From across the kitchen, Laiken watches us. He’s standing at the stove, spatula in hand, shoulders relaxed in a way that makes him look more approachable. The league fears him, yet his four-year-old daughter can turn him into a pile of mush. It’s unexpectedly sweet.
“Would you like some eggs?” he asks. “I was just making breakfast.”
The word eggs is all it takes to make my stomach roll hard enough that I have to steady myself against the counter.
I shake my head, suppressing a grimace. “No, thanks. I’ll just have a piece of toast.”
His eyes narrow a fraction. Not with suspicion, exactly. More like awareness. “Aren’t much of a breakfast person, huh?”
“Doesn’t seem like it lately,” I say, forcing a smile and reaching for the bread.
Thankfully, he doesn’t push the issue. With a nod, he turns back to the stove, but I still feel the quiet weight of his attention all the same. It’s not judgment. More like silent questions.
Elody climbs onto a stool. “Can I stay home with Kia today? Pleeeease?”
“Nope, not today, bug,” Laiken says. “Your friends would miss you.”
She pouts.
“How about Kia drops you off and picks you up from school,” he adds. “That way you still get plenty of time together.”
The suggestion earns an approving smile.
As I butter my toast and nibble at the edge, Laiken mutters something about socks, rubbing his forehead, as if physically pained by the idea.
“She hates socks,” he says when I continue staring.
I roll up my jeans and show Elody my patterned ones. “Do you have a pair that look like this? If so, we can match. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Her eyes widen. “I’ll check!”
She hops off the stool and scampers toward her bedroom. Less than two minutes later, she’s back, holding up a pair that aren’t quite the same but close enough to count.
“Daddy! Look!” she announces proudly. “Kia and I are gonna be sock twins today!”
His expression eases, something warm and unguarded passing across his face as his gaze bounces between us.
“Guess there’s no choice now,” he says. “You’ve gotta wear them. Wouldn’t want to miss out on being sock twins.” His attention cuts to me. “Impressive.”
I smile. It was an easy problem to solve, but it still feels good to get it right.
Once breakfast is done, we grab jackets and her small backpack before heading to the elevator, the three of us riding down to the garage. Laiken clicks the locks on a shiny black Escalade before opening the door to the back seat and strapping Elody inside. Then he kisses her forehead and opens the driver’s door for me.
I hesitate, eyeing the dashboard. It looks unnecessarily complicated, more like a cockpit than a car. After settling onto the leather seat, Laiken reaches in and slides it forward, the quick adjustment bringing me closer to the steering wheel. Then he reaches for the belt before I can do it myself. His arm moves across my body, the seatbelt dragging over my chest before he secures it in place. The sound echoes in the small space between us.
The gesture is simple. Practical. And yet, it feels intimate in a way that sends an unexpected jolt through me. Our gazes catch and hold, neither of us pulling back right away. For a suspended second, I’m aware of the warmth of his hand lingering near my shoulder and the steady calm in his expression. Of the way he’s taking care of me. All of it is complicated by the reminder that he’s technically my employer and nothing more.
Except it doesn’t feel that simple.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Start it up.”
My fingers shake as I press the ignition and the engine roars to life. Laiken leans in again, pushing a few buttons on the screen until a map and address appear.
“That’s the route for school. It’ll give you turn by turn directions.” He glances at me. “I already called the school and let them know you’d be dropping her off.”
“All right. Should be easy enough,” I mutter, hoping that turns out to be the case.
He retreats a step before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Any questions?”
