Fireworks

Gabriel

Tonight was the night of Edward’s engagement party, the estate next door to ours buzzing with celebration. Edward, our neighbor, was Tom’s father, and our families had always been close. Edward’s fiancé, Joanna, was new to the picture, but tonight wasn’t about questioning the speed of their relationship. It was about their happiness, their engagement—and, of course, the fireworks show set to explode over the sky later to mark the 4th of July.

The weather was perfect, one of those rare July evenings where the air was warm but comfortable, and a soft breeze whispered through the trees. Edward’s sprawling backyard looked like something out of a magazine: carefully curated with fairy lights strung across the lush, manicured beds, fire pits surrounded by cozy seating, and a sleek clear tent set up for dinner, glowing with elegant lights from above. The DJ had already started his music choice, filling the air across the bluestone patio that had been turned into a dance floor. Friends, family, business partners—everyone was mingling, drinks in hand, voices floating through the night air like music in itself.

I adjusted my black suit jacket, leaving my white shirt unbuttoned just enough to keep things casual but sharp. Brown leather shoes and a matching belt completed the look. My watch gleamed in the light, and the cologne I’d chosen was subtle but effective, the kind of scent that lingers when you lean in just a little too close. After all, tonight was about making impressions.

By the time I arrived, the party was in full swing. I dropped off my gift—a Waterford crystal frame—on the table already stacked with well-wrapped presents and made my way through the crowd, catching sight of Tom at the bar. I moved toward him, resting a hand on his shoulder as he greeted me with a grin.

“Gabe! Glad you made it, man,” Tom said, raising his glass in a silent toast to me. “Get yourself a drink.”

“I’ll have what he’s having,” I said, nodding at the bartender. Tom’s go-to was Blanton’s on the rocks—solid choice for the night.

We slipped into the usual small talk: work, upcoming projects, a possible merger on the horizon. But my attention wasn’t fully on the conversation. How could it be when she walked in? It was impossible to focus on anything else as my gaze locked onto Danika—the kind of woman who could command a room without even trying.

Danika had arrived on the far side of the patio, joining her mother, Joanna, with effortless grace. Her brown hair, kissed with soft highlights, was parted in the middle and framed her face perfectly, with subtle side bangs that only enhanced the soft angles of her beauty. Her makeup was just right—enough to accentuate her already stunning features, her lips glistening with a soft, glossy shine that had me imagining things I shouldn’t. I took in her outfit, and it was all over. She wore a black and nude lace strappy V-neck bodysuit that clung to her like a second skin, paired with a high-waisted faux leather pencil skirt that hugged her curves. The skirt had a slit high on the thigh, revealing just enough to make a man’s imagination run wild. She was a vision of seductive elegance, effortlessly drawing the eyes of every man in the room—and I wasn’t immune.

I barely heard Tom’s voice as he leaned in beside me, “That’s Danika, Joanna’s daughter. I told you about her, remember? She’s hot, right? Too bad she’s about to be my stepsister. Otherwise, I’d definitely go for it.”

I smirked, thankful for his remark, because the moment he claimed her as off-limits, it meant she was mine to pursue. And pursue her I would. “Hot doesn’t even describe her, man,” I replied, my gaze still locked on her.

As Danika bent down to hug Tom’s Aunt Monna, I caught sight of the swell of her breasts straining against the bodysuit, teasing the edge of what was acceptable in polite company. The fabric hugged her chest, making it impossible not to imagine the softness beneath. My mind wandered for a split second, imagining her on her knees, that glossy mouth wrapped around me—my breath hitched at the thought. Damn, I needed to get a grip.

“Jesus, my dick’s already hard,” Connor, another one of our associates, whispered beside me, chuckling as he ogled her.

“Dude, she’s out of your league,” Tom scoffed, though Connor had already made up his mind to try. He crossed the dance floor, full of confidence, only to be intercepted by a group of middle-aged women begging him to dance. The look of disappointment on his face was priceless.

“Connor’s so pissed right now,” Tom said, laughing. “I’ve got to go say hi to a few people, but I’ll catch you later, bro.” He clapped me on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

I barely acknowledged him. My focus was solely on Danika, who was slowly making her way in my direction, her hips swaying ever so slightly as she greeted people along the way. Every man’s eyes lingered on her as she passed, but it was the way her eyes sparkled when she caught sight of me that set my blood on fire.

I leaned over the bar and ordered a glass of champagne, guessing that was her drink of choice. The bartender smiled knowingly as he placed the flute in front of me, clearly understanding my intent.

She was getting closer now, her lips curling into a soft smile as she approached the bar.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

Here we go.

Danika stepped up beside me, her eyes catching mine for just a second longer than necessary as she waved to the bartender. “Hi, may I have a glass of champagne?”

The bartender shot me a look, and I seized the moment, sliding the glass I’d already ordered in front of her with a smile.

“I had a feeling you’d want one,” I said, my voice low and steady, the tension between us crackling like electricity.

Her eyes widened slightly, surprised but amused. A coy smile played on her lips as she accepted the drink, her fingers brushing mine for just a moment. That single touch was enough to send a pulse of heat straight through me.

“I’m Danika,” she said softly, her voice smooth and sultry, “but you can call me Dani... if you’d like.”

There was a hint of challenge in her eyes, like she knew exactly the effect she was having on me—and on every man around her. But none of them mattered now. Tonight, she was mine to pursue. And I wasn’t about to let her slip away.