62. Lars
Gabriel lies on his side, breathing slowly with one arm tucked beneath the pillow. Neomi adjusts beside me, her hair brushing my chin as she presses closer in her sleep. My arm is wrapped loosely around her waist, her warmth familiar against my side.
Across the mattress, Gabriel stirs. His eyes open slowly before landing on us. For a second he looks almost disoriented, the way people do when they wake up somewhere unfamiliar. Then recognition settles in.
“Good morning,” he whispers.
“Good morning to you, too.”
Neomi hums, woken by our exchange. She stretches between us. “This is a lovely way to wake up.”
She presses a kiss to my chest, then turns toward Gabriel.
I trace slow circles over her shoulder while he pulls her into his arms. She lets out a contented sigh and fuck, the sight of the two of them in my bed is dangerously exquisite.
His eyes close as he holds her and I know I need to leave this bed or the restraint preventing me from fucking them will disappear.
I sit up, running a hand through my hair.
“You two stay there,” I say. “I’ll make breakfast.”
Neomi groans softly into the pillow. “You’re spoiling us.”
I can’t fight the smile that tugs on my lips as I pull on a T-shirt. Before I leave the room, I look back and see her curl into Gabriel's arms. I love the way they look in my bed. I love how gentle he is with her and how easily she goes to him.
In a world like mine, men fight for territory and they’re fiercely protective of their women. But he doesn’t feel like a threat. I don’t feel that stinging urgency to stop him. When I see her with him, I see comfort and peace amplified. And that feeling is an entirely different form of danger.
I step into the kitchen and start the coffee maker before pulling a pan from the cabinet while the machine warms up. The apartment is quiet for a moment, the sound of the grinder filling the space.
A few minutes later, footsteps drift from the stairs. Gabriel appears first, eyes still sleepy while he takes in the room. He pauses when he sees me at the counter.
“Would you like coffee?” I ask. “Sad to report it’s not pour over, but the beans are good.”
He chuckles. “I’d love some.”
I reach up to the cabinet for mugs and he approaches me, his chest against my back as he wraps his arms around me.
A featherlight kiss lands behind my ear and my skin comes alive.
He holds me for a moment, one hand splayed on my chest and the other on my stomach.
My hands rest on the counter as my eyes close and I sink into his arms.
“Last night was perfect. But I’ll admit, Lars, it took everything in me to keep it just an innocent sleepover.” His words are a whisper against my ear that sends a shiver through my body. I feel his cock hardening against my ass and I almost sink to my knees.
I turn my head. “I know, but we need nights like that to connect without sex.”
This time, his lips land on my shoulder. “Agreed, but I can’t promise my best behavior next time.”
Neomi wanders in a moment later wearing one of my sweatshirts, the sleeves hanging slightly past her hands. She comes to our side, wrapping her arms around both of us as Gabriel’s arm holds me tight. Damn it, this feels dangerously close to perfect.
“I like seeing my men like this in the morning.”
I lean my head back and allow this moment to settle into my bones.
After so many years of punishing myself for someone else’s wrongdoings, here are two people that somehow make me feel whole again.
I never imagined this for myself, but it’s perfect.
I can’t find another word to describe it.
I don’t have to choose. There’s acceptance here, and I feel safe with him behind me and her with her arms around us.
The moment ends as Gabriel squeezes my hip and kisses Neomi’s hair before he pulls away. It takes me a moment for my thoughts to settle and my focus to return to the task at hand. Neomi kisses my cheek as she grabs the Half and Half from the fridge and I pour the coffee.
“How did you sleep?” I ask as I slide Gabriel a mug.
He lifts the cup to his mouth, taking a sip before answering. His eyes drift toward me over the rim of his mug.
“Honestly?”
I nod.
“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
Neomi’s mouth curves. “That’s good to hear. Maybe we should do this more often, you know, to help with your sleep patterns.”
Gabriel glances between us. “Maybe we should.”
Neomi slides into a stool next to Gabriel as I finish cooking breakfast. After I plate the eggs and toast, I glance toward the clock.
“I have a meeting in about an hour.”
Gabriel nods. “I should head out too. I’ve got a call later this morning.”
“You’re welcome to stay here if you want,” I say. “You can use the office.”
He considers the offer for a moment before shaking his head. “I appreciate it, but I should get back.”
Neomi leans forward on the counter. “So, when do we see you again?”
Gabriel looks toward me. “Monday night?”
“That works.” The answer comes easily.
I finish the last of my coffee before setting the mug in the sink.
“Finish your breakfast,” I tell them, pushing away from the counter. “I’m going to get ready. Make sure you say goodbye before you leave.”
Gabriel watches me for a moment, something thoughtful moving behind his eyes. “I will.”
Neomi winks and blows me a kiss. I turn and head toward the bedroom to get dressed.
The atmosphere changes the moment I walk into the war room at the estate.
Enzo stands near the large display screen with Rowan and Dante, their attention focused on a series of digital schematics rotating across the monitor. The air in the room carries that quiet tension that always means someone has found something.
Rowan glances up first. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I reply, stepping closer to the table. “What’s going on?”
Rowan taps a key on the tablet in his hand and the screen shifts to a series of system logs.
“We had a security alert.”
Enzo folds his arms across his chest. “Rowan noticed an unusual access request in the internal archive system.”
“What kind of request?” I ask.
Rowan zooms in on the log entries.
“The archive containing the estate’s structural documentation was opened through the internal database,” he explains. “The request came through one of the secured workstations inside the estate network, but no one has used that computer in over a month.”
“Was anything downloaded?” I ask.
“No.”
Enzo’s brow pinches. “Copied?”
“No.” Rowan shifts the screen again, highlighting several lines of code in the log.
“The system shows a user opening the blueprint files and navigating through several sections of the estate layout,” he says.
“But there was no export event, no duplication trigger, and no external transfer. Whoever accessed the files only viewed them.”
Dante leans against the wall with his arms crossed.
Rowan continues, “It triggered an alert because the archive is normally dormant. The system flagged the activity automatically.”
Enzo gestures toward the display. “What about the restricted wing?”
Rowan shakes his head. “That section was never uploaded to the logs.”
He enlarges another section of the blueprint on the screen.
“The system only contains the structural layout for the common and residential areas of the estate. The internal database doesn’t include the architectural or infrastructure documentation for the IT wing.”
The room grows noticeably quieter.
Enzo’s expression tightens. “So, the restricted section stayed blank?”
“Correct. That part of the estate has never been digitized.”
I fold my arms across my chest.
“The layout for the IT wing only exists on paper in the family vault.” I say.
Dante studies the screen again.
Enzo nods. “So, whoever accessed the files didn’t see anything important? That wing contains all of our records. The security of those servers needs focus. I’ll work on that. Just to be sure, Blackwater’s location is still concealed?”
“Correct.”
Enzo watches the display for another moment before the tension in his shoulders loosens. “Good.” He looks back to Rowan. “Move the archive and update the encryption.”
Rowan nods. “Already done. I tightened access permissions and added live monitoring to the archive logs. If anyone touches those files again, we’ll know immediately.”
The screen dims as he closes the log display. For now, it looks like a minor incident. But the way Dante continues watching the dark monitor tells me he’s not entirely convinced.
Neither am I.