Paris couldn't help but smile at her reflection. No designer labels tonight, just Fashion Nova, her forever go-to. Rich or not, that brand hugged her body like it was made just for her. The black sequin mini dress clung to every curve, backless and sleek, snapping behind her neck with a simple elegance that didn't try too hard.
Her baby bump wasn't obvious, but it was there. Soft, subtle, and proudly worn. With her hair slicked back into a sharp ponytail, the princess-cut diamonds in her ears sparkled under the vanity lights. No necklace. No bracelets. Just her wedding ring and those earrings. Classic. Quietly bold. And on her feet? Black YSL heels that made her legs look like sin in stilettos.
"Time to go."
His voice cut through the quiet like a knife, low and smooth, as Shane appeared behind her in the mirror. Dressed in an all-black Tom Ford suit, crisp white button-down beneath, he looked lethal. Polished. Cold.
Paris didn't respond.
She rolled her eyes instead, slow, before grabbing her YSL bag and brushing past him with a purposeful bump of her shoulder. Her YSL heels echoed sharply against the marble floors, each step sounding more like a warning than a walk.
She found the kids next, lingering as long as she could in their rooms. Pressing kisses to foreheads, adjusting covers that didn't need fixing. Anything to stall. Because the truth was, she didn't want to go. Not with him.
By the time she returned, Shane was in the foyer waiting, posted like a shadow. Still, silent, watching.
Her steps slowed on the stairs. Not out of hesitation, but because the energy between them was thick. Hostile and electric.
She reached the last step and let the venom drip from her lips.
"You're casket sharp," she said flatly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "That for your own funeral... or your little girlfriend's?"
He opened the door for her without saying a word, eyes never leaving hers.
She rolled her eyes again, sharper this time.
He smirked, unbothered. "Keep rollin' your eyes like that," he said calmly, "and it's gonna be yours"
The door swung wider, the air between them charged with everything left unsaid.
She folded her arms in protest, standing her ground.
But Shane? He was done with the back and forth.
"Get in the damn car." his patience wearing thin.
He held the door open, waiting. Not gently. Not with care. Just... waiting.
She slid in, slow and petty, legs crossing like she was daring him to slam the door.
And he did. Hard.
Shane stalked around to the driver's side and got in. If it were any other night, he'd have someone drive. But not tonight. Tonight, he wanted her alone. No ears. No interruptions. He'd even told Cameron and Yasmine to take off without them.
She'd dodged him all evening—but now she had nowhere to run.
The car eased down the long, winding driveway. The gate came into view, inching open like it already knew a storm was brewing.
Shane glanced at her as they waited.
Still folded arms. Still that scowl. Still... beautiful.
A smirk tugged at his mouth as he reached over, gently tugging at her arms like he could disarm her with a touch.
"Don't touch me," she snapped, sharp and immediate.
He chuckled under his breath, and that only lit her up more.
