Third Person's POV.
The inside of Percy's Maybach was silent, but the air was vibrating with his annoyance. Percy sat stiffly in the leather seat, his hands gripped tightly on the armrests as if he were holding back from snapping something—and possibly Harlow's neck.
"He was smirking," Percy muttered, staring out the window at the bright lights of the city. "He actually smirked at me while holding my sister's hand. The audacity of that man—"
"Percy, stop," Gemini said softly, sliding across the seat to press his side against Percy's. He took Percy's rigid hand and interlaced their fingers. "Penelope looked happy. Did you see her? She wasn't in her usual guarded mode tonight. She was just Pen."
"She was vulnerable," Percy countered, though his grip loosened slightly. "He's a charmer. Those types are dangerous."
"She's a Moore, babe. She eats dangerous for breakfast," Gemini whispered. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Percy's jawline. "And she knows exactly what she's doing. We're talking about Penelope after all. We're talking about the woman who terrorizes hedge fund managers just for sport."
Percy turned his head, his gaze softening as it met Gemini's. "Work is different. This is... personal."
"Is it?" Gemini murmured, moving his lips to Percy's cheek, then the corner of his mouth. He began to pepper Percy's face with light, distracting kisses—one for his forehead, one for each eyelid, and finally deep kiss on his lips that effectively derailed Percy's train of thought.
Percy was trying so hard to angry. But then Gemini touches and words were making it very hard for him to concentrate. Gemini was right, as usual. Penelope can handle herself. But Percy knows one thing for sure. If that photographer breaks his sister's heart, he's going to bury him alive.
By the time they pulled up to the penthouse, Percy's shoulders had finally relaxed. He pulled Gemini into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of Gemini's neck.
"Thank you for keeping me calm, Bunny."
Meanwhile, Harlow and Penelope were walking the few blocks back to her place, the cool night air a relief after the awkward dinner. Harlow was quiet for a moment before he let out a long breath.
"I've photographed world leaders, Penelope," Harlow said, shaking his head. "I've been in war zones. But your brother? That man is terrifying. I felt like he was calculating the exact weight of the dirt he'd need to cover my body."
Penelope burst out laughing, the sound ringing through the quiet street. "Oh, he definitely was. Percy doesn't do 'subtle' when it comes to me. He has a very specific 'I'm-going-to-end-you' look."
"I noticed the look," Harlow laughed, pulling her closer to his side. "But honestly? If it means I get to have dinner with you often, I'll take the death stares. Though I might need to wear a Kevlar vest to our next dinner."
"Bold of you to assume there will be a next time," Penelope said, rolling her eyes and quickening her pace to hide the smile tugging at her lips.
"Hey! A guy can hope, can't he?" Harlow called out, chasing after her.
The next morning, Penelope arrived at Percy's apartment before the city had even fully woken up. She found him on the terrace, bathed in the soft Sunday light, surrounded by a fortress of espresso and financial newspapers. Gemini was notably absent—likely still sleeping off the emotional labor of the previous night.
"You're here for damage control, I assume," Percy said, his eyes never leaving the Financial Times.
Penelope sat across from him, leaning over to snatch a piece of his sourdough toast.
"Percy. Look at me."
He lowered the paper slowly. His expression was weary, the protective "Protective Brother" armor still visible, but his attention was absolute.
"I know you're trying to protect me," Penelope said, her voice dropping the mask. "And I know you see a threat in every man who looks at me without blinking. But I'm asking you, as your sister and your best friend: leave this one alone. Let me handle Harlow. I know exactly what this is, and I know exactly what I'm doing. Okay?"
Percy stayed silent. He studied her face—the way her eyes were brighter, the way she wasn't tapping her fingers nervously on the table.
"I don't care about the casual stuff, Pen," Percy said, his voice losing its sharp edge. "I just want you to be safe. People like us... it's hard to tell who really wants us and who just wants the name on the building. I don't want to see you get hurt."
Penelope felt a lump in her throat. She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "I know, big brother. But I'm okay. And for the first time in a long time, I'm actually having fun with someone. Can you just let me have that?"
Percy sighed, a long, heavy sound of surrender. He flipped his hand over to grip hers back. "Fine. I'll call off the hounds. For now. But the shovel stays in the trunk, just in case."
Penelope smiled, a genuine, relieved expression. "Deal. Now, tell me... just how many times did Gemini have to kiss you to stop you from going back to finish the job last night?"
Percy actually blushed, a rare splash of color hitting his cheekbones. He snapped his paper back up, hiding his face.
"That is highly classified information, Penelope Moore. I am a gentleman; I do not kiss and tell."