Chapter 14

PHAYU'S POV

Kaia stirs between us, blinking her eyes open like she hasn't just spent the whole ride home drooling on my shirt.

"Papaaa," she murmurs, reaching for Rain with both hands.

He blinks. "I thought you were sleeping, princess?"

She nods sleepily, curls messy, face still sticky with sugar. "I was. But Dada came to pick me up and we had ice cream. And the girl in the shop was making funny faces at him."

I freeze.

Rain slowly turns his head to look at me, one eyebrow rising in that signature so-you-wanna-explain-or-should-I-start-digging-your-grave look.

I clear my throat, deadpan. "I have no idea what she's talking about."

But I do.

Because women have a broken sense of threat detection.

They either bolt the second they see me... or they run headfirst into the fire.

And if I thought being a chick magnet was bad before—walking into an ice cream shop in all black, covered in tattoos, with Kaia on my hip and Rain nowhere in sight?

Yeah. It was worse.

Exponential.

And now my own daughter, the one I used to debrief after every school day like a tiny spy—"Did any uncles talk to Papa today?" "What did they look like?" "Did Papa smile?"—

She's turning on me.Weaponizing my own tactics.

I squint at her.She just grins, innocent and chaotic.Traitor.

Rain's still watching me, amusement simmering under the surface.

"Funny faces, huh?" he muses. "What kind of faces, Kaia?"

Kaia shrugs. "Like this."

She proceeds to make the world's worst attempt at a sultry wink.

Rain loses it, head thrown back in laughter.

And I just sit there, betrayed on both fronts.By my daughter.By my husband.

And still pathetically in love with both of them.

And then—because Kaia is genetically incapable of subtlety—she sits straight up between us, eyes wide like she's just remembered the most urgent event of her life.

"Papa!" she yells, gripping Rain's arm. "I have a date with Dada tonight! You have to dress me up like a princess!"

Rain blinks, caught somewhere between amusement and horror. "A what now?"

Kaia bounces on the bed, suddenly fully awake, curls flying. "A Dada-Princess Date! He said I get to dress up like a lady!"

I nod solemnly, because I did in fact say those exact words, and I'm already preparing myself to wear a tiny tiara and hold her glitter purse if required.

Rain slowly turns his head toward me. "You planned a date with our five-year-old and didn't consult wardrobe?"

"She's very fashion forward," I deadpan. "I figured she'd handle that part."

Kaia gasps. "Papa! I need my pink dress! And the sparkly shoes! And the butterfly clip that matches my bow!"

Rain groans into his hands but he's already sitting up, reaching for her. "You're lucky you're cute," he mutters, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Kaia just beams and throws her arms around him.

"I'm going on a date with my Dada!" she declares again, smug. "And you have to make me the prettiest princess in the world."

Rain looks at me over her shoulder.

"Oh, I will," he says, dark promise in his voice. "I'm going to make sure she's so pretty, prettier than any woman making funny faces at dada."

Kaia claps. I sigh.This is my life now.And honestly?I wouldn't trade it for anything.

...

Since I'm in full dad-and-husband mode today, I take Kaia to the bathroom for a quick rinse to get the school day off her skin. She babbles the whole time—about gummy bears and playground drama and how she's going to order three desserts on our date tonight—and I just nod along, gently washing behind her ears.

Once she's clean and giggling, I wrap her up in a towel and carry her into our closet.

I grab one of my old t-shirts—the soft, worn kind that hangs past her feet—and slip it over her head. It swallows her whole. She looks like a very smug duckling playing dress-up.

She loves it.

I find a pair of her little shorts shoved behind a pile of Rain's sweatpants and help her into those too. It's not coordinated, but I don't have it in me to take her to her room just to get changed, only to bring her back here for her nap.

We're operating on efficiency today.

She marches out of the closet like she's on a runway, arms out to show off her look.

Rain glances up from where he's lounging in bed, laptop open. He takes one look at her—my t-shirt down to her shins, hair damp and wild—and laughs.

"You're unbelievable," he says, still grinning as Kaia poses proudly.

"My princess wanted comfort," I say, shrugging. "And designer's choice was limited."

Kaia flings herself onto the bed dramatically, climbing over Rain's legs and crawling into his arms.

He lifts his arm for her, and she tucks herself right under it, cheek on his chest, his heartbeat steady in her ear.

She's out within minutes.

I tuck the blanket around them both and just watch for a second—Rain's fingers lazily doodling shapes on his tablet with one hand, the other curled protectively around the tiny, dreaming body curled against him.

It's quiet and warm.The kind of moment most men like me don't get to keep.

But I will.I will.

Because they're mine.And I'll burn the world before I lose this.

He watches me and murmurs, "So...dinner?"

I shrug, the way you do when you want something simple and real. "It's been a while. I want tonight to be just for her—no emails, no calls. Dresses, glitter, sugar."

He smiles, the soft dangerous smile I know too well, and reaches for my hand. I take it and kiss his knuckles "Good. I'll make her pretty."

"She already is," I tell him, because she is—the brightest thing in the room.

He feigns insult, then asks, casual as always, "And what do I do while you two are out?"

I shrug off my tank and crawl back into the bed with them, letting the quiet settle. "Stay pretty and wait for us."

He rolls his eyes and hands me his iPad. The screen wakes to maps and pins—Arpon in town for his son's wedding. "Finally crawled out of his hole," he says. "Think I'll pull him in tonight, remind a few people who's still breathing around here."

I hum, thumb stroking Kaia's cheek as she snores between us. "Get Win if you want theatrics. Send me the plan."

He shrugs—effortless menace—"Been too long. People need reminding. I'll be in and out before you come back."

I tap the map, make a small note, and hand it back.

"Okay." I already feel the old muscle in my chest tighten and ease, the part of me built for this life answering the call, I grab my own iPad. "Send me the plans. I'll look them over."

He taps, sends. The map slides across the screen: routes, exits, times. My fingers ghost over it, not because I need to, but because I want to—want to be the other half of this machine even on a day that's supposed to glitter.

I mark a detail, suggest a pullback point. He thumbs back an acknowledgment and sends it.

We lie there—blanket half on, laptop forgotten—our daughter sleeping like the world will always be this small.

...

We're working quietly, our iPads syncing maps and messages across the pillows, when Rain glances at the time.

"Phi," he murmurs, nudging my foot with his. "Can you make us a board? Kaia's gonna wake up soon, and I don't want her eating anything heavy—she'll ruin dinner."

I set the iPad down immediately, already watching Kaia shift under the blanket. "Got it. Want anything specific?"

He shakes his head, already preoccupied with his screen. "Cheese. Honey. Crackers. A bit of grapes."

"Milk or juice?"

"Both. In case she gets fussy. Options keep the peace."

I nod. "Understood."

I circle the bed, lean down, and press a kiss to his hair. He hums but doesn't look up, already sketching something on his screen. I'm at the door, halfway out, when he calls—

"Phi?"

I turn, hand on the frame.

"Put on a fucking shirt."

I blink, then smirk. "Why? I'm literally going to the kitchen."

Rain doesn't even miss a beat. "Exactly. We don't live alone, and I don't want the fantasy of my shirtless husband living rent-free in someone else's head."

I laugh, and wink as I catch my tank that he throws at me "Then you better keep feeding the fantasy better than anyone else ever could."

He doesn't respond, but I hear the faint sound of a snort and the flick of his stylus hitting the screen.

...

I'm in the kitchen assembling the snack board for Kaia and Rain when Win strolls in, takes one look, and cocks an eyebrow. "What the fuck are you doing, boss?"

"Making a board," I say, grabbing grapes from the fridge. "For Kaia and Rain. What does it look like?"

He snorts, drops a quick update about the crew, and I tell him Rain's planning to move on Arpon tonight. "I'll send you and Saifah the plan to vet and push back to Rain," I add.

"You going with him?"

I shake my head. "I've got a date with Kaia."

He raises both brows and says, "Good. Use it to stomp any fantasies that cockroach Rocky might've planted in her head."

I grunt, fair point.

His hand reaches in toward the board and I smack it without looking. "Hands off."

Win grins, unbothered, and leans against the counter.

I take the moment. "You and Saifah are going to start training Kaia when Rain and I can't. Keep it light. Nothing she'll associate with fear. Drills she enjoys. Expand what you've already been teaching her—awareness, basic holds, survival tricks. She can swim. Build from that."

He straightens slightly, the grin fading into focus. "Got it." Then, after a beat, "Rain finally on board with this?"

I nod. "Yeah. He is. Took Kora for him to see it, but we're here now. She needs to start learning."

Win doesn't argue. He just hums and says, "She's a fast learner. And stubborn. Wonder where she got that from."

I shoot him a look. He smirks, reaches for the grapes again—I smack his hand twice as hard.

"Fuck off or I'll stab you."

He laughs, raising both hands in surrender as he backs away, cocky as ever. "Alright, alright. Let me know when you're leaving for your date," he calls out over his shoulder. "Need to shower my goddaughter with compliments and take at least a hundred pictures."

"My daughter is not a fucking doll in a show glass."

He just grins wider and disappears down the hall. Idiot.But a useful one.

By the time I make it back upstairs, balancing the board in one hand, Kaia's already awake, nestled in Rain's arms like she never left them. His iPad's tossed aside, forgotten. He's rocking her gently, voice soft against her ear.

"Hi, tiger," I say, crouching beside the bed. "Had a good nap?"

She yawns and nods, eyes still hazy with sleep. I press a kiss to her head and stroke her cheek. "Got you snacks. Wanna eat some?"

I climb onto the bed next to them, settling the board between us with practiced care. Her eyes light up at the sight and she immediately grabs a piece of cheese, dunking it in the honey with way too much enthusiasm.

Rain raises a brow. "Good?"

Kaia nods, mouth full, already reaching for a grape.

I glance at Rain. "Ran into Win downstairs. Send him the plans from your end. Let him and Saifah run a quick check."

Rain nods, shifting Kaia a little so she's perched more comfortably in his lap.

We talk around her—light, coded words. Timelines, placements, routes—nothing she can latch onto. Meanwhile, she's feeding us grapes, placing cheese and crackers into Rain's mouth like it's a game.

She giggles every time I pretend to miss a bite and catch her fingers instead.

It's domestic.Soft.The kind of quiet before whatever comes next.

....

We're reviewing the updated plans Win and Saifah sent in, Rain skimming through maps while I analyze contingencies.

Kaia's bouncing across the bed like she's part kangaroo, milk cup in hand, and Rain doesn't even glance up when he warns, "Careful, baby. You're gonna spill your milk."

"Sorry, Papa," she chirps—but she doesn't stop.

She jumps again, too close to the board. It tips.

"Kaia!" Rain's voice sharpens, just enough to catch.

She freezes mid-bounce, guilt all over her face. Rain levels her with that calm authority only he seems to pull off without raising his voice.

"You told Dada not to take the board off yet because you still want to eat. So do you want more, or do you want to spill everything all over the bed?"

She pouts—big eyes, lips wobbling—and crawls straight into my lap, curling into me like she's been wronged by the entire world.

I chuckle, kiss her temple, and shoot Rain a look. He just sighs, shaking his head as he lifts the board off the bed and sets it aside.

He's always been better at scolding her. I can't do it. Her sad eyes wreck me.

Rain softens too, "If you want more, you can just ask me, okay?"

Kaia gives the smallest nod.

"I'm sorry for snapping," Rain says gently. "But you need to be careful so we don't end up ruining the bed, okay, baby?"

"Sorry Papa," she mumbles.

Rain ruffles her curls. "That's okay. Wanna give me a hug?"

She shakes her head.

Rain gasps theatrically. "Are you mad at me because I scolded you?"

She nods. Then quickly shakes her head.

Rain chuckles and leans in to kiss her cheek anyway. "I'm sorry, baby. But we don't like naughty girls, do we? And you don't want to be a naughty girl, hm?"

She shakes her head hard. "No."

He kisses her again, satisfied, then carefully gets off the bed. I catch the little wince he tries to hide.

"You okay there, baby?" I call out.

He throws me a stink eye over his shoulder. "Wouldn't you like to know."

I snort, hugging Kaia tighter.

She tilts her head, watching him limp into the bathroom. "Is Papa hurt?"

I choke back a laugh.

"He's fine, baby," I say, smoothing her curls. "Just sore from his workout this morning."

"Should we get him ice?" she asks, all innocent concern.

I snort—can't help it—and then I'm chuckling.

That's exactly when Rain walks out of the bathroom, hair damp, towel slung over his shoulder. He squints at us, already suspicious. "What's funny?"

I grin. "Kaia's asking if you need ice, because you're 'sore'."

He freezes mid-step. Flushes deep. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

He mutters something under his breath, grabs the nearest pillow, and swings it toward me—carefully, obviously, trying not to hit Kaia.

Kaia's eyes light up like fireworks.

"Oh!" she squeals. "Pillow fight!"

And just like that, she grabs one of her own—tiny, pink, cartoon-patterned—and slams it into Rain's back with all the force her five-year-old arms can muster.

It explodes into chaos.

Laughter, squeals, swinging pillows and shrieks, Rain cursing half under his breath as Kaia teams up with me and ambushes him.

He's outnumbered, sore, and still somehow managing to dodge most hits like a trained assassin.

Which, in fairness, he is.

But this? This is war. And my team's winning.

...

The room is still buzzing with leftover laughter, Kaia breathless from giggling, completely over her earlier scolding like it never happened. She's in my lap now, straddling me, grabbing my face in both hands and squishing my cheeks into funny shapes.

I let her.

She snorts at the sight of me and then leans in to plant a loud, exaggerated kiss on my lips.

I chuckle, bop her nose. She kisses me again.And again.

It turns into a back-and-forth—me kissing her cheek, her kissing mine, then a quick peck on her nose and collapsing into laughter against my chest.

There's a knock at the door. Rain gets up to answer, still smiling.

One of the maids stands outside, voice soft and polite. "P'Cherry was asking if you two were having dinner in or if the kitchen should wait."

Rain gives her a small smile. "Phi and Kaia are going out for dinner. Let P'Cherry know not to wait on us."

She nods and disappears.

By the time he closes the door and walks back in, Kaia has her fingers hooked in my mouth, grinning like she's proud of herself. I raise a brow. "You gonna let me breathe, tiger?"

She laughs but doesn't move—until Rain reaches the bed and swoops her up with a dramatic sigh.

"Excuse me," he says, lifting her off me and into his arms, "I believe I'm due some kisses too."

Kaia giggles and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing sloppy kisses to his cheeks.

I just watch them, heart full, letting the moment etch itself into my bones.

"Alright, little miss, time to get ready for your date."

Kaia gasps like he just told her she won a crown. "I want my pink dress! No—the one with the sparkles! Wait, can I have a tiara? Papa, can I wear my tiara?!"

Rain just laughs and carries her off, already answering her stream of demands as they go to her closet.

I know that's going to take a while.

So I slip downstairs and head into the garden. Not just any part—their garden. Rain and Kaia's. The one they planted together. He says it keeps her grounded. I say it makes them both extra .

The guards see me. They look away like trained men should. They all know, only Kaia gets me to do things like this.

I crouch down, pick a few of the blooming white gardenias and small pink daisies she loves. Strip off the dead leaves.

Back in the kitchen, the maids scatter the moment I walk in with dirt on my hands and flowers in my grip.

"Do you need help, sir?" one of them asks carefully.

"No."

I grab a small knife, start trimming thorns. A few petals fall to the counter.

P'Cherry walks in mid-way through, takes one look at me and sighs. "Don't butcher them. Move."

She disappears into the storage cabinet, comes back with pale satin ribbon and floral tape.

I let her arrange the stems, her hands quick and practiced. She ties the ribbon with a flourish, hands me the bouquet like she's handing off a mission file.

I nod once. "Thanks."

I take the bouquet upstairs, lay it carefully on the dresser, and step into the shower. Quick. Scrubbing off the day.

I dress in dark slacks and a button-down. No weapons yet. Just cologne and wristwatch .

Because tonight, I've got a date.

With my little lady.

RAIN'S POV

Kaia already had a shower before her nap, but I give her another one anyway. Mostly just to keep her still long enough for me to wash and condition her hair.

She's been talking nonstop—about her date with her Dada, about how Lily hasn't gone on any dates yet and maybe she'll ask if Lily can come next time. But then she pauses, eyes narrowing in the mirror, and decides firmly: "No. My Dada is mine."

That's my girl.No Rocky mention in sight. Small mercies.

We go through her absurdly overflowing closet. Clothes, shoes, jewelry—she has too much, spoiled rotten by the men in her life. Not that I'm innocent either.

After much deliberation and multiple vetoes from her, we settle on the pink satin gown with glitter trimmings and tiny embroidered flowers.

I towel-dry her curls gently and work conditioner through them with my fingers. She talks the entire time—about the dessert menu she hopes her date picked, whether she should curtsy or wave, what color ice cream she wants.

I dry and style her hair into soft, bouncy curls that frame her face. And when I open the drawer and find the small tiara her grandpapa gifted her, it's over.

She gasps. "That one!"

I crown her myself.

Diamond ear studs—Phi's doing. The delicate bracelet—mine. A touch of blush, mascara on her already long lashes, the shiniest lip gloss she owns, and her sparkly shoes.

She twirls in the center of the room like she's on a stage.

And I just stand there. Watching her.

Tears blur my vision.

She's so beautiful. So full of joy and excitement, her little hands fluttering as she talks about how she wants to hold her Dada's arm like a real lady does.

I clear my throat. "You're gonna break his heart, princess."

She gasps, eyes wide, mouth falling open in a dramatic frown. "No! I love Dada! I won't break his heart!"

I laugh, crouching in front of her, smoothing my hands down the skirt of her dress. "No, baby. I don't mean it that way."

Her lip wobbles, still unsure.

I take her tiny hands in mine. "I mean you're so beautiful he's not going to know what to do with himself. You're gonna make him cry."

She tilts her head, thinking it over. "Happy cry?"

I nod. "The happiest."

She smiles. Slow and proud. "Okay then."

And with that, she lifts her chin like royalty and says, "I'm ready to see my Dada."

PHAYU'S POV

I'm by the foyer, talking to Win and Saifah, Kaia's bouquet in one hand, my other lazily tucked in my pocket. We're going over final adjustments for tonight's plans, my eyes on the time.

And then...I hear movement.

I look up.

My breath catches.

Kaia is standing at the top of the stairs, grinning, one hand waving like she's about to walk into a palace ballroom.

Rain's behind her, calm and smiling like this isn't the moment that just shattered the earth beneath me.

I pocket my phone without a word and step to the bottom of the stairs. Everyone else goes quiet. They know better.

Rain takes her hand gently and walks her down, one step at a time. And when they reach the last stair, he places her small hand in mine.

She's blushing. Actually blushing. She looks up at me through her lashes and I swear I feel something twist deep in my chest.

I drop to one knee.

"You look beautiful, Princess."

Her eyes widen, smile blooming across her whole face. "Really, Dada?"

She twirls, the satin of her gown catching the light, tiara glittering in her curls.

I nod, my voice rough. "My real-life princess."

She gasps when I hand her the bouquet. Small white gardenias and pink daisies tied in pale ribbon—just like her.

"For me, Dada?" she asks, completely in awe.

I nod. "All yours."

She throws her arms around me, bouquet half-crushed between us, and I close my eyes for a second, just to hold onto it—this exact moment, this weightless joy.

RAIN'S POV

I try to blink the tears away, but they come anyway.

Watching Phi with her, it's everything.

Every single one of their interactions is wrapped in a kind of love that feels too big for this world. It's deep and gentle and unshakable. The way he looks at her like she's his entire world. The way she looks at him like he's never done a single thing wrong in his life.

People see Phayu as a weapon. A storm. A name that ends conversations.

But to Kaia, he's just Dada.

And it wrecks me every time.

I lift my phone, quietly taking picture after picture—her tiny arms around his neck, the bouquet crushed between them, the tears in his eyes he doesn't bother hiding.

From the hallway, Win whistles low. "Kai Bear, you're breaking my heart! You look too beautiful to be outside! Stay in, let the world miss out!"

Kaia giggles and hides her face in Phi's neck.

Saifah joins in, clutching his chest dramatically. "I told you she was gonna be too pretty for her own good!"

Even P'Cherry steps out from the kitchen, apron still on, wiping her hands on a towel. She takes one look at Kaia and just sighs.

"Like this, she's gonna have men crying by fifteen," she says.

"Twenty-five," I snap back without missing a beat.

"Thirty," Phi adds, not even turning around.

Kaia just beams, soaking in all the praise, her tiara tilted slightly, her bouquet hugged to her chest like it's sacred.

And I know she won't remember every detail of tonight.But we will.And that's enough.

Phi holds out his hand. "Shall we, Princess?"

Kaia giggles like she's floating and places her tiny hand in his palm with all the ceremony of royalty.

I follow them outside, heart too full, phone still in my hand. He walks slowly with her, like she's made of spun sugar, opening the car door and lifting her in. He buckles her into her seat with practiced ease, then adjusts her tiara carefully like it's priceless.

I lean in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Have a good date with your Dada, okay?"

She nods seriously.

"And remember—what do we always say?"

"Please, excuse me and thank you," she recites.

"Good girl. I love you so much."

She grabs my face in both hands. "I love you, Papa."

"I love you more, princess"

I close the door gently, making sure she's secure. Then I turn to Phi.

He exhales.

"How did I get so lucky?  She's perfect."

He opens his arms and I step into them without hesitation, wrapping around him tight.

"Because you deserve her," I say softly.

He sighs, and I feel it in his chest. I lean up and press a kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to ground us both.

"Don't keep your little lady waiting," I murmur. "I'll send you updates on the mark. I should be home before you two get back."

His arms tighten slightly. I feel him nod.

"I love you," I whisper. "Enjoy your night with her, okay?"

"I love you more. And I will."

He kisses my forehead once, then turns to the car.And I watch them drive off—my husband and our daughter—into a night I know she'll remember for the rest of her life.

Phayu's POV

I drive with one hand on the wheel, Kaia chatting nonstop in the backseat. Her voice is bright, words tumbling over each other as she tells me everything she's thought about since lunch—how she practiced her curtsy, what dessert she hopes we have, how Lily is going to be jealous at school.

I answer everything, ask her questions back—what kind of juice she's in the mood for, if she thinks Rain's tiara placement was better than mine. She says Papa's was better "but Dada's was still cute." I'll take it.

When we pull up in front of the restaurant, I park carefully, get out, and walk around to open her door.

Her little hand reaches for mine before I can even offer it. I lift her gently out of the seat, fix her dress where it bunched at the waist, and straighten her tiara.

She holds my hand like it's a royal decree and We walk in together.

The maître d clocks us instantly. Probably the tattoos first, then the five-year-old in pink satin beside me.

"Good evening, sir," she says smoothly, then bends slightly to look at her. "And good evening to you, young lady. You look very pretty tonight."

Kaia beams. Not even a hint of shyness. She twirls once, bouquet still clutched in her arm like a prized possession.

"I'm on a date with my Dada," she announces proudly.

I bite back a smile as the maître d grins and gestures us forward.

"Right this way, Princess."

She walks beside me like she owns the world. Because tonight? She owns me.

I help her into her chair, steadying her skirt and making sure her tiara's still in place.

"Thank you," she says with a grin that could melt steel.

I chuckle, kiss the top of her head, and take my seat across from her.

The waiter appears with a smile, sets down our menus, and pours water into two glasses. Kaia thanks him without prompting, flashing that same sweet smile.

He melts instantly. "You look very pretty tonight, ma'am"

Kaia preens. "Thank you. I'm on a date with my Dada."

The man throws me a knowing grin before excusing himself.

Everyone we've seen tonight has looked at her the same way—enchanted. And I can't blame them. She's the center of every room she walks into. My daughter. My pride.

She grabs the menu with both hands and opens it like she's about to make stock market moves, pretending to read it the way she's seen me do. I bite back a laugh.

I rattle off a few of her favorites. "You want the mini sliders? Or the pasta? They've got the little grilled cheese bites too..."

Her face scrunches. She wants everything.

Just like Rain.

"Alright," I say with a smirk. "We'll get a bit of everything for the little lady. And a milkshake. Strawberry?"

She nods enthusiastically.

"And I'll take the steak. Medium rare."

The waiter nods, impressed. Probably more by her than by me.

When he walks away, Kaia leans forward with both elbows on the table. "Dada," she whispers like we're trading secrets. "This is the best date ever."

My chest tightens.

It's only been a couple of minutes.

"Mine too, tiger."

I ask her about school—what games they played at recess, who sat next to her during story time, if she shared her snack with anyone, her friends, what subjects she likes. She talks and talks, animated little hands flailing with every memory.

Nothing groundbreaking. Nothing dramatic.But everything feels worth it.

Rain always knows more—he's there for more of the drop-offs, the pick-ups, the quiet hours after school where she curls into his side and spills her entire day. He's the constant. I'm the perimeter.

So I use moments like this to catch up.

By the time the food comes, she's still talking about how Lily accidentally got pudding on her shoe and the whole class screamed like it was the end of the world.

I cut up her sliders into neat bite-sized pieces, wipe her chin when ketchup stains it, refill her water without her asking.

She eats like she's at a royal banquet—careful but excited, murmuring her thank yous every time I reach across the table.

Then, in between bites, she sets down her fork and looks up at me.

"Dada," she says, mouth full of milkshake. "What about your work? Did you build anything cool today?"

I grin. "Work was busy."

"Did you see Isha?" she asks, and the smile stiffens on my face.

I pause. Just a second. Just long enough for it to register.

Rain must not have told her. Or maybe she forgot.

I set down my glass.

"Isha's... gone somewhere far," I say gently. "She's not coming back."

Kaia blinks, quiet now. "Oh."

I nod. "I'll be getting a new assistant soon."

She stirs her milkshake slowly, digesting the information.

"Is she okay?" she asks finally.

"She's not hurting anymore," I say, voice steady. "That's what matters."

She nods once. It's enough.

And just like that, she picks up another piece of her fries, like kids do, like the world hasn't just shifted.

And I watch her, holding it all together the only way I know how.

Rain's POV

After Phi and Kaia leave, the house goes quiet in that particular way it does when she's not around—less warm, more hollow. I don't dwell on it.

I head upstairs, take a long shower to wash off the softness of the afternoon. Strip out of my domestic skin and into something colder.

All white.Pearl buttons. The perfect outfit for a guest who belongs exactly where he's not supposed to be.

Downstairs, Win and Saifah are already in position, eyes on screens, radios set. They'll back me if things go sideways—but they won't.

I'm not just good at this. I am this.

I check the layout one last time. Saifah's already hacked into the party system, slipped a name onto the guest list. High-level, low-visibility. Right where I belong.

I send a quick text to Phi: I'm in. No fluff. He'll understand.

By the time I pull up to the estate, it's all champagne and floodlights. The valet barely glances at me. I smile, step out like I own the night.

Inside, I move easy. I'm polite but not warm, smooth but not familiar. I nod when I need to, laugh once or twice when expected, never too long. Stay on the edges of rooms without blending into the walls. Present but unmemorable.

I avoid the cameras. Clock every exit.

When it's time, I slip deeper into the house. Away from the music. Away from the heat.

Saifah's voice comes through my comms, low and precise.

"Target's heading your way. Right corridor. Alone."

I exhale and Smile.

Game on.

Phayu's POV

Kaia's halfway through explaining the plot of the new animated movie she's going to see with her grandpapa and Sky—something about magic cats and candy clouds—when my phone vibrates once in my pocket.

I don't even need to look.It's him.

I'm in.

I glance down, thumb out a short reply: Be safe. Let me know when it's done.

He will. Rain doesn't miss his marks.But I won't breathe fully until he's home.

I look across the table at my daughter. Her face is flushed from the warmth, lashes long, her little shoulders swaying as she tells me about the movie's trailer and how Sky said the popcorn better be caramel this time or he's walking out.

She's here. Safe. Whole.

Still, she suddenly feels too far.

"Wanna come sit with me, tiger?"

She lights up instantly. "Yes, Dada!"

I rise, walk over, and help her out of her chair. I carry her back to mine, settle her in my lap. She snuggles in.

We go back to our dinner, her hands feeding both of us, her chatter filling the quiet Rain left behind.

And I hold her tighter than before.

Rain's POV

Just as I finally get eyes on the mark—three feet from the hallway where I need him—one of the guests swoops in with champagne and small talk. A kiss on the cheek. Laughing about something irrelevant.

Perfect timing.

I slip out of sight and into the nearest bathroom. Mirror. Stall. Silence.

I pull out my phone to recalibrate, checking locations, watching movements ping. Then it lights up—Phi.

How's it going.I don't text back.I call.

Phayu's POV

Kaia's been eating and drinking like she's preparing for a marathon. I'm not surprised when she shifts in my lap and says, "Dada, I need to pee."

I chuckle and lift her off gently. "Come on, tiger."

I hold her hand as we head toward the restroom. I don't like taking her into the men's, not with all the eyes and open spaces. The ladies' is better—private stalls, more contained.

It's empty when we walk in, thank god. I usher her toward the back stall—then the door opens and two women step in.

Kaia squeals. "Auntie Mae! Auntie Zie!"

She runs straight into their arms and I tense—until she says, "Dada! Lily's moms!"

The names land. We know them. Well. Rain's vetted them. Their kid's a regular feature in Kaia's stories and playdates.

One of the women smiles at me gently. "Would it be alright if we help her? We're just washing up too."

Everything in me says no.

But Kaia turns to me, hands on her hips. "Dada, we need privacy."

I clear my throat. "Okay, baby. Just shout if you need me. I'll be right outside."

She grins and shoos me out like I'm the child.

I step into the hall, close the door behind me, and pull out my phone. Quick fingers. How's it going.

My screen lights up.Rain is calling.

Rain's POV

"Hi beautiful."

His voice is low, warm, like a tether around my spine.

"Hi, Phi," I murmur, leaning against the tiled wall. "How's it going?"

He chuckles. "Perfect. She's in the bathroom with Lily's moms."

I raise a brow. "Oh? They're at the same restaurant?"

"Apparently," he says. I can hear the amusement in his voice. "They ambushed her mid-waddle. She's happy though."

I hum. "That's nice. I'm in the bathroom too. My mark's still caught up with someone—trying to bide time before I slip in clean."

We talk a bit—nothing important, just his voice, just mine.

Then I hear Kaia's voice faintly in the background, followed by Phi's low, affectionate: "She's back. Let me know when it's done, alright? Love you."

"Love you," I reply. "Kiss Kaia for me."

"I will."

The line goes quiet.And just like that, the world steadies again.

Phayu's POV

I crouch as soon as the door opens and she steps out, little shoes tapping on the tile, tiara still in place.

"Hi, tiger. You done?"

She nods proudly. "And I washed my hands too."

I smile and kiss her forehead. "Good girl."

Lily's moms step out right behind her, warm smiles on both their faces.

"Thank you," I say sincerely.

They wave it off. "It's no trouble. We've never actually met you before—just Khun Rain. He's always the one at drop-offs and parties."

I nod. "Yeah. He's the friendly one."

They laugh.

One of them leans in slightly. "Kaia's a sweetheart. Always so polite. And such a good friend to Lily. Talks about her all the time."

That tightness in my chest eases just a little.

"She's lucky to have her," I say.

"Goes both ways," they reply, and then we exchange brief goodbyes.

I hold Kaia's hand as we head back toward our table, her steps skipping beside mine.

Rain's POV

I step out of the bathroom smooth and slow, white shirt pristine, not a wrinkle out of place. The hallway's clear.

"P'Saifah," I murmur into the mic, "where's the mark?"

His voice crackles softly through the earpiece. "Study. He's on a call."

Perfect.

I make my way down the corridor, each footfall silent against polished floors. The security is all focused on the celebration downstairs—music, laughter, champagne. None of it reaches this wing. I slip into the study like smoke.

He's standing near the window, still on the call, laughing. He turns, and the moment he sees me, the sound dies in his throat. His hand freezes around the phone. I tilt my head and smile.

"Va–Varain," he breathes.

"Long time," I say, shutting the door behind me. The lock clicks. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't be dumb enough to show your face again."

He swallows, hard.

"Drop the phone."

His eyes flick to it, then to me. He hesitates.

"Don't," I warn. "Don't think about calling for help."

He opens his mouth, probably to do exactly that—so I pull my gun from under my jacket. No theatrics. No words. Just the metal glinting in my hand.

He freezes. Drops the phone.

"Good." I walk toward him, calm and deliberate. "Before you scream, think very carefully. About your wife. About your son—the groom. About the rest of your bloodline gathered downstairs in their finest suits. Think about what it would look like if I made a mess."

He pales.

"Sit."

He obeys.

I circle the desk slowly, fingers brushing the polished wood, then lean against it—casual enough to look like I'm giving him space, but just close enough to let him feel the leash tightening.

"Venice tries," I begin, voice calm, "as much as possible to keep Storm Corp clean. Separate from the underworld. Civil. Controlled."

His breathing hitches. I watch his hands—how tightly they grip the armrests.

"But you?" I tilt my head. "You've made that harder."

His lips part. I don't let him speak.

"You were moving shipments through trade routes that weren't yours. Violating accords you didn't help build. And when it was time for the Chiang Rai mall groundbreaking—there were bodies."

I let the weight of that settle like a noose around his neck.

"Not rumors. Not speculation. Corpses. Your routes. Your mess."

He tries to look away. I don't let him.

"Your name came up," I say, voice dropping, "and now I'm here."

I take the silencer out of my coat and screw it on my gun.

"So talk."

Phayu's POV

Dinner winds down with Kaia curled in my lap, small and warm and content. I'm feeding her spoonfuls of vanilla ice cream drizzled with caramel—the chef's personal gift. He came out mid-course to meet the "lovely little lady" he'd heard about and offered to make her something special.

She beamed at him like he was royalty.

Now she's sated, fingers sticky, curls soft against my throat. I kiss the top of her head, murmuring into her hair, "Sleepy, tiger? It's past your bedtime."

She grins, eyes still bright. "I get to stay up late tonight, Dada."

I chuckle. Rain's the schedule king—seven-thirty bath, eight o'clock lights out. So this is a rebellion. A sweet one.

"Did you have fun?" I ask.

She nods vigorously. "So much! Are we gonna do another date like this?"

"Of course, baby," I say, smoothing a hand down her back. "Anytime you want. It's a date."

She hugs me tight, cheek pressed to my chest.

My phone buzzes. It's Rain: All done. She still awake?

I smile, reply quick: Barely.

I lower my voice, pressing a kiss to Kaia's cheek. "Time to go, baby. I think Papa misses us."

She hums sleepily. "I miss Papa too."

...

I'm carrying Kaia out of the restaurant, her arms looped lazily around my neck, her tiara tilting slightly as she waves goodbye to Lily's moms. They smile, warm and familiar, and I nod back with genuine thanks. They've earned that.

Then someone else—standing beside them, too polished, too interested—tilts her head and says, a bit too loudly,"Oh—you're the CEO of Stormline? I love your firm."

My jaw tightens.

I don't want to stop walking. I'm not in the mood. Civility isn't free. And I've given out all I had to offer tonight.

But she pushes ahead anyway, moving into my path with that glint in her eye I know too well. Opportunistic. The type who thinks proximity to power is an invitation.

"You're even more handsome up close," she adds, like it's a compliment, like I haven't heard it a thousand times in a thousand boardrooms from women who mistake ruthlessness for charm. "Is this your daughter?"

Before I can shut it down, one of Lily's moms steps in—merciful. "Yeah, Kaia and Lily go to the same school."

The woman's eyes flick between me and Kaia again, too bold.

I shift Kaia higher in my arms and say nothing. Not a smile. Not a nod.

Because this woman is not worth the breath it would take to remind her: I don't owe the world my face, my name, or my patience. Not when I've got my daughter in my arms and my husband waiting at home.

She laughs—sharp and grating—like we're sharing a joke. "Such a small world," she says. "I've actually been meaning to come over to your firm. I have some projects I'd like to contract Stormline for."

I school my face, nod once. Cordial. "You can contact the firm. My team will attend to you."

Most people take the hint. She doesn't.She steps closer, her tone lighter, flirty. "Oh, all that just to get to the CEO? But I'm standing right in front of him—and my friends even know you. Why don't we skip the red tape? Dinner sometime?"

Her hand brushes my elbow.

Before I can shut it down, Kaia straightens in my arms, her voice sharp:"Don't touch my Dada."

The air shifts.

I meet the woman's eyes now, cold and level. "Your friends know my husband, not me."

My tone is ice. Final.

I turn to Lily's moms, give them a short nod—the only ones who'll leave this moment with any grace.

And then I walk away without looking back.

Because the second you make my daughter speak up, you've already crossed a line you don't get to recover from.

We're standing at the curb while the valet brings the car around, the night air a little cooler now, quieter. Kaia's nestled against me, arms still looped around my neck, her tiara slightly crooked from all the movement.

I press a kiss into her curls. "You okay, baby?"

She nods, then tilts her head up at me, eyes wide and serious. "I'm sorry for being rude, Dada. I don't like that lady."

That pulls a laugh from me, quiet and real. I bop her nose gently. "It's okay, baby. I don't like her too."

She grins, the tension melting off her shoulders.

"Let's go home," I murmur, tightening my hold on her, "snuggle in with Papa, yeah?"

She nods, resting her cheek against my chest. "Yeah. I missed him."

Me too, tiger.Every minute.

By the time I pull into the estate, the sky's gone dark and Kaia's out cold in the back seat, her tiara askew, clutching the little bouquet I gave her like it's treasure. I kill the engine and step out. The men on shift nod in greeting, subtle and silent. I nod back.

I circle to Kaia's side, open the door carefully and lift her into my arms. She stirs, but only to bury her face in my shoulder.

Win spots us from the porch and opens his mouth—probably to say something loud and unnecessary. I shoot him a look. He shuts it immediately.

Saifah just smirks, stepping aside. "Good night?."

I nod. "All clear on Arpon?"

"Yeah," Saifah says. "Rain was in and out. Clean. We were home before anyone upstairs even noticed the groom's father had dropped dead."

I grunt approval, and we exchange a few quiet goodnights as Kaia mumbles softly against my collar.

Rain's just coming down the stairs barefoot in a loose white shirt, casual like he didn't end a man an hour ago. He sees us and smiles, warm and real, and meets us halfway.

I lean in and kiss him—long, slow, grounding. I missed this. Missed him.

"She was good?" he murmurs against my lips.

"She was perfect," I say.

And she was.

He steps forward, hands out to take her, but I shake my head. I'm not ready to let go of the night just yet. He understands and falls into step beside me as we head upstairs.

"Okay if she sleeps in her room tonight?" I ask quietly, glancing at him.

His eyes flick to Kaia where she's asleep in my arms, curls tangled against my chest. I see the hesitation flash across his face. Ever since the kidnapping, she's been curled between us every night—not just for her comfort, but ours.

Rain hasn't said it, but I know he wakes up more often now, checks the cameras, keeps a blade by the bed.

Still, he nods. "Okay."

I carry her into her room. Rain follows, slipping into her closet to grab her nightwear while I kneel beside her bed and gently set her down. She stirs, just barely.

Rain comes back with the gown, but doesn't say anything. Just watches. Watches as I take off her tiara first, then her shoes and socks. Her dress comes off next, careful not to wake her. I pull the soft nightgown over her head, and she settles again.

He hands me baby wipes. I clean the glitter from her cheeks, the last smudge of chocolate from her fingers. Then I tuck her in, press a kiss to her forehead, and whisper the same words I've said every night since she was old enough to understand them.

"You're safe. You're loved. You're mine."

Rain's hand brushes my back. We stand in silence for a moment, just watching her breathe.

Then we leave, quiet and together, and walk back to our room.

Rain's POV

The bedroom door clicks shut behind us and I step into his arms. He holds me, silent and steady, one hand dragging slow over my back while I breathe him in.

I lean up and kiss his jaw. "Had fun?"

His laugh rumbles through his chest. "Yeah. My daughter's the sweetest five-year-old in the world."

I huff a soft laugh, pull back just enough to look at him. "Obviously."

We head into the closet together. He starts stripping off the night, methodical as always. I talk—something about the mark, the timing, what went right—but it's half-hearted.

He pulls the band from his hair and it falls loose over his shoulders, that glossy, pitch-dark curtain I've never quite stopped wanting to get lost in.

He kicks off his shoes. Unbuckles his watch. Loosens his belt.

And I trail off.

He untucks his shirt and opens it, one button at a time, until his chest is bare. The tattoos catch under the low lighting, ink curling down ribs I've kissed a thousand times. I don't even realize I've gone quiet until he glances over, smirking.

"You were saying?"

I blink, clear my throat. "Yeah, sorry—I was just—"

He unzips his pants, slides them down, and steps out of them in one smooth motion. Just him now, in tight black briefs and nothing else. I can see the outline of him straining underneath, thick and hard.

My words die completely.

He chuckles. Knows exactly what he's doing. And he doesn't stop.

"Soon as you showed me his updates, I was pissed. Slippery bastard's been in hiding for months—only crawled out for this damn wedding." He says.

But I'm not hearing a word. I'm too busy staring. At the way his body moves, at the curve of his waist, the ink curling down his side. At my husband, who somehow looks more dangerous half-naked than most men do armed.

And the worst part? My body—sore, ruined from this morning—still reacts. Still wants. Still burns.

He walks into my space without hesitation, tilts my chin up. My hands come up to circle his waist on instinct, palms splayed over his bare skin. He leans down, voice a whisper against my lips.

"Shower with me?"

I swallow. It would be so easy to say yes.

But I know him. I know exactly what that'll lead to.

So I roll my eyes and force out, "No. I'll keep you company, but I'm not getting in."

He smirks like I've just issued a challenge.

And then he drops his briefs.

I freeze. Swallow again. Hard.

Fuck.

He walks backward toward the bathroom, cocky and smug, the kind of smirk that says he's already won. "It's just to shower, baby."

Liar.

I follow anyway—helpless, like I always am with him—muttering under my breath, "It won't just be a shower and you know it."

He drags his tongue across his teeth, bites his lip, eyes burning. "I can be gentle, though."

And just like that, my skin prickles. He's the worst kind of temptation—dangerous, devastating, and the only man I'll ever let break me. Because even when he's unfair, I still end up begging for more.

I glance down his body—broad chest, tight stomach, cock already half-hard—and yeah, fuck it.

I tear off my shirt, shimmy out of my shorts, and follow him in.

He grins like he knew all along. "Thought so."

The shower starts off harmless. Innocent, even.

I already had one after the job, but somehow I'm here again, soaked and naked under the spray because I let him look at me the way he does. Let him talk me into things I pretend to resist.

I try to focus—on the task, not the man. I lather the soap and run my hands over his shoulders, down his arms, over the curve of his back. I don't linger, not on purpose. But his body's unfair—cut and warm and wet beneath my hands—and the longer I touch him, the harder it is to pretend I'm unaffected.

I glance up. His eyes are already on me. Dark. Intense. Starving.

His hands slide to my waist, tugging me close until I feel it—his cock, thick and hard, pressing into my stomach.

He leans in, kisses my cheek, then lower, to my jaw. I close my eyes and exhale.

"Phi—"

He chuckles against my throat. "What, baby? I'm just kissing you." A beat. "Don't stop washing me."

I swallow hard and drag my hands down his back again, trying to remember how to breathe as he ghosts soft kisses across my skin. Lips on my cheek. Jaw. Neck.

I bring my hands back to his front, over the ridges of his chest, the hard lines of his abs. I skip over the heat between us, but he doesn't miss a beat. His breath stirs against my neck, and I know he's already got me.

He leans in, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. "You're burning, baby... and you're hard."

I grit my teeth. "I can ignore it."

He chuckles, low and amused. "You're married. With a virile husband. That's not appropriate. What do you want people to say?"

I shoot him a glare. "I'm not discussing my hard-on with people, Phi."

That makes him laugh—deep, pleased with himself. He licks a slow stripe up my neck, voice all teasing heat. "You only washed the top half. What about the bottom half?"

I stare at him. Then at his smug, gorgeous face.

Then I drop to my knees.

His smirk spreads wider as he hands me the body wash like he's handing me a weapon. Like he already knows I'll use it against myself.

I lather the soap slowly, deliberately, water cascading over him while I kneel just outside the spray. He's shielding me from the stream—towering, solid, his cock right at eye level, hard and glistening.

I don't look at it.

I focus on his thighs, his calves, dragging my hands down the thick lines of muscle, rinsing the suds off slowly. I keep my head down, concentrate, breathe through it. Five minutes. Maybe less. I'm winning.

Until he wraps a hand around himself.

I pause.

He strokes once, slow. Precise. And when I finally glance up, he's watching me with heat burning behind his lashes.

"You haven't washed this, baby."

My mouth goes dry. Then it waters.

And I know I've already lost.

My hands slide up to his abs, working the lather in, but before I can drag them lower, he tuts.

I pause, glance up.

He's looking down at me with that infuriating, knowing grin.

"Use your mouth."

My glare is instant. He only grins wider.

Then he grabs his cock and drags the tip across my cheek, slow, obscene. The heat of him, the weight of it—my breath stutters.

"Clean it, baby," he says, voice dark and low. "Thoroughly."

I tilt my head, defiant. "What if I don't? I only came in here for a shower."

He looks down at me like I'm amusing, like he already knows how this ends. Water trailing down his chest, jaw sharp, hair wet and pushed back—he looks untouchable. Divine. Just this morning, he was on his knees for me in his office. Now I'm the one on mine.

He smirks, cock still in his grip. "You want to."

And I do. I hate how much I do.

So I wrap my hand around him, stroking slow and precise. "You're lucky I love your cock more than I love you."

His grin turns wolfish. "Open wide, baby."