The next morning, the kitchen was already awake.
Prim stood barefoot on the warm marble floor, grey joggers hanging low on his hips, no shirt in sight. When he wore clothes, it was easy to miss—but like this, it was obvious. Slim, well-proportioned, lean muscle built naturally rather than sculpted. Not too big, not too sharp, just… dangerous. His six-pack shifted subtly each time he reached forward, the dragon-like tattoos at the back of his neck flexing as if alive, curling down his spine.
A few female servants moved around him, pretending very hard not to stare. One nearly dropped a tray when he turned.
Prim didn't notice. He had his earpods in, music humming softly as he worked the massive island counter. The countertop was cold white marble veined with silver, reflecting the soft glow of the hidden lights beneath floating cabinets. Pancake batter spread smoothly on a heated induction surface built directly into the counter, while bacon sizzled in a sleek black pan nearby. The kitchen was huge—open, high-ceilinged, glass walls letting morning sunlight spill in—but it didn't feel empty. Everything was placed with intention: classic wooden panels warming the futuristic lines, matte black appliances hidden seamlessly behind smooth surfaces, a translucent recipe screen hovering near his shoulder.
Prim flipped a pancake with practiced ease, cracked eggs one-handed, and reached for butter without looking.
"Damn," Daisy's voice cut in brightly, heels clicking against the marble. "Want to be my daddy for a night?"
The servant who had escorted her froze mid-step.
Daisy had completely ignored the stairs leading to Ava's room and walked straight into the kitchen like it was her natural habitat. The servant glanced between Prim and Daisy, then wisely backed away, disappearing through a side door.
Prim sensed someone behind him and turned, pulling one earpod out. His lips curved lazily as he leaned back against the island, the cool marble pressing against his bare skin.
"Hi, mama," he said. "You're dressed so well today—no one would guess you're a creep who secretly takes pictures of handsome guys."
His gaze swept over her openly.
Daisy was wearing a blue knee-length A-line floral halter dress, the backless cut revealing smooth skin, ruffled straps framing her shoulders. A white cropped cardigan hung loosely over her arms, and white heels made her legs look even longer as she stepped closer.
"Be my model," she said, winking. "I promise I won't look at any other guy's abs."
Prim laughed, turning back toward the stove. He reached across the island to grab a plate from one of the hidden drawers that slid open silently at his touch. "Tempting," he admitted. "But for the sake of my health, I'll pass. I don't think I can eat while your brother gives me that 'I'll bury you in the backyard' look."
As if summoned by name, soft footsteps echoed down the open staircase.
Ava appeared, sunlight catching in her honey-blonde hair as it fell straight down her back like a waterfall. She was dressed simply in a white tennis skirt and oversized white hoodie, sleeves pushed up carelessly. Without breaking stride, she crossed the kitchen, leaned over the island, grabbed a spoon from a holder, and scooped fried eggs straight from the pan.
"Hi, Daisy," she said casually, shoving the eggs into her mouth.
Prim tilted his head, eyes meeting hers over the counter.
Ava froze for half a second.
Then she smiled—quick, bright—and immediately turned and ran, her sneakers squeaking softly against the marble.
Daisy burst out laughing, leaning against the island.
Ava stopped at the doorway, spun around, and pointed accusingly. "Oh, right. Prim, put on a shirt. No one wants to see your dry chest. So ugly."
She rolled her eyes, grabbed Daisy by the wrist, and dragged her toward the exit, their laughter echoing through the glass-and-marble space.
Moments later, Daisy's family car waited outside. Ava slid into the seat beside her as the car pulled away, leaving the kitchen behind—still warm with the smell of butter, sugar, and quiet amusement.
Prim flipped another pancake, smirking to himself as the lights adjusted automatically with the rising sun.
The car glided into a quiet street lined with boutique cafés and private clubs, the kind of place that didn't need loud signs because everyone who mattered already knew it existed. Soft instrumental music hummed inside the car as Daisy leaned toward the window, eyes lighting up the moment she spotted their destination.
Glass walls stretched from floor to ceiling, tinted slightly gold, reflecting sunlight and passing silhouettes. Inside, warm lighting glowed like late afternoon even though it was still morning. The entrance framed the café like an art gallery—polished stone floors, sculpted greenery climbing the walls, and subtle metallic accents that made the space feel expensive without being loud about it.
Ava stepped out first, her posture calm, composed, like she belonged there. Daisy followed, practically bouncing.
The moment they entered, the atmosphere shifted.
The air smelled faintly of roasted coffee, citrus, and something sweet. Low music played—smooth, rhythmic, designed to relax rather than distract. Conversations hushed for half a second as eyes flicked their way, then resumed as if nothing had happened.
The waiters moved toward them.
They were dressed uniformly—black tailored trousers sitting low on their hips, polished shoes, suspenders hanging loose against bare torsos. Their movements were unhurried, confident, like they were fully aware of the effect they had and didn't need to exaggerate it.
Ava kept her face neutral, but her ears betrayed her, warming slightly.
Daisy noticed immediately.
They were led to a private room separated by a frosted glass partition etched with abstract patterns. Inside, the table was wide and smooth, a dark marble surface reflecting the soft golden lights above. Cushioned chairs curved comfortably around it, and a single vase with pale flowers sat at the center.
Menus were placed down.
Ava ordered with practiced ease—grilled seafood arranged delicately, creamy pasta infused with herbs, crisp salads layered with color. For drinks, sparkling citrus blends in tall crystal glasses, ice clinking softly as mint leaves floated near the surface.
As the food arrived, the waiters moved close—but never crossed the line. Plates were set carefully, fingers brushing just close enough to be felt. One leaned in to explain a dish, voice low and pleasant. Another refilled Daisy's glass with a smile.
Ava tried not to look.
She failed.
Her gaze flicked up—abs, smooth skin, controlled posture—and immediately snapped back down.
Daisy smirked.
"Oh?" she said lazily. "Premium service."
With a simple nod, the mood changed.
The music deepened. The lights dimmed slightly, warm shadows dancing across the walls. Four of the waiters stepped forward, movements smooth and deliberate. One began to sing softly, voice rich and controlled. Another moved in rhythm, not exaggerated, not crude—just confident.
Ava's fingers rested on the table.
One of the waiters offered Daisy a bite, feeding her casually like it was the most natural thing in the world. Another passed behind Ava, his arm brushing hers by accident.
She stiffened.
Then—chaos.
The door slammed open.
"How dare you touch my boyfriend?!"
The scream cut through the room like glass shattering.
A woman stormed in, heels sharp against the floor, eyes blazing. Several men followed behind her, dressed in dark suits, their expressions cold and ready.
The waiter closest to her frowned immediately. "I'm not your boyfriend," he said firmly. "We are not dating. Stop coming here when I'm working."
That only fueled her anger.
Her gaze snapped to Ava and Daisy—sharp, hateful, assessing. Ava stood tall, composed, her expression calm but distant, elegance clinging to her naturally. Daisy, beside her, looked harmless at first glance—cute, bright—but her eyes were alert.
The woman waved her hand.
The bodyguards moved.
Daisy screamed—not in fear, but loud enough to draw attention. Phones came out around the café, murmurs spreading, yet no one dared interfere.
"You think you can seduce my man?" the woman shrieked, slapping Daisy hard across the face.
Silence fell.
Ava and Daisy exchanged a single look.
In one swift motion, Ava grabbed the waiter and pressed a fork lightly against his neck—not breaking skin, just enough pressure to make the threat unmistakable.
"I know exactly where to stab," Ava said calmly. "Do you want to test me?"
The woman shrieked, panic flashing across her face.
"Let him go!" the woman yelled. "Fight me instead of going to a man who can't fight for himself you brat "the woman who was probably in her twenties ryelled
Daisy smiled slowly. "oh we will take that offer."
She lunged forward, grabbing the woman's arm. One bodyguard rushed in—Daisy stomped down hard on the woman's foot, forcing a scream.
"Touch me," Daisy warned coldly, "and she dies."
The room erupted into chaos.
They slowly back away slowly with their hostage.
Daisy slapped her—once, twice as she pushed her to her thug as ava let go of the waiter.
Then, just to add insult, she leaned in and kissed the stunned waiter's cheek as Ava brushed her fingers briefly across his arm.
They ran.
The woman screamed for her men to chase them.
Outside, Ava and Daisy split instantly at a bend in the road, disappearing in opposite directions.
Ava sprinted, heart pounding, ducking into a dim internet café. She dropped low immediately, sliding under a table, curling tight, breath held as heavy footsteps thundered past.
The noise faded.
Someone sat down at the table above her.
Her phone vibrated.
Ava nearly lost her soul.
Asher sat near the corner of the internet café, headphones on, fingers moving lazily over the keyboard as his game loaded. The place was dim, screens glowing blue and white, the hum of machines blending with low chatter. From the outside, it looked like a random hangout spot—inside, it felt like a maze of shadows and cables.
The door opened.
Asher glanced up briefly.
A group of men entered, dressed too sharply for a gaming café. Their eyes scanned the room, alert, searching. Asher didn't react. He simply leaned back in his chair and continued playing, posture relaxed, like nothing in the world could interest him less.
Then—
A ringtone rang.
Soft, but sharp in the quiet.
Asher froze.
Slowly, deliberately, he looked down.
Under the table, a pair of large pale-blue eyes stared back at him, unblinking.
He looked up.
Then down again.
He tilted his head slightly, listening as one of the men spoke to the café owner at the counter, asking if he had seen a girl run inside. The tone wasn't friendly.
So that's it, Asher thought.
A smirk tugged at his lips. He was just about to raise his hand and point—when something cold pressed warningly against his little brother from below the table.
His entire body locked.
"Call them," Ava whispered, her voice low and steady, "and I swear you won't like what happens next your sausage would not be were it meant to be at ."
Asher shut his eyes and inhaled slowly through his nose.
When he opened them again, he calmly resumed his game, fingers tapping the keys as if nothing was happening. The men continued searching, footsteps moving past, tension thick in the air.
Under the table, Ava finally released a shaky breath, her grip loosening without realizing it. Her hand shifted and the hairpin press deeper—
Too much.
Asher slapped the side of her head sharply.
Ava gasped, startled.
Her hand jerked away, the hairpin slipping from her fingers and clattering softly to the floor. Before she could react, Asher's hand came down, gripping the back of her head firmly, stopping her from moving.
She glared up at him.
Neither of them spoke.
Her legs were burning, her body cramped from crouching for too long. Without thinking, she leaned forward slightly, resting her forehead against his thigh just to take the pressure off close to his little brother.
Asher stiffened.
Behind him, one of his teammates walked up to check on him—then froze.
From his angle, it looked very wrong as if she was giving him head.
The teammate's eyes widened. He turned around instantly and went back to his seat without a word.
"…You really don't know how to behave around the opposite sex, do you?" Asher muttered, eyes still on the screen.
Ava scoffed quietly. "You're the one overreacting."
"Oh, I'm overreacting?" Asher shot back under his breath. "You're hiding under tables and threatening people."
"Like you're any better," Ava snapped softly, tapping his leg in irritation. "You are enjoying tgis see how you are reacting ."
"It is called stimulation why don't we change positions and I rest my head close on your lap close to your...you know what and keep on moving my head down there and breathing directly at it let see if you will get a reaction" Asher replied.
Ava blush at his word " u are disgusting do you know that you should go wash your mouth"
" Says the one being chased by a thug " he snapped back "
" Stop talking to me I don't need your fucking help or your stupid lecture ava fired back.
Asher paused.
Then he stood up.
Loudly.
"She's under the table," he said clearly.
Ava cursed.
She rolled out from under the table and bolted for the back exit as the men shouted and surged forward. Chairs scraped. People yelled.
Outside, Ava burst into the alley, chest heaving. The men caught up quickly, surrounding her.
She stopped.
Her stance shifted—feet planted, fists raised.
Just as they moved in—
A red sports car screeched toward them, stopping inches away.
The men hesitated.
That was all Ava needed.
She struck fast—an elbow to one man's jaw, a knee to another's midsection. When a hand grabbed her wrist, she used the momentum to spin and kick, knocking him back.
The driver's door flew open.
A glass bottle smashed against the head of the man holding her, sending him crumpling to the ground.
"Tsk," a familiar voice clicked. "And I was going to give that drink to my dad."
Ava turned.
"Milo!"
She rushed forward and hugged him tightly.
"You're back?" she demanded. "How did you even know I was here?"
"The café's on the way from the airport to the estate," Milo said easily. "Daisy called me. And I see you still haven't changed—trouble follows you everywhere."
Ava rolled her eyes. "Like you're any different."
They jumped into the car as sirens echoed faintly in the distance. The engine roared, and they sped away, leaving chaos—and Asher—behind.
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