Her fingers were still loosely held in Manson's grip as he subtly guided her closer, the motion quiet but deliberate like he was repositioning pieces on a board only he understood.
"Fiona, move a little," Manson said flatly, as if it were nothing more than an instruction.
Fiona's eyes widened in mild shock. She barely had time to adjust before the space beside Manson was invaded.
A girl slid in.
Not gently. Not politely. She simply pushed herself into the seat beside him, settling as though she belonged there more than anyone else.
"Isabella… your dad let you out without a bodyguard?" Ryan asked, already sounding amused.
Isabella lifted her head with effortless confidence. "Hi, Ryan. No. They're downstairs. I'm not a baby."
Ryan let out a short laugh, leaning back. "Hahaha. But you are their only baby. I bet you lied about coming to the club."
That made Fiona pause.
Her attention sharpened.
Something about the tone, the ease, the way everyone spoke around Isabella.
