The Wilsons' garden was enormous, full of flowers, warm lights, and a massive fountain. Isaac stood beside it, smoking in silence, watching the shimmering surface without really thinking about anything. He'd shown up just as Claire asked: elegant, immaculate, dressed in his best formal suit… though he wasn't convinced he fit among so many celebrities and wealthy guests.
The Wilsons were important in Westwood. Very important.
"Thought Keegan would come with you," Claire said as she approached, smiling. "Are you enjoying the place?"
Isaac exhaled a slow stream of smoke and looked at her from the corner of his eye, a faint smile tugging at his expression.
"He couldn't make it. Dante came with me instead."
He said it casually, but Claire's eyes went wide with disbelief.
"Dante?" she repeated. "Dante? My Dante Black?"
Isaac couldn't help a soft laugh. Then he nodded and took another drag from his cigarette.
"That son of a—" Claire muttered, and Isaac turned to her, curious. "He rejected my invitation. Said he was busy. And now he shows up with you? Where is that redheaded menace? I'm going to kill him!"
She scanned the garden, ready to hunt him down.
"I left him in the kitchen," Isaac said calmly. "It's like walking around with a president, everyone knows him and wants to talk to him."
Something in the way he said it made it unintentionally funny.
"Oh, yes… that always happens when I bring him to events like this," Claire sighed. "People assume that because he's young he's naive or stupid, and they try to negotiate with him. Most of the time they walk away embarrassed. Dante has a business mind like no one else… and absolutely no mercy."
Isaac narrowed his eyes slightly. Claire knew a lot about Dante.More than he expected.
Did she know about his anxiety attacks?
"And why are they all so interested in him?" Isaac asked, flicking ash away.
Claire gave him a look that said Are you serious?
"Who wouldn't want to do business with the Blacks? They practically own everything here. It's almost a monopoly."
Isaac nodded. It was almost funny, really, how that chaotic, impulsive, childish redhead was heir to such a huge empire. And somehow, surprisingly, fully capable of running it.
A smile slipped out of him before he could stop it.
Claire caught it immediately.
"Well, someone's in a good mood. I'm heading to the kitchen to find that stupid redhead. I'm not forgiving him for rejecting me."
She walked off, and Isaac stayed by the fountain. The ceremony hadn't started yet; only a handful of early guests had arrived, close family, people who'd traveled from out of the country.
Then a man approached him: tall, dressed entirely in white, with a dangerously beautiful face. Light blond hair, dark green eyes, a presence that radiated luxury and arrogance. He looked like an evil prince straight out of a novel.
He raised his wine glass toward Isaac.
"I swear you've smoked at least four since you got here," he said with a teasing tone.
Isaac turned toward him. The man had to be in his late thirties, but he looked very good. Too good, Isaac thought.
"It's a habit I can't break," Isaac answered, voice dry but not impolite.
"Nathanael," the man introduced, offering his hand.
"Isaac."
The reply was even drier. It was just how he was.
Nathanael smiled, letting his gaze sweep over Isaac from head to toe.
"Collins. Isaac Collins. You're even more handsome in person."
Isaac frowned slightly, confused.
"You know me?"
"Hard not to," Nathanael said with a shrug. "You're on every fashion-related cover."
His smile was charming, almost dangerous and yes, he was absolutely flirting.
"Ah… that," Isaac muttered, taking another slow drag of his cigarette.
"You're interesting, Isaac. I'd like to get to know you better. What brings you to this wedding?"
"Invited by a relative," Isaac replied simply, deliberately ignoring the flirtation. He wasn't sure why he did… though deep down, he had an idea.
Nathanael just smiled wider.
"Here." He handed Isaac a business card.
Isaac read the print: CEO of Ricktentation.
"If you ever have time, call me," Nathanael added before walking away with elegant confidence.
Isaac stared at the card for a moment, then at the man disappearing into the crowd.
CEO of Ricktentation. Ethan would have fainted on the spot. he thought
A soft smile tugged at his lips. Maybe this contact could help Ethan's career someday.
Claire had told Isaac the ceremony would start in forty minutes, so he wandered through the enormous event hall with no real destination. He wasn't having a bad time, he'd met interesting people, and several guests had recognized him from his photos. It felt surreal, almost absurd, like tasting temporary fame.
Still, he was looking for somewhere quiet to hide. Or maybe…he was also looking for Dante.
He slipped into a room two doors down from the main hall, perfect to rest for a bit.
And there he was.
Dante.
Stretched out on a sofa, one arm covering his face, lips slightly parted. Isaac paused at the doorway without meaning to. Dante's lips looked redder today, maybe he'd drunk something earlier, or maybe Isaac was just losing his mind.
"Either come in or stop staring," Dante muttered, not lifting his arm.
Shit. Isaac hadn't realized he'd frozen like an idiot.
"I didn't want to interrupt your precious beauty sleep," he said, taking a seat in the chair beside him.
At the sound of Isaac's voice, Dante removed his hand and looked at him. Isaac couldn't read the expression, Dante's brow was creased, annoyance etched in his features, yet his eyes held something… different. Something almost trusting, as if Isaac had somehow become a familiar presence.
"Hasn't the ceremony started yet?" Dante asked, tone softer.
"In thirty minutes," Isaac replied.
Silence settled between them, heavy, loaded, as if both wanted to say something but neither could.
Dante glanced at his phone, pretending the tension wasn't there. Isaac couldn't do the same. Something inside him wouldn't quiet down. For the first time in his life he felt impulsive, dangerously impulsive around someone. He wanted to talk to him, look at him, maybe even…
He needed to get away from Dante before he did something stupid.
"Why didn't Ethan come?" Isaac asked, trying to push down the tightness he felt.
Dante blinked, like the question took a second to reach him."He's sick. Something stomach-related, I think. Why?"
"No big reason. I met the CEO of RickTentation. Thought I might pass Ethan his contact."
"Oh. Wow." Dante's tone was genuinely impressed."That guy's supposedly impossible to reach. Must be your lucky day."
"I thought nothing was impossible for the Blacks," Isaac teased lightly.
Dante let out a small huff."Even for us, that man's always traveling. Doesn't answer calls. If he gave you his number, that's already—"
Isaac stopped listening halfway through.
He couldn't stop staring at him.
Dante's attention drifted back to his phone, but Isaac's mind was running circles.
Do I actually like him…? The thought terrified him.
Of all people, Dante Black?
Meanwhile Dante was drowning in a different panic. This was the perfect moment. He could tell Isaac the truth about the scholarship. Explain himself. Maybe Isaac would understand… maybe not. But he had to say it.
Isaac stood up suddenly. Typical Isaac, quiet, calm, unreadable. Which made it even harder for Dante to guess how he'd react.
"Isaac, wait—" Dante stood too, stopping him right before he reached the door.
Isaac turned. His face was serious, almost annoyed at being interrupted. And those golden eyes…Dante felt naked under them.
"I—look, Isaac…" Dante's voice trembled. He hated it. He couldn't hold the man's gaze. Not now. Not with the guilt clawing up his throat.
Isaac frowned. It was strange seeing Dante avoid eye contact...Dante, who usually met the world head-on like he owned it.
"Are you feeling sick again?" Isaac asked, still dry but noticeably concerned.
"No… I just… I need to tell you something," Dante muttered, words tripping over themselves. "I don't know how to say it."
Isaac stayed quiet, but inside he was spiraling.
Why is he so nervous?
Why is this… cute?
Why do I want him even more like this?
This is ridiculous. Stop looking at his mouth.
Dante ran a hand through his hair, stressed, frustrated."I just… I should've told you sooner because—"
He finally looked up. Directly. Nervously. Wide-eyed.
And that was it. Isaac felt something snap loose inside him.
"Dante…" he whispered, voice low, almost dazed.
He reached out.
Held Dante's face between his hands. Firmly. Surely.
And kissed him.
Dante's lips were cold from the air conditioning, soft, tense with shock, and faintly sweet, like he'd bitten into something sugary hours ago. Isaac pressed in gently, then caught Dante's lower lip between his teeth, a slow, deliberate pull that sent heat straight to his chest.
Dante froze, eyes blown wide.
What—What the hell, Why is he—?
He reacted a second too late, shoving Isaac back with clumsy force.
"What the hell, Isaac!" His voice cracked, breath uneven.He stared, stunned, cheeks flushing violently. "Don't—don't ever do that again."
He couldn't understand it. Why Isaac would kiss him. Why? It didn't make sense. He pushed, past him toward the door, muttering something about the ceremony, clearly fleeing.
Isaac remained exactly where he stood.
His pulse hammered so hard he thought it might bruise his ribs. He touched his own lips, stunned.
What the fuck did I just do?
Fear surged through him, but so did something devastatingly warm.
Dante's mouth had been sweet. Soft.
And he wanted more. Wanted him.
Completely.
I'm screwed, he thought, shaken to his core.