her tanned skin and those ridiculous green eyes that seem to catch the light and laugh at it.

She’s wearing barely any makeup, just a soft shimmer and her naturally red lips — and somehow, it’s perfect.

“Holy hell,” I mutter before I can stop myself.

She glances up. Our eyes meet. She smiles — slow, knowing, lethal.

“Winston Riley,” she says, walking toward me with a confidence that makes my throat dry. “You look like someone just hit you with a bus full of emotions.”

“Something like that,” I manage, forcing a grin. “That dress… it’s, uh…”

She raises an eyebrow. “Words, Winston. Try using them.”

I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s incredible. You look… incredible.”

“Smooth,” she teases, but there’s colour rising in her cheeks.

I tilt my head. “Was that a compliment or an accusation?”

“Both.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Remind me to thank Alyssa for single-handedly ruining my concentration tonight.”

Elle smirks. “You’re assuming she made this for your benefit.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware she didn’t. Still — devastating outcome for me.”

Her laughter is soft, genuine — the kind that makes my chest ache a little. “You really are something, Riley.”

“I’ll take that,” I say, raising my glass.

She clinks hers against mine, eyes gleaming. “You should.”

And just like that, the noise of the party fades around us. For once, I’m not thinking about contracts, deadlines, or my infuriating siblings.

Just her — the spark in her eyes, the way she smells faintly of vanilla and chaos.

God help me, I’m in trouble.

~ Tray ~

“Right,” I declare, rolling up my sleeves, “no one told me this after-party was fancy.”

Kelsi laughs beside me, her arm hooked through mine. “You own two suits, love. You’ll survive.”

“I feel like I’m suffocating,” Bailey groans, having successfully ditched his jacket and tie. His shirt’s untucked, his hair’s a mess, and he looks way too pleased about it. “Aunt Lyssa, next time you dress me like this, I’m bringing my own clothes.”

From across the terrace, Alyssa laughs, shaking her head. “You’ll thank me one day when you’re old enough to realise girls love a man in a suit.”

He frowns. “Do they?”

Quinn pipes up, full of seven-year-old certainty. “Only if it’s clean.”

Poppy nods solemnly. “And if he brushes his hair.”

Bailey scowls. “You two are mean.”

Tray’s dad, Charlie, is already doubled over laughing. “Son, you’re getting roasted by toddlers. It’s a rite of passage.”

“Not helping, Granddad!” Bailey yells back, but his grin gives him away.

Charlie winks at me, still chuckling. “You see this? This is why family gatherings are the best entertainment in the world.”

“Chaos, you mean.”

“Same thing, son. Same thing.”

Kelsi smiles, watching the kids run off toward the dessert table. “They’ve stolen half the cupcakes.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s Alyssa’s fault,” I say. “She told them they could have whatever they wanted.”

Charlie hums approvingly. “That woman’s got the right idea.”

~ Savannah ~

I can’t stop smiling.

Lillian’s sitting on a sofa surrounded by half the design team, champagne glass in hand, cheeks pink from compliments.

“Oh my goodness, sweetheart,” I gush for the tenth time, “you were stunning tonight. That walk! That confidence!”

“Mum,” she says, laughing, “you’re embarrassing me.”

“That’s my job.” I smooth a curl behind her ear, unable to hide the pride bursting in my chest. “You looked like you belonged up there.”

“She did belong up there,” Alyssa says as she approaches, her tone soft and warm. “She earned every second of that runway.”

Lillian blushes again. “You’re just being nice.”

“Darling, I don’t do ‘nice,’” Alyssa says with a grin. “I do ‘honest.’ And honestly? You were extraordinary.”

I sip my champagne, watching the two of them — mentor and protégé, both glowing. “You’ve changed her life, Alyssa.”

Alyssa smiles faintly. “She’s changed mine too.”

~ Greyson ~

She’s glowing — like gold under moonlight.

The city lights shimmer behind her, the champagne catching reflections in her eyes.

Everyone else is talking, laughing, celebrating, but for me, it’s just her.

I reach for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. “You’re stealing the show again.”

She smiles up at me. “Occupational hazard.”

“Maybe,” I murmur, tracing a thumb over her skin. “But I’ve got to say, it’s my favourite view.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And yet, you love me for it.”

Her laughter is soft, the kind that curls around my chest and stays there.

For a while, we don’t speak. We just… exist — hand in hand, surrounded by everyone we care about.

Then I turn her gently toward me, cupping her face. “You did it, Alyssa. You built something extraordinary.”

Her eyes glisten. “We did.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Downplay it. You’re the reason we’re all standing here. The reason my sister believes she can design. The reason my family’s smiling again.”

She swallows hard, her lips parting — but before she can answer, I kiss her.

It’s soft at first, then deeper — the kind of kiss that forgets where it is, that tastes like champagne and relief and everything we’ve fought for.

When we break apart, she’s breathless, smiling. “You’re going to start rumours.”

I grin. “Pretty sure we ran out of secrets a long time ago.”

~ Elle ~

It’s ridiculous, really.

I’ve worked for Alyssa for years — seen her at her best, her worst, her most dramatic. I’ve seen Winston dozens of times in meetings, in chaos, in every possible context.

And yet, somehow, seeing him tonight — all sharp jawline, undone tie, and that stupidly disarming grin — hits different.

He’s funny. Infuriating. A little bit charming.

And when he catches me watching him, he smirks like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

I’ve got enough on my plate — a boss who never sleeps, a launch to manage, and now this? Crushes are inconvenient.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Winston asks, sliding up beside me with two glasses of champagne.

“I was thinking about invoices,” I lie.

He grins. “Terrible lie. Try again.”

“Fine. I was thinking about how insufferable you are.”

“Better.” He hands me a glass. “Drink. I’m told it helps.”

I take it, laughing despite myself. “You’re trouble.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

We clink glasses again, and the world shrinks to the sound of laughter, music, and our voices.

~ Tray ~

Across the room, chaos reigns again — courtesy of the small ones.

Bailey’s now teaching Quinn and Poppy how to play “cupcake stacking.” It’s exactly as stupid as it sounds: they’re seeing how many mini cupcakes they can balance before gravity gets bored.

“Ten!” Quinn squeals.

“Eleven!” Bailey yells — right before the entire tower collapses in a sugary explosion.

Charlie’s laughing so hard he’s nearly crying. “Well done, architects in training! Structural integrity clearly runs in the family!”

Tray facepalms. “Dad, you’re not helping.”

Kelsi hands the kids napkins, shaking her head affectionately. “They’re sticky, but happy. That’s what matters.”

Across the room, Greyson and Alyssa are slow dancing to the soft music, completely lost in each other.

Charlie nudges me. “You think he’s going to propose soon?”

I grin. “If he doesn’t, Mum will.”

~ Alyssa ~

The night winds down slowly — laughter softening into conversation, champagne glasses emptying, the cool night air wrapping around us like silk.

Winston and Elle are still deep in some ridiculous debate about coffee preferences. Savannah’s fussing over Lillian’s curls. Tray and Charlie are trying (and failing) to convince the kids not to pocket cupcakes for later.

And Greyson… he’s holding me like I might vanish.

I rest my head against his shoulder, his warmth grounding me. “It feels different tonight,” I murmur.

He hums. “Because it is. It’s peace.”

“Is that what this is?”

He nods. “You built your empire, Alyssa. And you brought us all with you.”

I close my eyes, smiling softly. “You sound proud.”

“I am.” He kisses the top of my head. “More than you’ll ever know.”

For a moment, I forget the cameras, the gossip, the noise. There’s just this — the people who became family, the love that found me when I wasn’t looking, the little life fluttering quietly beneath my ribs.

When the music fades and the city lights blink in the distance, I take one last look around — at Winston and Elle laughing, at Lillian glowing, at Tray and his family tangled in joy.

And I think, for the first time in a very long time —

This is what home feels like.