"Did you take your medicine, Leo-kun?" Aunt Akiko asked pointedly as she set down the final serving dish. Her eyes flicked meaningfully to the alphas, then back to me.
"Yes, Aunt Akiko." I sighed, feeling my face heat under the alphas' interested gazes. "Triple dose, as instructed."
"Good boy," Stefano murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear it. The praise sent an unwelcome shiverdown my spine, my body responding to his words like I'd been conditioned to.
"Don't start," I whispered back, serving myself rice with slightly shaky hands. "I'm armed with chopsticks and I know exactly where all three of your jugulars are."
His smile widened, showing teeth. "Threatening bodily harm at the dinner table? What would your aunt say about your manners?"
"She'd understand once I explained the provocation," I replied, stabbing a piece of chicken with more force than necessary.
Dinner proceeded with excruciating slowness. Aunt Akiko and Uncle Jiro seemed completely oblivious to my discomfort, chatting easily with the alphas about everything from gardening to Italian cuisine. Marco charmed them with stories of his grandmother's cooking, Matteo impressed Uncle Jiro with his knowledge of traditional Japanese carpentry, and Stefano discussed international security trends like he was giving a TED talk.
The worst part wasn't even how thoroughly they'd won over my guardians. It was how my traitorous body kept responding to their proximity despite the suppressants. Every time Stefano reached across me for the water pitcher, his arm brushing mine sent tingles racing across my skin. When Marco leaned close to "whisper" commentary about the food, his breath against my ear made my pulse jump embarrassingly.
"Your aunt is an excellent cook," Stefano commented, his leg shifting to press against mine under the table. The casual contact shouldn't have affected me through layers of denim, but somehow, I felt it like a brand on my skin.
"Yes, she is," I managed, trying to focus on my food rather than the overwhelming alpha presence bracketing me on bothsides. "A skill that runs in the family, unlike home invasion and boundary violations, which seem to be your specialties."
"Such a sharp tongue," Marco said with obvious appreciation. "I wonder what it would take to sweeten it."
"Nothing you're capable of providing," I shot back, though the heat rising to my face undermined my bravado.
Across the table, Matteo watched this exchange with that unnerving intensity, those amber eyes tracking every micro-expression that crossed my face. Unlike the others, he didn't feel the need to fill silence with conversation, but his quiet observation was somehow more unsettling than their active provocation.
When his foot deliberately hooked around my ankle under the table, I nearly choked on my curry. The casual possessiveness of the gesture—connecting us while the others couldn't see—sent a jolt of something that wasn't entirely outrage through my system.
"Are you alright, Leo-kun?" Aunt Akiko asked with concern.
"Fine," I wheezed, glaring daggers at Matteo, who didn't even have the decency to look guilty. "Just went down the wrong pipe."
"Perhaps you should slow down," Stefano suggested, his hand coming to rest on the back of my chair, fingers just brushing against my spine. "There's no rush."
Easy for him to say when he's not being tactically assaulted from three different directions by alpha touch.
By the time dessert arrived—Aunt Akiko's homemade mochi that would normally have me fighting for seconds—I was a bundle of frayed nerves and confused hormones. The suppressants were fighting a losing battle against proximity and touch, leaving me hyperaware of every movement, every breath, every subtle shift of their powerful bodies.
"I should help with the dishes," I announced abruptly, standing the moment I'd swallowed my last bite.
"Nonsense," Marco said, rising smoothly beside me. "We'll help Akiko. You look tired, little prince. Perhaps some fresh air would do you good."
"An excellent suggestion," Stefano agreed, also standing. The movement brought him close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, a position that made me feel smaller, more vulnerable. "I could use a walk myself. Clear my head."
I recognized the trap immediately. "I'm perfectly capable of clearing dishes," I insisted, reaching for my plate only to have Marco intercept it with fluid grace.
"We insist," he said, his smile making it clear this wasn't really a choice. "Matteo is excellent with delicate dishware, aren't you, Matteo?"
Matteo nodded, already gathering plates with efficient movements. "Very careful. Nothing breaks in my hands."
The implication made heat rise to my face. I looked to Aunt Akiko for support, but she was beaming at them like they'd just offered to rebuild the entire house.
"How thoughtful!" she exclaimed, patting Marco's arm with obvious approval. "Leo-kun, you should take Stefano-san for a tour of the garden. It's lovely in the moonlight."
Et tu, Aunt Akiko?
"A tour," I repeated flatly. "Of the garden. In the dark. With an alpha who already spent the entire day here. That seems necessary."
"I'd be honored," Stefano said with a gravity that made the simple statement sound like he was accepting a knighthood rather than a walk around our modest garden.
