The first rays of sunlight spilled into the Watson mansion, brushing the polished floors with gold. Jay stirred in her bed, still exhausted from the night's tension, her mind replaying the quiet, intimate moment with Keifer from late last night.
Before she could even sit up, the door to her room swung open—Keifer was already there, standing in the doorway, looking impossibly calm and perfectly composed, like he had slept for ten hours and had already solved all the problems of the world.
"Morning," he said casually, but his tone carried that unmistakable sharp edge—half teasing, half warning.
Jay blinked, still half asleep. "M-morning…" she stammered, rubbing her eyes. "Didn't you sleep?"
"I did," he replied smoothly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "But unlike you, I don't waste time lying around in bed."
Jay let out a small huff, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. "I was busy saving lives, Keifer. Someone has to do the work around here."
He smirked, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Ah… yes, our youngest surgeon. Untouchable, brilliant, and apparently too stubborn to even make breakfast herself."
Jay narrowed her eyes, suddenly alert. "What do you mean by that?"
Keifer tilted his head, crossing his arms, the picture of teasing arrogance. "It means," he said slowly, "that today, I'm taking care of you. Starting… right now."
Before she could react, he bent slightly, sweeping her off her feet with ease. Jay squealed, kicking lightly, but he held her firmly against his chest.
"Keifer! Put me down!" she protested, her voice a mixture of panic and laughter.
"Not happening," he said, smiling that cold, bossy smile that made her knees weak. "You're coming with me. Breakfast, coffee, maybe a little lesson in proper morning behavior."
Jay's protests turned into muffled laughter as he carried her down the vast hallways of the mansion, her arms wrapped around his neck instinctively. "You're insane!" she said, breathless.
"Insane enough to make you wake up properly," he replied, setting her down gently on a chair in the sunlit dining room. "Sit. Eat. And try not to look like you're about to fall asleep mid-bite."
Jay glared at him, but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "You're enjoying this way too much," she muttered.
Keifer leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed. "Of course I am. Watching you struggle is… entertaining. Don't tell me you enjoy being rescued?"
"I don't—okay, maybe a little," she admitted, her cheeks flushing.
"See? I knew it." His smirk widened. "Now, after breakfast, we're going to take a little walk in the garden. And yes, if you trip, I'll be there to catch you. Again. Consider it part of your… 'fiancé training.'"
Jay groaned dramatically. "Fiancé training? You're unbelievable."
"And yet," Keifer said, voice low and teasing, "you'll follow my rules anyway."
The morning stretched on like this—Keifer dropping by her room, lifting her effortlessly when she tried to sit or stand stubbornly, teasing her mercilessly, and Jay laughing, arguing, and sometimes surrendering to his bossy charm. By the time the sun was high, she realized something terrifying—and thrilling—at the same time: living with Keifer Watson was going to be a daily battle of wills, teasing, and stolen moments, and she wasn't sure who would win.
But one thing was clear: Keifer had shifted. The cold, untouchable man of last night had transformed into this teasing, authoritative, almost dangerously playful version of himself, and Jay had no choice but to follow along… because resisting him was impossible.