She didn't expect a message the next morning.
Much less three.
Renee's came first—voice memo. "Babyyyy, last night was divine. I want your skin, your hair, your whole innocent aesthetic. Join us for brunch this Saturday, okay? Luca says you're free, so don't argue."
Then Valeria. Text only. Wear something fabulous. Something that says, "Yes, I'm cute but I can also destroy you."
And finally, Elias. Don't bring a man. We don't like men. We do like them but not now. Just bring your laugh. I like that sound.
Eliana stared at her phone, still in bed, wrapped in her blanket like a burrito, hair a bird's nest, mascara smudged from last night.
She smiled.
It was a small smile. A gentle one. But real.
She wasn't used to people wanting her around just because. Not for work. Not out of obligation. Just… wanting her company. Her laugh.
Three months ago she'd been heartbroken and invisible.
Now she was being told to dress fabulously and show up for brunch with people who looked like cover models and walked like they owned the world.
So she did.
They met at a rooftop café dripping in flowers and gold trim. The menu was entirely in French and none of them spoke French. Renee ordered mimosas with the confidence of royalty. Elias insisted they try every pastry twice. Valeria flirted with the waiter, then left her number on a napkin shaped like a swan.
And they pulled her in like she'd always been part of them.
"You ever dated a DJ?" Elias asked over a forkful of lemon tart. "Because I've got two who owe me favors and both are cute disasters."
Eliana nearly choked on her croissant. "Absolutely not."
Renee grinned. "Good girl. DJs are emotionally constipated."
"Like photographers," Valeria added. "Or baristas who only do pour-over."
They laughed. Loud. Unfiltered. Heads tilted back, glasses clinking. Eliana felt like she was glowing.
"I swear, you're one of us now," Elias said, nudging her foot under the table.
"One of what?" she teased.
"Unhinged, beautiful, deeply dramatic people who drink too much and pretend we're normal."
Valeria raised her glass. "To pretending."
"To brunch," Renee added.
"To Eliana," Elias said, with a little bow. "Our newest favorite person."
They clinked again.
Over the next weeks, the invitations kept coming.
Movie nights at Elias's penthouse—floor cushions, red wine, endless commentary from Renee. Spa days where Valeria snuck them into her clinic and gave Eliana a free glow facial while playing Beyoncé. Random weekday dinners where they ordered ten dishes and judged everyone at nearby tables.
And Nicky.
He was always there.
Quiet. Observing. Occasionally saying something wickedly funny that made Renee spit out her drink. He never demanded attention, never clung to anyone. He existed like a shadow of silk—present but untouchable.
He didn't say much to Eliana, not at first. But he sat beside her. Passed her napkins. Poured her wine. Lifted an eyebrow every time someone teased her.
They were never alone. And it wasn't romantic.
Just quiet understanding.
The kind you didn't need to name.
One night, Luca threw another house party—more casual, mostly just them and a few mutuals from the fashion world.
Eliana was in the kitchen, stealing macarons from the fridge, when she heard Valeria behind her.
"You really make us all look soft," she said, leaning on the counter, sipping her wine.
Eliana looked up. "That's not a bad thing… right?"
Valeria smiled. "No, darling. Not bad. Just rare. People like you? Who aren't playing a game? We collect them. And we don't let them go."
"I like being collected," Eliana murmured, reaching for another macaron.
"That's dangerous," Elias added, appearing out of nowhere with a plate of olives. "Letting people keep you. Careful—next thing you know, you'll be planning group vacations and crying over someone's ex with us."
"Already done the second one," she joked.
Renee's voice drifted in from the hallway. "We're planning a weekend trip to the lakehouse in two weeks! Eliana, you're coming."
"I am?"
"You don't have a choice!" Luca yelled from upstairs. "You're mine now, angel baby. I share you only on weekends and only if they behave."
And just like that, she belonged.
Not just at the office. Not just on Luca's arm for events.
But here.
With them.
Messy. Loud. Beautiful.
Her heart still had scars, but it was filling with color again. With affection that didn't ask for anything back. With laughter. With love—not the kind that broke you, but the kind that held you while you healed.
The lakehouse looked like it had been plucked from a magazine spread about "rich people who don't care about money but care deeply about aesthetics."
White-washed wood, huge glass windows, a sprawling deck with a fire pit, and a dock that reached out into blue-green water. The air smelled like pine and sun lotion and toasted marshmallows. Somewhere in the back, Elias was blasting early 2000s pop music like it was a religious experience.
Eliana stepped out of the car with a duffel bag and a breathy laugh. "Are we even allowed to be this obnoxiously perfect?"
Valeria slid her sunglasses down and winked. "Only if we bring good wine and better secrets."
They'd arrived in a flurry of noise and designer luggage—Eliana, Luca, Valeria, Renee, Elias, and Nicky. Just the six of them. No staff, no glam, no events. Just two and a half days of lake, games, wine, and questionable decisions.
Eliana was buzzing.
By noon, swimsuits were on, drinks were flowing, and Luca was already floating in the lake on a gold inflatable swan, screaming at everyone to "hydrate and exfoliate."
Eliana padded barefoot onto the deck, sipping something with too much vodka and not enough juice. She wore a white cover-up that clung to her still-damp skin and her hair had started curling from the humidity. She didn't care.
She was happy.
And then she saw him.
Nicky.
Coming up the dock from the water, towel slung over his shoulder, wearing low-slung black swim trunks and a plain white shirt he hadn't bothered to button. His hair was damp, curling against his forehead. The sun hit his collarbones, his chest, the slight V of muscle disappearing beneath the waistband of his trunks.
Eliana froze.
For the past three months, Nicky had existed in silks and shadows. Dresses that floated. Eyeliner that could cut glass. He was beautiful, always—but this was different.
This wasn't ethereal.
This was dangerous.
Rugged. Bare. Quiet heat.
He didn't even look at her as he walked past, grabbing a drink and murmuring something to Elias.
And she couldn't look away.
Not at the way his shirt clung to the wet line of his back. Not at the muscles shifting beneath his skin. Not at the way his fingers absently wiped lake water from his jaw.
"Eliana," Renee whispered, sliding next to her with a devilish grin. "Pick your jaw up, sweetheart."
She startled. "What? No. I wasn't—I wasn't staring."
Valeria appeared on her other side. "Oh, honey. We were all staring. It's the Shirtless Effect."
"Don't name it," Elias said from behind them. "If we name it, he'll stop doing it."
"I'm not interested," Eliana muttered, trying to sound casual. "He's just—different like this."
Luca walked by with a towel turban and a popsicle. "Darling, everyone is different shirtless. Some of us improve. Some… transcend."
The girls cackled.
Eliana turned away, cheeks warm. It wasn't even attraction, not really. She just hadn't seen him like that before. There was something raw about it. Something that stuck to her ribs. She hadn't known that his shoulders were that broad. That his chest had that slope. That when he laughed—deep and low—it made her want to swallow the sound.
Later that night, they built a bonfire. Elias told terrible ghost stories. Renee brought out tarot cards. They passed around wine and burned marshmallows and ended up in a messy tangle of blankets on the deck, half-drunk and half-asleep.
Nicky sat beside her.
Close.
His thigh pressed lightly against hers. Bare skin. Warm from the fire.
He didn't say much.
Just passed her the bottle when she tapped his arm.
Just leaned in when she whispered, "That story Elias told? About the ghost in the lake? Absolute garbage."
He smirked. The first real one she'd seen from him.
And for a moment, Eliana forgot how to breathe.