Chapter 109: Chapter 109: Dinner (1)

Philip’s gaze flicked to Gregoris for the briefest moment. “She thinks you’ve been… taken advantage of.”

Rafael stared at Philip.

Then at Gregoris.

Then at himself, still on the desk, robe slightly undone at the throat, cheeks faintly flushed, smelling like Gregoris in a way that left absolutely no room for delusions.

He blinked slowly, as if his brain needed a second to catch up with the sheer stupidity of the claim.

“Can someone take advantage of him?” Rafael asked, honestly baffled. “Does anyone in this room own the equipment required to attempt that?”

Philip’s mouth twitched violently, caught between propriety and the urge to laugh.

Bruno, unhelpfully, looked like he was going to enjoy this entire day.

Daniel made a sound and then burst into laughter, the first real crack in the room’s tension.

“No,” Daniel managed, still laughing. “No, no. The other way around.”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “The other way around.”

“Yes,” Daniel said, wiping at his eye with the back of his hand like he was offended by his own amusement. “Mother thinks he is taking advantage of you.”

Rafael went still for half a beat.

Then he looked at Gregoris again, slowly, as if re-evaluating the physics of his life.

Gregoris lifted a brow in silent, insulted dignity, the expression of a man who would like it noted for the record that he did not need to “take advantage” of anything.

Rafael’s lips parted, then he shut them again.

“Ah,” Rafael said finally, flat.

Philip cleared his throat, clearly trying to recover. “She believes you’re confused. Or—”

“Kidnapped,” Rafael supplied.

Daniel’s laughter softened into a grin. “Yes. Something like that.”

Bruno’s silver eyes gleamed. “You do look very kidnapped.”

Rafael’s head snapped toward him. “Don’t start.”

Bruno’s mouth curved. “I didn’t start. I observed.”

Rafael stared at him, then looked back at Daniel. “And you all agreed this was worth driving here.”

Daniel’s grin turned apologetic. “We agreed that leaving her alone with her imagination was more dangerous.”

Rafael hummed, as if conceding that point reluctantly.

Then Daniel added, still amused, “Also… Gregoris is the second child.”

Rafael’s gaze slid back to Gregoris.

“Second child,” he repeated slowly.

Daniel nodded. “Middle child.”

Rafael stared at Gregoris, and a dozen things rearranged themselves in his head like puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

The silence. The secrecy. The hoarding of information. The way Gregoris treated affection like a resource to be earned and territory like a religion. The way he looked pleased when Rafael challenged him, as if conflict was the only language that ever got him seen.

Rafael exhaled once.

“Middle child,” he said, voice suddenly very calm.

Gregoris’s expression didn’t change.

Rafael nodded as if he’d just solved a case. “Explains the murder in his eyes.”

Philip made a noise that was either a cough or a stifled laugh.

Daniel’s grin widened. “Exactly.”

Bruno tilted his head, studying Gregoris. “We’ve been saying that for years.”

Gregoris finally spoke, his voice even and mildly dangerous. “Are you finished?”

Rafael looked at him sweetly, still perched on the desk like a scandal. “No.”

Gregoris’s brow lifted.

Rafael continued, with the calm cruelty of a man who had just found a new pressure point. “Now it also explains why you didn’t tell me you had brothers. You’ve been hoarding your own family like it’s contraband.”

Gregoris’s eyes narrowed.

Daniel’s laughter returned, quieter this time, like a man watching the universe deliver karma in real time.

Philip rubbed a hand over his face, resigned.

Bruno looked delighted.

And Rafael—still confused, still furious, and now deeply entertained—leaned back on his palms and decided that if Gregoris had been hiding a whole living family from him, then yes, he was going to enjoy making him suffer for it.

—

By the time they reached the dining room, Rafael had changed into something that could be described as decent in the way only Rafael could manage: a soft, fitted knit with a clean collar, tailored trousers, hair smoothed back, the composed elegance that told the world he had recovered from being perched on a desk like a scandal and was now prepared to become a problem in public.

Gregoris looked like he’d rather return to the desk scenario.

He sat at the head of the table with the posture of a man in a war council, shoulders squared, expression flat, and jaw tight. The ether wards in the walls hummed on their usual baseline, but the atmosphere had shifted… less intimate, more… watched.

Because his brothers were here.

Because Gregoris Frasner, apparently, had a family who could walk into his manor and turn his private life into an event.

Rafael took the seat beside him with deliberate calm, close enough that their knees brushed. Not to comfort Gregoris.

To remind him that he still belonged to Rafael’s orbit, even if his brothers had invaded the territory.

Gregoris’s hand settled on Rafael’s thigh under the table like it was a warning disguised as affection.

Rafael’s mouth twitched. ’Possessive. Miserable. Excellent.’

Dinner arrived in quiet waves, staff moving like ghosts, plates set down with precision. No one made conversation about the menu. That wasn’t why they were here.

Daniel folded his hands neatly, the picture of a man trying to keep the situation from exploding. Philip stared at his water like it might offer advice. Bruno looked…entertained, which made Rafael immediately distrust him.

Gregoris said nothing. He ate like it was an obligation.

Rafael, meanwhile, ate like a man who had recently regained the ability to tolerate food and intended to enjoy it out of spite.

Daniel cleared his throat.

Gregoris didn’t look up.

Daniel tried anyway. “We’re not here to stay.”

“Good,” Gregoris replied, voice level.

Rafael glanced at him. That single word came with enough warmth to freeze the soup.

Bruno’s silver eyes flicked toward Gregoris, amused. “Missed you too.”

Gregoris’s gaze lifted for the first time, slow and cold. “Don’t.”

Bruno’s mouth curved. “So affectionate.”

Philip made a low sound, halfway between a cough and a warning. “Bruno.”

Rafael watched them all, cataloging dynamics like he was reading another report. Daniel the mediator. Philip the exhausted realist. Bruno the instigator.

And Gregoris… tight-lipped, territorial, and deeply displeased that the world had dared to interrupt his day.

Rafael leaned closer, voice soft enough that only Gregoris could hear. “You look like you’re planning a containment breach.”

Gregoris didn’t turn his head. “I had plans.”

Rafael’s eyes gleamed. “I noticed.”

Under the table, Gregoris’s hand pressed more firmly against Rafael’s thigh, not rough, but definitely possessive. Like a reminder: mine.

Rafael decided to let him have that. For now.

Daniel spoke again, carefully. “This time, Father wants to talk.”

Gregoris’s fork paused mid-motion.

Rafael’s brows lifted slightly at the reaction alone. Father. The word had weight.

Daniel continued, choosing each word like it could detonate. “Damon asked us to come in person because you’ve been ignoring his messages.”

Gregoris resumed eating as if he hadn’t heard.

Rafael stared at him. “You’re ignoring messages from your father.”

Gregoris’s voice stayed even. “Yes.”

Daniel’s expression tightened. “Greg—”

Gregoris cut in without looking up. “No.”

One clean syllable. A boundary.

Rafael watched the way Daniel accepted it, the way Philip’s shoulders dropped as if this was expected, and the way Bruno’s amusement sharpened like he’d just been handed a more interesting show.

Rafael set his fork down, very gently.

“So,” Rafael said, calm and deadly polite, “your parents are alive, your father is named Damon, and he wants to speak with both of us.”

Daniel nodded. “Yes.”

“This is bad.” Rafael exhaled.

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