I woke up to an empty bed, assuming Christina had already headed downstairs. After everything that happened yesterday, I ended up training alone until 2 a.m. By the time I got back, Christina was already sound asleep. She looked so innocent in her sleep that I almost wanted to kiss her awake and devour her right then and there. But I held back; I didn't want to push her past her limits. I hoped that she would eventually want to take our relationship to a more physical level. I was willing to move at her pace, but I silently feared that she might shut me out completely.

After brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower, I headed downstairs, still shirtless. I wasn’t planning to go out today, so I didn’t see the need to dress up. My trousers hung loosely at my waist as I made my way to the kitchen. That’s when I heard a distressed voice mid-conversation.

“It took me years to even trust you with everything. I can’t—”

I paused, recognizing Andrea's voice before stepping into the kitchen. Her face was contorted in an expression of agony and distrust, with a hint of panic in her eyes. The moment she saw me, however, she snapped back into a cold, indifferent mask. Christina, noticing Andrea’s sudden change, turned to face me as well.

My eyes briefly scanned Christina’s form. She was wearing a short red dress that had ridden up slightly as she sat perched on the kitchen counter. My gaze lingered on the smooth expanse of her exposed leg. Unbidden fantasies flooded my mind — the thought of having my way with her right there, perched on the counter, made heat pool low in my stomach.

As if sensing the shift in my thoughts, she immediately jumped down and tugged at the hem of her dress, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. Once again, she reminded me of a skittish deer caught in the presence of a predator.

I turned my gaze to Andrea, who was hiding her smirk behind the rim of her coffee mug. Her eyes flicked between Christina’s flushed cheeks and my own barely concealed amusement, obviously relishing the moment. Christina, still visibly flustered, busied herself by pouring a fresh cup of coffee. When she turned back around to face me, she seemed more composed. Lifting the cup to her lips, she took a tentative sip — and then visibly recoiled. Whether she wasn’t a coffee person or Andrea had made it particularly strong, I couldn’t tell.

Curious, I strode over to her and gently pried the cup from her hands. I took a sip myself, noting the rich bitterness with very little sugar — it was strong but not unpleasant. The taste was fitting for Andrea: intense and unyielding, not easy to appreciate, but not bad once you got used to it.

I knew Raffaele didn’t trust Andrea, but I didn’t share his suspicions. She seemed more like someone with a troubled past, still carrying her wounds and fears. The way she spoke earlier suggested she hadn’t let her guard down yet. I wasn’t going to pry, and I certainly wasn’t going to let Raffaele do it either. When Andrea was ready, she’d tell us.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a frustrated sound from Christina.

“This is my coffee mug,” I stated casually, holding the cup aloft. Leaning in closer, I dropped my voice to a whisper, “Besides, I’m guessing your tastes run more on the sweeter side, don’t they, little deer?” I murmured, brushing a kiss along her jawline.

Andrea made a dramatic show of clearing her throat. “Get a room, you two. I was here first,” she complained, though her eyes were alight with mischief. She was clearly enjoying Christina’s discomfort as much as I was. Christina shot her a sharp glare, but Andrea’s smirk only widened.

The playful atmosphere shifted when Raffaele entered the room, Gabrielle trailing close behind him. Raffaele took his seat at the head of the table, wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and shorts, exuding the casual dominance that came naturally to him. Gabrielle, dressed and ready for college, sat to his left. Andrea quietly took the seat next to Gabrielle, her playful demeanor fading as she turned her attention to Raffaele.

I settled down on Raffaele’s right, and Christina took the seat beside me. Breakfast was already set on the table, thanks to Maria, our caretaker who came by every weekday morning to help. The room filled with the comforting aroma of freshly made dishes.

"So, Andrea, any other hidden talents besides knife throwing?" I asked playfully, attempting to ease the tension in the room.

"Knife throwing?" Gabrielle echoed, clearly confused.

“Oh, didn’t Raffaele tell you?” I continued with a smirk, making a show of the tale. “His pretty face was nearly ruined last night, courtesy of Andrea’s exceptional knife-throwing skills.” I purposefully exaggerated the incident, painting a dramatic picture, if only to rile up both Raffaele and Andrea.

Predictably, Raffaele responded by stabbing aggressively at his food, then shoving a large bite into his mouth as if to choke down his irritation. Andrea, on the other hand, merely let out a weary sigh, visibly unimpressed by my antics.

Gabrielle’s eyes widened, surprise and shock flickering across his face before morphing into something akin to admiration as he turned his gaze on Andrea. At least he hadn’t inherited Raffaele’s paranoia from our father. There was genuine respect in his eyes, a clear appreciation for Andrea’s skill, despite not knowing the full story.

“Well, Andrea?” I pressed again, now more genuinely curious. “Any other surprises up your sleeve?”

Her response was deadpan and delivered with the barest hint of challenge in her voice. “I can demonstrate on you if you’d like. That way you can judge for yourself if I’m truly any good.”

The unexpected comeback caught Christina off-guard. She burst into a melodic, bell-like laugh that echoed warmly through the kitchen. Her laughter, pure and unrestrained, seemed to soften something in Andrea. For a fleeting moment, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Gabrielle, too, broke into laughter, his shoulders shaking as he joined in. But the moment wasn’t as amusing to Raffaele. He narrowed his eyes, glaring daggers at Andrea, clearly torn between annoyance and grudging respect. I kicked him under the table, giving him a subtle reminder to relax. With a barely perceptible grunt, he returned his focus to his breakfast, though tension still radiated from him in waves.

I sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of the situation. These two — Raffaele and Andrea — were like oil and water, each steadfast in their own right, driven by an insatiable need for control and knowledge. Neither was willing to yield even an inch. Raffaele’s inherent suspicion and Andrea’s deep-rooted mistrust created an almost impenetrable wall between them, and until one of them decided to lower their defenses, this standoff would continue.

But for now, there were small victories: a genuine laugh from Christina, Gabrielle’s open admiration, and Andrea’s slight smile. Moments like these felt like fragile threads of hope, delicate but vital for knitting us all together.

“Well, I, for one, would rather not be on the receiving end of Andrea’s knives,” Gabrielle finally remarked, breaking the silence with a grin. “But it’s good to know we have someone that skilled on our side.”

“Good decision,” I agreed, flashing a grin at Andrea. “I’ve seen her throw a knife at Raffaele with pinpoint precision. It would’ve been a tragedy if it had landed just a few inches closer.”

“Enough,” Raffaele interjected gruffly, though I noticed a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it wasn’t outright hostility either. A small crack in his armor, perhaps.

“Fine, fine. No more picking on you,” I relented, raising my hands in mock surrender.

I usually don't engage in such open teasing of Raffaele, but someone had to take the first step to reduce the tension and talk more casually.

Christina’s eyes sparkled as she leaned slightly toward me. “Maybe you should try being her target once, just to see if you’re brave enough to handle it.”

Her playful taunt made my grin widen. “Bravery has nothing to do with it, little deer,” I murmured, leaning closer so only she could hear. My eyes locked on the clear ocean blue eyes of hers. “But I think I’ll pass on being skewered today.”

Andrea’s eyes narrowed slightly as if she’d caught my whisper. Her expression returned to that unreadable mask, but I thought I saw a flicker of amusement still lingering there.

I went back to my quiet and composed personality again enjoying the dinner in peace.