JAY JAY POV
Tita Serina had basically issued a royal decree: Keifer and I were going on a date. No arguments, no excuses, just a time and a place.
I decided to keep it simple—a white top and shorts
I walked out the front door, only to find the two main sources of my daily stress standing by the gate.
Keifer was leaning against his car, looking way too good for him own good
Jare was standing next to him, the two of them looking like they were in the middle of a very serious Brother-in-Law summit.
I plastered a mischievous smirk on my face as I approached them.
"Have fun with Mia tonight, Jare," I sang out, stopping just in front of them. "She's the only one inside, and the house is very... soundproof."
Jare's jaw practically hit the pavement. He went from "Protective Brother" to "Startled Tomato" in record time.
"Jay-Jay!" Jare stammered, his eyes darting toward the front door as if Mia was already standing there with a stopwatch.
I wasn't done. I leaned in, my eyes dancing with pure malice. "Seriously, Brother. I would love to see a niece or a nephew in nine months. Just make sure the nursery matches the wallpaper, yeah?"
"I am going to strangle you!" Jare roared, though his face was so red I thought he might actually combust.
Keifer, on the other hand, let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated through the air. He didn't look scandalized at all; if anything, he looked like he was taking mental notes.
"Listen to your sister, Jare," Keifer chimed in, stepping forward wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. "She's just looking out for our future. Besides, I think we're both heading in that direction eventually."
"Watson!" Jare hissed, pointing a finger at Keifer's nose. "If you put those thoughts in her head, I'm calling Papa!"
"Too late," Keifer murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of my hip as he looked down at me with that predatory, affectionate gaze. "We're already late for our date."
I giggled, tucking my head into the crook of Keifer's neck to hide my own blush. "Bye, Uncle Jare!"
"GET OUT OF HERE!" Jare yelled as we climbed into the car.
As Keifer pulled away from the curb, I looked at him—the solid, arrogant, beautiful jerk who had turned my world upside down. He caught my gaze, his smirk softening into that small, genuine smile he only ever saved for me.
"What? Is there something on my face?" he asked, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching out to catch my hand.
"Yeah, there is," I said, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes at him.
"What is it?" Keifer asked, his voice dropping into that amused, gravelly register.
"That arrogance," I shot back, lifting my chin. "Wipe it off. It's taking up too much space in the car."
Keifer didn't even flinch. Instead, he slowed the car down as we hit a red light and turned his whole body toward me.
"I think it's better if you wipe it off," he said, his gaze dropping to my mouth. "With your sweet lips."
SMACK.
I delivered a sharp hit to his shoulder
"Oof," he grunted, though he was laughing—that low, husky sound that always made my heart do a frantic caffeinated sprint.
We finally reached our destination. It was a beautiful, upscale spot, the kind of place that screamed Keifer Watson's taste. He turned off the engine, hopped out, and before I could even reach for the handle, he was there, pulling the door open for me.
"Since when did you learn to be a gentleman?" I asked, arching an eyebrow as I stepped out of the car.
"Ever since I met you," Keifer said sincere
I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing.
"What?" Keifer asked, looking genuinely confused.
"I had to punch you so many times before you even learned how to be a 'gentle' anything," I reminded him, adjusting my top. "Your version of a gentleman usually involves kidnapping me or making me walk into walls."
"So what?" Keifer shrugged, a lazy smirk returning to his lips. "It worked, didn't it? You're here. You're wearing my ring. And you're about to go on a date with me."
Just as I was about to think of a witty comeback, I saw it. A couple was walking nearby, pushing a stroller with the most adorable, chubby-cheeked baby I had ever seen.
"Baby!" I said, my voice softening instantly. I pointed toward the little human, my heart doing that weird, mushy thing. "Look, Keifer! It's so cute!"
Keifer looked in that direction for all of two seconds before turning his focus back to me.
"Want to make one?" Keifer asked.
I froze. My breath hitched in my throat as if I'd just been plunged into ice water.
"W-what?!" I stammered, my face going full red
He didn't back down. He stepped into my personal space, his shadow completely swallowing mine, and leaned down until his lips were inches from my ear.
"Every time we do it, you always take a birth control pill, Mrs. Watson," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a thousand electric shocks straight to my toes. "Don't think I haven't noticed. You're so careful... but eventually, I might want to see a version of you that doesn't need to be so careful."
Bloody hell. Bloody. Hell.
"Keifer!" I hissed, delivering a high-voltage slap to his chest. "We're in public! And we're seventeen! I am not having a baby while I'm still worrying about calculus exams!"
Keifer let out a low, dark chuckle, catching my hand before I could hit him again. He brought it to his lips, kissing my knuckles while his eyes burned into mine.
"I'm just saying," he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips. "The offer is on the table. Infinitely."
"The offer is being declined and blocked!" I snapped, turning on my heel and stomping toward the restaurant entrance.
my face was so hot I was surprised I wasn't setting the pavement on fire.
"Hey! Wait for your fiancé!" he laughed, his heavy footsteps easily catching up to mine.
Why? Jay-Jay. Why did you have to point at the baby? You basically just handed him a weaponized flirtation!
The date went surprisingly well. It was one of those rare moments where the chaos of Section E felt a million miles away. For once, I wasn't punching him or swearing at him; I was just... talking. I told him everything—about growing up in London, the rainy afternoons in Camden, and the secrets I'd kept locked away. He listened to every word, his dark eyes never leaving my face, occasionally leaning in like he was trying to memorize the sound of my voice.
When I asked him about his life, he didn't hold back either. No strategies, no word traps. Just the raw truth of being a Watson.
"Jay," Keifer said suddenly, his voice dropping into that serious, weighted tone that made my heart do a nervous little stutter.
"What?" I asked, setting my glass down.
"I have to go to London soon," he said.
The air in the restaurant suddenly felt very thin. London? My home? The place I'd just fled from? "Why?"
"Inheritance," he said, reaching across the table and taking my hand. He held it so tight, like he was afraid if he let go, I'd vanish. "There are things my mom saved for me—legalities, assets—that I need to claim. It's a mess, Jay."
"Can I come with you?" I asked. The thought of him being in my city without me felt wrong. Besides, I could show him the best tea shops and—
"No, Jay. It's dangerous," Keifer said firmly, his gaze hardening. "I'm going there to fight for what my mom left behind. My family... the elders, even my own father... they aren't exactly welcoming. If you're there, you're a target. They'll see you as my weakness."
I bit my lip and nodded slowly. I knew that look.
—the one where he was already ten steps ahead, calculating how to keep me breathing.
"You're safe here with your family," he continued, his thumb tracing the ring on my finger. "Jare, Angelo, Aries, Percy... they can all protect you while I'm gone. I've already talked to them."
"When are you leaving?" I asked, my voice sounding smaller than I intended.
"Maybe after Valentine's Day," Keifer said.
"That's in two weeks," I whispered.
Fourteen days.
He didn't say anything. He just took my hand, pulled it to his lips, and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to my knuckles. The silence between us was heavy, filled with a million things we didn't have time to say.
Two weeks.
I looked at him
"You better come back in one piece, Keifer," I threatened, though my eyes were starting to sting. "Because if you don't, I'm going to find your ghost and punch it."
Keifer let out a low, dark chuckle, his eyes burning with that familiar, possessive fire. "I'm not going anywhere, Mrs. Watson. I've spent too much time claiming you to let some London elders take me out. I'll come back for you. Infinitely."
I smiled, though the thought of him being an ocean away makes my stomach do a nervous little flip. Just as we paid the bill and headed out to the parking lot, the sky didn't just leak—it opened up.
A sudden, violent tropical downpour slammed into the pavement, turning the world into a gray blur of wind and water.
"We can't go home like this," Keifer said, squinting through the windshield as the wipers struggled to keep up with the deluge.
"So what? It's just rain," I said "I've survived worse in Camden."
"Jay, there are storms happening. Real ones," Keifer said, his voice dropping into that protective, authoritative register. "The roads to your place flood fast, and the visibility is zero. I'm not risking you getting stuck in the middle of a flash flood."
He was right. The wind was howling now, shaking the car, and the lightning was illuminating the sky in jagged, terrifying bursts.
"We can't just sit here in the parking lot," I pointed out, shivering slightly as the dampness from the run to the car started to settle in.
Keifer nodded
He shifted the car into gear, his hands steady on the wheel.
"I know a place nearby," he said, turning the car away from the main road. "A small hotel the family own. We can wait out the peak of the storm there."
By the time the elevator doors slid shut behind us and we were inside the suite, I was shivering. The air conditioning was set to a crisp twenty degrees, and my soaked clothes felt like a layer of ice.
Keifer looked at me, his gaze sweeping over my damp white top, and then he immediately looked away, his jaw tightening.
"What is it?" I asked, hugging my arms.
"Nothing," he rasped, turning toward the linen closet to find a towel.
He came back with two thick, white towels. I didn't wait. I reached out and took one, stepping into his space before he could move. I stood on my tiptoes, draping the towel over his head and starting to dry his hair with a gentle, rhythmic motion.
"Dry yourself, Jay," Keifer said, his voice dropping an octave as he stood perfectly still.
I nodded, but I didn't stop. I was focused on the way the water droplets were clinging to his eyelashes. I looked into his eyes—they were so full of that raw, dark love, and the way the moisture clung to his skin only made that intensity worse.
A single water droplet trailed down his forehead, slid over the bridge of his nose, and paused on the curve of his bottom lip before disappearing into the collar of his shirt.
My breath hitched. The air in the room suddenly felt ten times heavier than the rain outside.
"I think you should change your shirt," I whispered, my voice sounding more breathless than I wanted it to. "Or else you might catch a cold."
Keifer nodded, but he didn't move away. He reached up, his large, warm hands covering mine where they were still holding the towel against his head. He pulled my hands down, bringing them to his chest. Even through the soaked fabric, I could feel the frantic, heavy thud of his heart against my palms.
"And you?" he murmured, his eyes searching mine. "Your top is see-through, Jay-Jay. If I'm changing, you're changing. Right now."
I looked down at myself and gasped, the blush finally hitting my face in a high-voltage wave.
"Turn around!" I squeaked, clutching the towel to my chest.
Keifer let out a low, dark chuckle—that signature Watson sound that always made my resolve feel like it was made of wet paper. He didn't turn around immediately; he leaned in, his nose brushing against mine, his breath hot and smelling of the mint he's always addicted to.
"We're engaged, remember?" he whispered, his thumb tracing the back of my hand. "I've seen you in a red silk nightdress, Mrs. Watson. A wet white top isn't exactly a state secret."
"Keifer!" I hissed, giving him a firm shove toward the bathroom.
"Fine, fine," he laughed, finally relenting and heading toward the en-suite. "There are bathrobes in the closet. Put one on while I see if I can call down for some dry clothes."
Keifer left the room, presumably to track down something wearable from the hotel staff. I didn't waste any time. I grabbed a towel and did a quick, frantic job of drying my hair until it was just damp and wavy. Then came the hard part.
I reached behind my back, fumbling for the zipper of my top. It was one of those tiny, invisible zippers that are a dream to put on but a literal Nightmare on Elm Street to take off—especially when the fabric is soaked and sticking to your skin like glue.
"AHH!" I hissed in frustration, yanking at the metal tab.
It wouldn't budge. I tried twisting my arms at an angle that probably violated several laws of human anatomy, but it was stuck. Trapped in my own clothes. Brilliant, Jay-Jay.
"I might just rip this shirt at this point," I muttered, my face heating up from the struggle.
Then, I heard the door click. Heavy, familiar footsteps thudded across the carpet. I froze, my hands still tangled behind my shoulder blades. Before I could even squeak out a 'stay back,' Keifer was there.
He didn't say a word. He just stepped into my personal space, his warmth radiating off him like a furnace, and gently but firmly took my hands away from the zipper.
I could feel his hands—large, warm, and steady—against the cold skin of my back. A shiver that had nothing to do with the air conditioning raced down my spine.
"Stop struggling, Jay-Jay," Keifer murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, vibrato-rich register that always made my knees feel like they were made of cotton candy. "You're going to hurt yourself. Or break the zipper."
"It's already broken!" I squeaked, my heart doing a frantic, caffeinated sprint. "It's stuck!"
"It's not stuck. You're just impatient," he whispered.
I felt his fingers brush against my skin as he worked the metal tab. Every touch felt like a tiny, high-voltage electric shock. I stayed perfectly still, staring at the wall, my breath hitching as I felt the cool air hit my back as the zipper finally, slowly, began to slide down.
"There," Keifer rasped, his voice sounding thicker than before.
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