Navy's Sons: Bullied by Quadruplet Stepbrothers novel Chapter 6

Tabitha’s POV

Two days later, the day of the engagement party finally arrives and the whole Aldair estate is unrecognizable. The entire courtyard is transformed into a grand venue, with deep navy and silver draping the tented ceilings, which reflect the pack’s signature colors. The place smells faintly of fresh pine, expensive cologne, and champagne. The estate screams of so much wealth and luxury that I momentarily forget I used to live in a one-bedroom apartment with my mother just a week ago.

“Is everything in order?” my Mom asks one of the maids while scanning the whole courtyard area that will host all the guests. It is so huge you can build another mansion there. “I need everything to be perfect.”

My Mom is a meticulous woman, especially with things that involve parties and anything grand. She’s got keen attention to detail—I’d say she has a talent. She was just born in the wrong tax bracket, so she wasn’t able to put her talent into use. But since she’s marrying Emery Aldair, she’s finally finding herself in a position where her talent can shine. And honestly? She deserves it.

The estate has been buzzing with people since sunrise, and for once, the Aldair brothers haven’t stirred up chaos. They’ve been surprisingly tolerable the past few days. Still a bunch of assholes, sure, but at least they’ve been showing up for lunch since that crazy target-shooting stunt. They keep their words, I’ll give them that.

Out on the upper balcony, I spot Reed with Ian and Wilson. He’s dressed in an all-black tux, two buttons undone at the collar, exposing a tattoo scrawled across his chest. A cigar rests between his fingers. He’s half-listening to whatever Ian’s saying, barely nodding. Then his eyes cut toward me.

For a second, he just stares. Then he takes a slow drag off his cigar before blowing the smoke in my direction.

I look away. Why am I even staring at him? I should pull my shit together.

I shift my attention to the courtyard that is now slowly being filled by guests in expensive suits and designer gowns. I see some familiar faces I haven’t seen in years. And I’m not excited to meet them again.

“Tabitha, come here for a second,” Mom calls softly from behind me. I turn to find her making her way over. She looks stunning in her cream-colored gown that hugs her figure modestly and falls in soft, elegant folds to the floor. When I was younger, people would tell me that I look like my mom and I wouldn’t believe them. I always felt that she’s too beautiful to be compared to me. And her age now doesn’t even dull her beauty.

She reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “There,” she says, taking a step back to look at me properly. “You look gorgeous.”

“So do you. Really. That dress is perfect on you.”

Her lips twitch, but the worry doesn’t quite leave her eyes. She glances toward the entrance, where more guests are beginning to arrive in clusters, greeted by butlers in sharp uniforms. She keeps adjusting her bracelet, fingers tugging at the clasp for the third time, unable to keep still.

“You nervous?” I ask, though it’s quite obvious. I just want to get her attention off the wave of approaching guests.

She exhales slowly, her smile faltering. “A little. There are a lot of people coming tonight. Not just from Crystal Ridge, but from the Stormblood and Deathclaw packs too. Emery says some of the council members will be here as well.”

I glance around, then back at her. “You’ll be fine. You’re good at this.”

She really is. While Dad and I are introvert to the core, my Mom is an extrovert through and through. She is good at mingling with people and entertaining guests. I know she’ll do well tonight.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she offers me a more relaxed smile.

I give her a reassuring smile. I want her to face the guests confidently—although I can’t say the same thing for myself. I feel the same nerves she does. Maybe more. Because I know who else is expected to arrive tonight. I know who I might run into.

Yennifer Wix.

The thought alone makes my stomach twist. Facing the Aldair brothers again was one thing, but meeting another one of my worst bullies is another.

Before I can spiral any further, Emery steps in from the side, his arm snaking easily around my mother’s waist.

“It’s time, honey.” He leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Guests are starting to arrive. We should go welcome them.”

“Of course.” Mom nods quickly.

She glances back at me and smooths down the side of my dress one last time, like she’s memorizing me before walking away.

“You look beautiful,” she whispers. “I’m so proud of you.”

I manage a small smile. “You’re the one in cream silk, Mom. You look like you belong on the cover of a magazine.”

That earns a soft laugh from her, though there’s still worry behind her eyes.

Then, Yennifer turns her head towards me. My heart jumps to my throat in panic. I quickly snatch a wine glass from a passing waiter and bring it to my face, pretending to sip. Then I quickly walk toward the towering engagement cake like it's a damn fortress. I station myself behind it, half-covered by the giant multi-tiered monstrosity.

This is pathetic.

I told myself I’d be strong this time. I swore I wouldn’t be the girl who hides anymore. But old fears don’t die just because you’ve grown taller or learned to bite back. Especially not when that fear is a living and breathing evil incarnate named Yennifer Wix.

I exhale slowly, trying not to sweat through the satin of my dress. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’ll get through this party. I have to! For my mom…

“Boo!”

“Ah, Crap!” My heart slams against my chest as I jolt in place, nearly knocking over the base of the cake. I spin around, already flustered, and come face-to-face with a man who looks like he stepped out of a damn catalog. He bites his lip as if suppressing a laugh.

The man raises his hands slightly in a harmless gesture. “Sorry,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Though, hiding behind the cake? That one’s on you.”

My cheeks heat as I get a better look at him. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark, well-fitted suit that doesn’t scream for attention but clearly wasn’t bought off the rack. His tie’s loosened, just enough to look effortless instead of lazy. The kind of guy who knows how to carry himself.

“I wasn’t hiding,” I lie. “Just… taking a breather.”

He looks amused. “Fair enough. It’s a full house out there.”

I nod once, trying not to fidget under his gaze. There’s something curious in the way he studies me. He’s got that quiet sense of authority around him that reminds me of Emery Aldair.

“I’m Arthur, by the way…” he says, finally extending a hand. “Arthur Beckett. From the Stormblood Pack.”

Wait, Arthur Beckett?