Chapter 20

RAIN'S POV

I had just bathed Kaia and settled her into bed after we baked cookies.

Her hair still smells like strawberry shampoo and warm sugar. She'd been soft and sleepy by the end of it, cheeks pink from the oven, fingers sticky with dough no matter how many times I wiped them clean.

I kissed her forehead, tucked the blanket around her, and stayed there a little longer than I meant to, one hand stroking over her curls while she drifted off.

Then Phi's message came through.

I read it once.

Then again.

And sigh.

There goes my quiet night.

Of course.

I lean down and kiss Kaia's head gently, careful not to wake her, then slowly extricate myself from the bed. She makes a small sound, turns into her pillow, and settles again. Good.

I slip out of her room and head straight to ours.

The house is quiet in that late-night way it only ever is when Kaia's asleep and Phi's out. Staff move softer. Lights dim lower. Even the walls feel like they're listening. I go into my closet and start getting ready with the kind of efficiency that only comes when I already know exactly what kind of night I'm walking into.

Something fitted that I could move in and won't get in my way if I need to break someone's face.

I strip fast, trade soft home clothes for war clothes, then come the weapons.

Knife first.

Then another.

Guns at my back.

Small blade at my thigh and wrist.

One in my boot because Phi gets ridiculous when I don't take enough steel with me.

I catch my reflection once as I fasten the last strap.

Blonde hair falling over one shoulder.

Face calm.

White nowhere in sight tonight.

Shame.

I know Phi likes it when I show up looking like sin wrapped in silk and bloodstains waiting to happen.

I just hope we get back before Kaia wakes.

Though knowing my husband, that's probably not happening.

If he texted me like that, it means he's already smiling in the middle of violence. Which means whatever mess he walked into, he has every intention of dragging me into it with him and pretending that counts as quality time.

I head downstairs and out toward the garage.

The air outside is warm, heavy, carrying the scent of fuel and night flowers from the edge of the grounds. Security straightens when they see me, but nobody says anything. Nobody's stupid enough.

Inside the garage, rows of cars gleam under the lights.

I need something fast to get me there on time and also loud enough to announce me before I even step out.

So I choose his black Ferrari.

I'll ride back on his bike with him anyway.

That thought is enough to make my mouth curve a little as I slide into the driver's seat. The leather still smells faintly like him—that dark edge that clings to everything he touches. I start the car and the engine answers with a vicious growl that settles something mean and eager in my chest.

Sweet.

I pull out of the estate fast.

The road opens in front of me in streaks of dark and gold, the city lights sharpening as I get closer to his side of the world. I keep one hand on the wheel, the other close, eyes flicking between the road and the location he sent me.

A part of me is irritated.

A bigger part of me is already awake in the way only Phi can wake me.

He knows exactly what he's doing when he sends a text like that. Knows I'll sigh, roll my eyes, and then arm myself like the end of the world is starting without me.

Because he also knows this: if he's in a fight, I want to be there.

If someone's stupid enough to come for what's ours, I want a front row seat when they regret it.

PHAYU'S POV

The first punch lands from our side so fast it's almost graceful. Then bodies collide, guns are drawn, someone shouts, a bottle breaks somewhere to my right, and the whole track turns into violence.

Win is already in it, laughing like a lunatic as he drops one man and swings into another.

Saifah moves quieter, cleaner, brutal in that subtle way of his that wastes nothing.

And me?

I go straight for Chanin.

He reaches for a weapon.

Too slow.

I catch his wrist, twist hard, hear him curse, and drive him back into the hood of one of the SUVs. The impact dents metal. He tries to recover, knee coming up, but I block it, slam my forearm into his throat, and pin him there.

"You should've stayed in your lane," I tell him.

He bares his teeth. "You think you scare me?"

I smile.

Then punch him.

Once.

Hard enough that his head snaps sideways and blood sprays out of his nose and mouth

Around us the fight keeps raging—boots on concrete, engines revving, men yelling, gunshots, pain in the air—but I hear my phone buzz again in my pocket.

Rain.

Of course.

I almost laugh.

Chanin takes that second to shove hard against me. I let him think it works. Let him stumble free two steps before I catch him again and drive him into the side mirror so hard the glass shatters.

He makes a broken sound this time.

Better.

I grab him by the collar and lean in close.

"You picked the wrong night," I say quietly. "I was already in a bad mood about leaving my family."

His breath is ragged now, fear finally finding him where arrogance used to live.

Good.

That's when I hear it—the familiar growl of another engine cutting into the chaos from the far side.

Different from the others.

Mine.

Rain.

My head turns before I can help it.

And there he is...Walking into my war like it's a private party he was invited to.

Beautiful.

Calm.

Deadly.

I smile, blood on my knuckles, Chanin half-conscious in my grip, and think only one thing:

Now this feels right.

RAIN'S POV

By the time I near the tracks, I can hear it before I see it.

Engines.

Music.

Gunshots.

Shouting.

The sound of a crowd shifting around violence.

I smile.

The tracks are chaos when I arrive. Men everywhere, some trying to get out of the way, some stupid enough to move toward the center like spectators at a show they forgot can touch them too.

I don't slow down much, just enough to keep from killing one of Phi's own men as I swing the Ferrari hard into the open space near the track.

Heads turn instantly.

Floodlights glance off black paint.

The engine snarls one last time before I cut it.

For one beat, everything around me seems to sharpen.

Then I step out.

And there he is....My husband.

In the middle of the concrete with blood on his knuckles and violence all around him, one hand fisted in some poor idiot's collar like he hasn't decided yet whether to kill him or keep talking.

Phi sees me the second I straighten.

That look crosses his face immediately—that dark, vicious satisfaction that only ever belongs to me. Like the night just improved.

I shut the car door slowly and start walking.

A man moves into my path.

Not one of ours.

Wrong face. Wrong stance. Wrong amount of confidence.

He reaches for me like he thinks I'm decoration.

I don't break stride, I pull the knife from my thigh and drive it clean through the back of his hand into the hood of the car beside him before he can even finish the motion.

He screams.

I lean in just long enough to smile at him like I'm scolding Kaia.

"Bad choice."

Then I leave him there and keep going.

The crowd parts for me now.

Much smarter.

Win spots me first from Phi's right and actually starts laughing, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"There he is."

Saifah glances over too, calmer but no less pleased. "Took you long enough."

"Kaia had cookies," I say, like that explains everything.

By the time I reach Phi, the man in his grip looks half-conscious and fully terrified. Phi's eyes drag over me once—head to toe, assessing, approving, possessive.

"You wore dark," he says.

I lift a brow. "You invited me to break a few bones."

His mouth twitches then he yanks the man a little higher and says, almost proud, like he's making an introduction "Chanin."

I look at the idiot properly.

Blood at his mouth, fear in his eyes, expensive clothes ruined.

Not enough.

"So this is the mouse," I murmur.

Chanin tries to straighten what's left of his dignity. "You brought your husband?"

I blink at him.

Then look at Phi.

Then back at the fool.

"Brought?" I repeat softly. "Oh, sweetheart. He summoned me."

Phi actually laughs at that, low and mean.

Chanin doesn't get the chance to answer because I step in and hit him hard enough across the face to snap his head sideways.

He sags a little in Phi's grip.

I tilt my head. "That was for ruining my night."

Then I pull my knife free from the next poor bastard's hand as one of Phi's men drags him away screaming in the background and turn the blade once in my fingers.

"What did he do?" I ask Phi.

Phi's hand slides briefly to my lower back. Possessive. Claiming me even here.

"Sniffed around the tracks. Our shipments. Our city."

I nod once.

I smile sweetly at Chanin. "Does the slow gene run in your family? Because your uncle wasn't even this stupid before I threw a blade in his eye."

Chanin growls and tries to lunge but Phi drags him back with his hair.

Behind us, the fight is thinning now. Our side has the upper hand. Obviously. Win and Saifah are directing cleanup more than participating at this point, though Win still looks annoyed he doesn't have a fresh face to punch.

I look around once, then back at Phi.

"You said bones," I remind him.

His eyes darken. "You want one?" and he nods to the idiot wiggling in his arms.

I step closer to Chanin, close enough that he flinches before I even touch him.

That makes me smile.

I take his hand.

He actually looks relieved for half a second.

Then I bend his wrist back until it snaps.

His scream cuts through the track.

I sigh softly. "There."

Phi's grin goes outright wicked now.

"Feel better?"

"A little."

I let the hand drop and look up at my husband. "What's the plan?"

He leans in, blood, smoke, and night clinging to him, and murmurs near my ear,

"The plan was to finish this and go home."

My stomach flips a little because that's him. Always that. Family, violence, me, then home.

I smile and glance at his bike waiting near the pit.

"Good," I whisper back. "Because I drove your Ferrari here and I'm riding back with you."

That gets his full attention.

"You took my car?"

"You invited me to a brawl, Phi. Don't be ungrateful."

Win, somewhere behind us, groans. "Please kill him fast so you two can stop flirting over a hostage."

That makes me laugh but Phi doesn't look away from me.

Then, calm again, he looks at Chanin and says, "You hear that? My husband is tired."

And just like that, whatever mercy was left in the night is gone.

+++++++

Chanin's enforcement reaches the track and after that, it's all gunshots and knives and screaming metal.

Fast.

Ugly.

The kind of violence that swallows everything else whole.

By the time the night finally starts dying down, Phi is covered in blood.

Not me though.

I've got dust on my shoes, one streak of grime at my wrist, maybe a little splatter at the hem if I really look for it—but nothing that counts, I opted to just shoot the idiots instead.

No broken bones on us, no real damage. Can't say the same for Chanin and his men.

They're all dead.

Every single one—well except one.

Saifah gets a call, answers it with blood on his knuckles and that same terrifying calm he always has, then looks over at us.

"All done."

Phi nods once.

And because one of Chanin's idiots is still squirming under my boot, wetly gasping like he thinks there's still some miracle left in the night for him, I lift my gun and put a bullet in him.

Silence.

Finally.

Real silence.

No more yelling, no more engines revving. Just the low hum of floodlights, the smell of blood and smoke and hot concrete, and the beginning of cleanup moving around us.

The track is going to bleed money tonight.

I know that.

Phi knows that.

He'll sort it out.

He sits on the hood of the car like the whole night hasn't just gone feral, one knee bent, blood streaked all over his face and throat like war somehow only made him look more like himself. Then he hooks a hand around my waist and drags me closer until I'm standing between his knees.

"Hi, beautiful."

I take one look at him and shove at his shoulder. "You reek of cigarettes."

He just grins.

"In my defense, I didn't think you'd have to come here and find out."

I roll my eyes and refuse to kiss him.

Absolutely refuse.

He is not putting that smell in my mouth.

Then the idiot actually reaches for a bottle of vodka sitting nearby, twists it open, rinses his mouth out with it, spits to the side, then leans in again like that fixes everything.

"You like vodka." He wisely points out.

God how is this the father of my child?

I snort and turn away from him.

Behind us, Saifah and Win are already giving orders, voices sharp and efficient as the bodies start disappearing and the floor starts getting washed down. Men drag corpses. Others deal with the wrecked cars. Somewhere a hose starts running.

The machine turns back on while Phi apparently decides we're done here.

He's already tugging me away.

Toward the abandoned cars off track where it's darker, quieter, out of the direct lights.

I know that walk.

I know that look.

And sure enough, by the time we're half-hidden in the shadows, he's visibly adjusting his hard-on.

Of course.

I stare at him.

Honestly.

This man...

"Think I can fuck you before we have to leave?" he asks like that's a perfectly normal thing to say with blood still drying on his jaw.

I roll my eyes and just sigh. This is really my life.

He gets extra horny when we shed blood together. Always has. Something about me showing up armed and deadly and standing beside him while the world burns makes his brain rot straight through.

"Whatever," I mutter. "But I'm not kissing you."

He laughs under his breath and pins me lightly against the side of one of the abandoned cars, one arm braced by my head, all heat and smoke and blood and arrogance.

"Cruel."

"You smell like cigarettes and terrible decisions."

His grin only gets worse.

I hate him.

I love him.

I look at his face properly then, at the blood smeared over his cheekbone, the split at his knuckle, the sweat drying at his throat, and something in me softens despite myself.

He looks wrecked.

Alive.

Mine.

My hand comes up before I really think about it, thumb brushing once under his eye, careful not to spread the blood further.

"You look insane."

"I am insane."

"That's not charming."

"You married me."

Fair.

His hand slides up the side of my neck, warm and possessive, and for one second the whole track seems to drop away. The cleanup. The bodies. Win yelling at someone in the distance. All of it.

Just us.

Just the aftermath.

Just the way his eyes drag over me like he still can't believe I came.

"And next time," I murmur, "try inviting me somewhere with less gunfire."

His forehead drops to mine. "No promises."

I huff a laugh.

Then he tries to angle in again, mouth near mine, and I plant a hand on his chest immediately.

"No."

"Rain."

"No."

"I rinsed."

"With vodka."

"You like vodka."

"That is not the point."

He actually pouts.

Pouts.

Blood-soaked, terrifying, half-hard in the dark after overseeing a massacre—and he pouts at me like I'm being unreasonable.

I stare at him in disbelief. "You are unbelievable."

"And yet," he murmurs, hands already sliding down to my waist, "you're about to let me bend you over."

I am.

Unfortunately.

I lean back against the cold metal of the car and let my fingers curl into his shirt instead, just enough to steady him, just enough to pull him closer without giving him what he wants.

Not the kiss.

From the track, I hear Win shout, "Please tell me you two are not making this weird next to the corpses."

I close my eyes.

Phi doesn't even glance back. "Twenty minutes," he calls.

Win makes a sound like he regrets being born.

I laugh softly and look back at my husband.

His eyes are black with it now. Need. Adrenaline. The last edge of violence still burning hot in his system.

And because I know him—really know him—I know this isn't just about being turned on.

It's relief too.

It's him seeing me alive, unhurt, beside him in the middle of something ugly and needing to put his hands on me just to prove I'm real.

So I touch his face again, gentler this time.

He presses one kiss—dry, frustrating, unapproved—to my jaw instead, and I let him have that much.

Then I whisper, "Fuck me then"

He grins, smug and licks my neck. "Oh I will, and you're gonna regret keeping your mouth from me"

I smirk "We'll see"

We're just about getting into it, his hands already at my belt, fumbling with the buckle like patience has fully abandoned him.

He groans against my neck, voice rough and amused all at once. "Hope you don't have any more knives in here that can cut me."

I open my mouth to answer—when Saifah's voice cuts across the dark.

"Cops. ETA Ten minutes."

Phi groans straight into my skin. "Ah, fuck."

I laugh before I can stop myself, because of course. Of course this is how our night goes.

One second he's trying to drag me apart against a dead car after a massacre, the next we're both hustling like teenagers caught making out behind the school gym.

He pulls back, annoyed, breathing hard, then grabs my wrist and drags me after him.

"Come on."

We move fast across the track.

Around us, everybody's already shifting gears. Bodies disappearing, lights changing, cars moving, blood getting washed down. The whole place folding in on itself like it was never anything but noise and bad choices.

Phi takes me straight to his bike.

I barely get a hand on him before he's lifting me, settling me onto it with that easy strength of his that still catches me off guard even after all these years. He grabs my helmet, fits it over my head, checks the strap himself, then pulls his own on and swings onto the bike in front of me.

Even now.

Even bloodied and irritated and half-hard and trying to outrun police.

He still makes sure my helmet is on properly first.

I wrap my arms around his waist automatically.

He makes one quick sign toward Saifah and Win.I know what it means without hearing it said. They'll clear the rest. Someone will drive my car back home. The track will vanish before the police get close enough to smell what happened here.

Then Phi guns the engine.

The bike roars beneath us and we shoot out of the track, into the night, into wind and speed and darkness.

And fuck.

I love this.

I love being on his bike.

Love the way the city blurs when he rides like this, like the road belongs to him and always has. Love the heat of him in front of me, solid and steady, every line of his body familiar under my hands. It's been a while since we've done this properly—just ridden with nowhere urgent except home.

Or not home.

Not yet.

We tear through the edge of the city, lights flashing by in streaks, the air colder now that we've left the heat of the track behind. My cheek brushes the back of his shoulder once as I hold tighter, my whole body loosening by degrees.

The adrenaline is still there.

But this—this is the comedown I like.

His speed.

His back against my chest.

The world too far behind us to matter for a minute.

So I lean closer and call out over the engine, "Phi! Can we ride a little before we go home?"

He glances back just enough that I catch the curve of his mouth under the helmet.

Then he nods.

And that's it.

That's all I need.

I tighten my arms around my husband and let the night take us wherever it wants.

We leave the main roads first.

Take the longer route.

The prettier one.

Through the sleeping stretches of the city where streetlights pool gold over empty roads, then farther out where the air opens and the noise thins and all I can hear is the engine and the wind and my own breathing inside the helmet.

Phi doesn't rush now, he still rides fast, because he's Phi and slowing down has never been natural to him, but it's different.

Smoother.... looser, like he knows I asked for this because I need it as much as he does.

Just us.

I rest my head lightly between his shoulders and close my eyes for a second, not enough to lose the road, just enough to feel it fully—the rhythm of the bike, the warmth of him, the promise of home waiting for us at the end of all this.

My husband came for war.

And still, he rides like this when I ask.

That does something terrible and tender to me every time.

After a while he lifts one hand briefly from the handle and taps my wrist where it's wrapped around him, a silent question.

You okay?

I squeeze him once.

Yes.

Always, with you.

He understands, he always does.

So we keep going...

Past the city limits and back in. Past shuttered storefronts, quiet temples, empty intersections, the whole world hushed around us like it knows better than to interrupt.

And somewhere in the middle of all that dark and motion and leftover violence, my taste for blood burns off completely.

What's left is just him.

Just my husband.

Still smelling faintly of smoke and blood and vodka and trouble.

Still the only person in the world I would leave a warm bed and a sleeping child for at a text like that.

Eventually he slows near the overlook above the city, the one we used to stop at more often before life got busier and heavier and more complicated. He pulls the bike over and kills the engine.

The silence after is immense. I climb off after him, pulling the helmet off and shaking my hair back. The wind up here is cooler, cleaner. Bangkok glows below us, all light and distance and secrets.

Phi takes off his helmet too.

He still looks wrecked.

Still beautiful.

Still blood streaked enough that I immediately point at him and say, "You're still not kissing me."

He huffs a laugh, stepping closer anyway. "You're obsessed with that."

"You smell like Kaia's monster feet."

That makes him grin.

Then he reaches for me, slower this time, hands settling at my waist without trying to rush me anywhere. Just holding me there in the wind with the city spread below us.

"You better now?" he asks quietly.

I glance out at the view, then back at him.

"At the moment?"

His thumb strokes once against my side.

"At the moment."

I smile a little.

"Yeah."

And for a second neither of us says anything else.

We just stand there.

Breathing.

Cooling off.

Coming back down.

Somewhere at home our daughter is asleep in the bed we'll crawl back into before dawn. Somewhere behind us, Saifah and Win are handling the mess we left behind. Somewhere ahead, morning will come and we'll both act like tonight was just another night.

But right here—right now—it's only us.

Phi leans down like he's about to kiss me, catches himself at the last second, and diverts to my forehead instead.

Smart man.

I smile against his chest. "Better."

He sighs. "Cruel."

Then he tips his head toward the bike. "Come on, beautiful. Let's go home before Kaia wakes up and asks where we disappeared to."

I laugh softly.

As if we'd ever have a good answer for that.

*******************************

The next day...

Rain's POV

I'm sitting on one of the tall stools by the counter at Sky's bakery while Kaia absolutely destroys the place in the best way possible.

Sky closed the shop for renovations this weekend, but the moment Kaia heard about it he opened the doors anyway—just for us. He said something about "quality control testing for the next generation of bakers," but really he just wanted to spoil her.

And she is thriving.

She's wearing the little apron Sky made for her—white, completely bedazzled with tiny crystals spelling Chef Kaia across the front—and a ridiculously tall chef hat that keeps slipping over her curls.

Her cheeks are dusted with flour, there's sugar all over the counter, and she's currently stirring something in a mixing bowl with the seriousness of a Michelin-star chef.

Except she's also licking the spoon every thirty seconds.

"Kaia," Sky says patiently from beside her, wiping flour off the counter for the fourth time. "If you eat all the batter there won't be any cookies."

She gasps like he's accused her of a crime. "There will too! Papa says sharing is caring."

I snort into my coffee.

Sky raises an eyebrow at me. "Your child is weaponizing philosophy."

"She learned from the best," I say lazily.

Kaia turns around proudly, flour handprints on the front of her apron. "Papa look! I'm baking!"

"You're doing an amazing job, Princess," I tell her.

She beams, then promptly dumps an entire cup of chocolate chips into the bowl like she's funding a small chocolate economy.

Sky groans softly.

I just laugh, watching her twirl around in the oversized hat, sugar flying everywhere, happier than I've ever seen her.

And honestly?

The bakery has never looked better.

Sky leans his hip against the counter, watching Kaia mix in more toppings into the bowl like she's fueling a small bakery empire.

"Your husband behaving?" he asks casually.

I snort into my coffee and roll my eyes. "When does he ever? He tried to mhm mhm me yesterday to get out of going on Kaia's shopping trip."

Sky raises a brow. "Did he now?"

I wave a hand. "I shut it down real fast."

Kaia suddenly snorts, shoulders shaking, and bursts into giggles.

Sky and I both look at her.

"What's funny, Chef Kaia?" he asks.

She tries to look innocent, flour all over her nose. "Papa said mhm mhm."

Sky immediately loses it, laughing hard he has to grab the counter.

I groan. "See? This is why we censor ourselves."

Kaia proudly stirs the batter again. "Dada says mhm mhm too sometimes."

Sky chokes on air. "Oh my god."

I bury my face in my hands. "We are raising a tiny menace."

Kaia looks up at me, wooden spoon in hand, chef hat sliding over one eye. "Papa... what is mhm mhm?"

Sky freezes mid-laugh and slowly turns to me like this is my mess to clean up.

I clear my throat. "It's... grown-up talk."

She blinks. "Like taxes?"

Sky coughs into his apron to hide a laugh.

"Yes," I say quickly. "Exactly like taxes. Very boring. Very adult. Not for five-year-olds."

She narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Dada is not bored when he says it."

Sky makes a strangled noise.

I point at the mixing bowl. "Chef Kaia, are you questioning the head of this kitchen?"

She gasps dramatically. "No, Papa!"

"Good. Because if you don't finish mixing that batter, Uncle Sky is going to make you measure  the chocolate chips and sprinkles properly."

Her face falls. "Nooo."

Sky grins wickedly. "Precision matters in baking."

She huffs, going back to stirring, muttering to herself. "Taxes... mhm mhm... boring."

I shoot Sky a look that says you're not helping.

He leans in and whispers, "You know she's going to ask P'Phayu later."

I sigh.

"God help him."

Sky drifts back to the prep table, immediately absorbed into whatever chaotic experiment he and Kaia are conducting.

I hear words like "extra sprinkles," "just a little more butter," and "that's probably fine," which means the oven is about to become a crime scene.

Kaia skips back to me, flour footprints marking her path across the tiles.

I scoop her up easily and sit her on the counter in front of me. Up close, she's a disaster—flour in her curls, sugar on her cheeks, chocolate smudged near her mouth.

"You're messy, baby," I murmur, grabbing a clean towel and gently wiping her face.

She grins proudly and leans forward to bop my nose with hers. "I'm a baker, Papa."

I smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Ah, of course. Occupational hazard."

She nods seriously. "Uncle Sky says chaos is creativity."

From behind us, Sky yells, "I did not say it like that!"

Kaia giggles and leans into my chest while I brush flour off her apron.

I look down at her—so small, so sticky, so happy—and my chest tightens in the best way.

"You can be messy here," I tell her softly. "But when Dada gets home and sees flour in your hair, I'm blaming Uncle Sky."

She gasps dramatically. "Papa!"

Sky groans in the background.

And like he heard me, my phone rings.

Voice call.

I glance at the screen and smile. "Hi, Phi."

"Hi, beautiful," he answers immediately, voice low, warm. "You okay?"

"Hmm," I hum, leaning back against the counter.

Kaia hears his voice and instantly loses composure.

"DADA DADA DADA!" she squeals, flailing her flour-covered hands toward my phone like it's a lifeline.

I wince. "One second—"

Phi chuckles softly through the speaker. "Is that my tiger?"

"She's covered in sugar and chaos," I say dryly.

"I am NOT chaos!" she shouts directly into the phone as I switch it to speaker.

"Hi, Tiger," he says, voice melting instantly into that softer register he only uses for her.

"Dada, I'm baking!" she announces proudly.

"Oh? Are you feeding Papa properly? He looks tiny."

I scoff. "Excuse you?"

Kaia gasps. "Papa is NOT tiny."

Phi laughs. "Yes. He's perfect, just like you"

She beams at the phone like he just handed her the world again.

"Dada, Papa said mhm mhm is taxes," she blurts.

There is a long pause.

I close my eyes.

Sky slowly turns to face me.

"...Rain," Phi says carefully.

"It was an emergency censorship situation," I defend.

Kaia squints at the phone. "Dada, are you bored when you say mhm mhm?"

Sky chokes on air.

Phi clears his throat. "Very bored, Tiger. Extremely bored."

Kaia nods solemnly. "Okay."

I shoot Sky a look that says we survived that one.

Phi's voice softens again. "I miss you."

My heart does that stupid thing it always does.

"We miss you too," I say, and switch to video. I stand so Kaia and I are both in frame. She immediately leans into the phone with puckered lips, pressing a loud kiss to the screen.

Phi laughs and kisses the camera back. "Mwah. That's for my tiger."

I shake my head at the two of them. Absolutely ridiculous.

Then I look at him properly. Helmet off. Hair messy from the wind. Eyes still sharp.

"Hope you didn't forget you have to be home early for the gala."

He groans like I just sentenced him to prison.

Before he can start sweet-talking his way out of it, I cut him off. "I don't want to hear it. You're going."

He narrows his eyes. "Rain—"

"Nope."

Kaia perks up immediately. "We're going to a party?" she cheers, bouncing.

I laugh and wipe chocolate off her cheek with my thumb. "Just me and Dada, baby. You okay staying with Uncle Sky tonight?"

She pouts instantly. "But I wanna go."

Phi softens. Of course he does. "Tiger—"

"It's a boring grown-up party," I explain gently. "Lots of talking. No toys. No dancing."

She squints suspiciously. "Is there cake?"

I hesitate.

Phi smirks. "There's definitely cake."

I shoot him a look.

Kaia gasps. "I WANNA GO."

I groan. "Phi."

He grins at me through the screen, absolutely enjoying this.

"Tiger," he says carefully, "how about this. You stay with Uncle Sky tonight... and tomorrow, we'll get cake and I'll take you on the bike around the compound. Just us."

Her pout wavers.

She thinks hard for a full three seconds.

"...Okay."

I exhale in relief.

Phi looks back at me, softer now. "I should be home soon. You've got my outfit, right?"

I roll my eyes. "When do I not?"

He grins, slow and infuriating. "Just checking. I like when you dress me."

"You like when I undress you," I correct automatically.

His smile deepens.

"You can start coming home now," he says casually, voice dropping half a register, "and we might be able to squeeze in a little mhm mhm before we go."

I narrow my eyes at the screen. "You are incapable of behaving for more than five minutes."

Sky, in the background, loudly bangs a tray into the oven.

Kaia squints at the phone. "Taxes?"

I choke.

Phi clears his throat instantly. "Very important taxes, Tiger."

"BORING," she declares.

I press my fingers to my temple. "Phi. Focus. Gala. Diplomats. No biting anyone."

He tilts his head. "Define anyone."

"P'Phayu."

He sighs dramatically. "Fine. I'll be home in an hour."

"thirty minutes," I correct.

He smirks. "Make it worth it."

I shake my head, but I'm smiling. "Drive safe."

"I always do."

And before I hang up, he adds quietly, just for me, "Can't wait to see you all dressed up"

"I know," I say softly. "Come home. I love you."

There's a shift in his expression when I say it.

And before he can answer— Kaia grabs the phone with both hands and screams directly into it, "I LOVE YOU DADA!"

Phi laughs, the sound warm and unguarded. "I love you more, Tiger."

"Nooo I love you MORE," she insists, face pressed too close to the camera so all we can see is one brown eye and flour on her nose.

He hums. "Impossible. That's scientifically inaccurate."

She gasps. "Papa! Dada says I'm wrong!"

I take the phone back before she escalates this into a constitutional crisis. "Come home," I tell him, smiling despite myself.

He nods once. "On my way."

And Kaia yells, "NO MHM MHM AT THE PARTY. you have to have fun!"

Sky collapses behind us laughing.

I catch Phi's loud laughter too as I hang up.

Then, "Princess," I say gently, crouching down so we're eye level. "I have to go home to get ready. Have fun with Uncle Sky, okay?"

She immediately frowns. "You're leaving now?"

"Just for a little bit," I promise, smoothing flour from her cheek. "You're in charge of quality control. That's a very important job."

Her eyes light up slightly. "Like Dada?"

"Exactly like Dada," I nod. "Except less scary."

From behind us, Sky gasps dramatically. "Excuse me. I am terrifying."

Kaia giggles and throws her arms around my neck. I hug her tight, breathing her in—sugar, vanilla, childhood.

"You'll come back?" she asks quietly.

"Always," I say, kissing her temple, brushing her curls back. "Me and Dada. Always."

She studies my face like she's verifying a contract, then nods slowly.

"You're going to look very pretty for the party?" she asks, tilting her head.

I smile. "Hmm. I'll try."

"You will," she insists seriously. "Because Dada wears black and you wear white."

I laugh softly. "That's the rule, huh?"

She nods like it's law.

"And I'm going to send pictures to Uncle Sky so you can see us," I promise. "And we're still going to video call you before you sleep."

Her whole face lights up. "Okay."

She leans in for one more hug, quick and tight, then pulls back. "Tell Dada I said don't be scary."

I snort softly. "I'll try. Give me a goodbye kiss."

She giggles and grabs my face with both sticky hands, planting a loud, exaggerated kiss on my lips, cheeks and forehead. I laugh despite the flour she transfers onto me.

"I love you, Princess," I say, kissing her back. "Be good for Uncle Sky, okay? And don't eat too much sugar."

She gasps like I've insulted her entire profession. "I'm a baker, Papa!"

"Mm. Bakers can still pace themselves."

She narrows her eyes playfully. "You and Dada eat sugar."

"That's different. We're old."

She squints at me. "You're not old."

I grin. "Really."

Sky calls from behind the counter, "Chef Kaia, the cookies are ready!"

She lights up instantly, already halfway turned away. "Bye Papa! I love you! Send pictures!"

"I love you too, and I will," I promise.

I stand there for a second, watching her laugh, watching the way the light hits her hair.

Phayu's POV

I get home later than I intended.

Which means I already know Rain is going to hand my ass back to me.

The house is quiet when I step inside. A few of the men and the maids nod in greeting as I pass, but I don't stop to talk. If Rain's already getting ready, every second I'm late is another mark against me.

I take the stairs two at a time.

By the time I reach the bedroom door, I can hear him humming inside—soft, absent-minded, the way he does when he's focused on something.

I push the door open and go in.

The bedroom is empty and I follow his beautiful voice ringing out from the closet.

And I stop.

He is standing in front of the mirror, curling his blonde hair with slow, practiced movements. His makeup is already done—beautiful eyes, perfect skin, lips slightly glossed. He's still in his robe, white silk tied loosely at the waist, the fabric slipping off one shoulder.

Our eyes meet in the mirror.

He looks at me for exactly one second.

Then he goes right back to curling his hair like I'm not even there.

"Hi, beautiful," I try.

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

He keeps humming, wrapping another strand of hair around the iron, calm as anything.

...Shit.

I'm in trouble.

I move behind him slowly as he sits at the vanity, the room filled with the soft scent of his perfume and heat from the curling iron.

His reflection stares calmly at the mirror, focused, precise, completely ignoring the fact that I'm standing right behind him like a guilty man waiting for judgment.

I reach out—just to touch his shoulder.

"Don't."

The word is quiet but hard enough to stop my hand mid-air.

I swallow.

He doesn't even look at me. Just wraps another strand of blonde hair around the iron, humming softly like nothing happened.

"Shower," he says evenly. "And dress up."

Still not looking at me.

"Don't make me tell you again."

Yeah.

I'm definitely in trouble.

And 'm not stupid enough to dig my grave deeper.

So instead I murmur quietly, "I love you."

He says nothing.

Not even a flicker in the mirror.

I swallow and start taking off my clothes right there, hoping—maybe stupidly—that the sight of me might soften him a little. Usually it works. Usually Rain can't resist touching me when I'm standing there naked like that.

Not today.

I'm fully naked behind him and he doesn't even flinch.

He just finishes the curl he's working on, sets the iron down, and stands like I'm not even part of the room. Calm...controlled... really terrifying.

Then he walks to his side of the closet and starts pulling out clothes.

I exhale quietly.

Yeah. I deserve this.

I give up and head to the shower, keeping it quick. The water's barely warm by the time I step out, towel around my waist.

When I come back into the closet, Rain is already fully dressed.

And fuck.

He looks unreal.

The white outfit hugs him perfectly, blonde hair falling in soft waves around his face, makeup sharp enough to kill someone. He's standing at the vanity again, comparing pieces of jewelry with the same clinical focus he uses when he's planning an execution.

"You look breathtaking, baby," I say honestly.

He ignores me.

Doesn't even look up.

He just lifts a hand and points to the corner of the room.

"Those are your clothes."

I glance over. My black suit is laid out perfectly.

"Twenty minutes is all you get."

Then finally he looks at me through the mirror.

"And Phi?"

His eyes narrow slightly.

"You do not want to exceed fifteen."