Luke Destiano carried the unconscious, burgundy-clad phantom bridal-style through the hidden, strictly guarded servants' corridors of the grand palace. He kept Felix pressed tightly against his solid chest, shielding him from any prying security guards or the invasive cameras of the paparazzi. He didn't want his family seeing this. He didn't want anyone seeing this.

He slipped into his private, ultra-luxurious residential wing of the estate, gently laying Felix down onto the massive king-sized bed. Felix was snoring softly, looking effortlessly beautiful and cute with his messy black hair sprawled across the silk pillows, completely scentless and vulnerable. Luke stood over him, his icy blue eyes fixed on the sleeping man with an intense, lingering gaze. His lips still burned where Felix had kissed him. Finally, shaking his head to clear his short-circuited brain, Luke pulled the heavy velvet duvet up to Felix's chin, turned on his heel, and quietly exited the room to sleep in the distant guest wing.

Bright morning sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the master suite.

Felix’s rosy-pink eyes fluttered open. He let out a low, agonizing groan, clutching his pounding head from the severe tequila hangover. He blinked against the light, looking around the unfamiliar, multi-million-euro luxury bedroom. Then, like a sudden bolt of lightning, the memories of last night violently flashed through his mind.

The intense flamenco tango. Throwing champagne glasses over his shoulder. Smacking his compact mirror into a giant athlete. Calling Spain's number two bachelor "Mr. Fluffy Ears." And... the lingering, affectionate peck right on his lips before passing out.

A massive, suffocating surge of absolute embarrassment washed over him. His pale skin instantly turned a vibrant, burning pink from his neck to his forehead.

"No, no, no! Tell me I didn't kiss the boyband tycoon!" Felix gasped in pure horror, gripping his silky black hair in a panic. "Oh my god, the shame! I want to dissolve right into the floor! I am a world-class elite specialist, what is wrong with me?!"

The bathroom door clicked open.

Luke stepped out into the bedroom, wearing nothing but low-slung black sweatpants, casually drying his damp blonde hair with a white towel. His broad 6'2 shoulders and lean, heavily muscular chest were on full display, dripping with water droplets. He stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking onto the bed.

Felix was no longer under the duvet. He was currently standing precariously on the outdoor balcony railing, one leg hitched completely over the edge, fully prepared to plummet to the ground below.

Luke raised a sharp blonde eyebrow, crossing his muscular arms with a teasing, confident smirk. "What exactly are you doing?"

Felix winced dramatically, his face flushing even deeper as his fingers gripped the cold metal rail. "Definitely not trying to jump the rail because I'm too shamed to see your face!"

Luke stepped closer to the glass door, his voice deep, smooth, and laced with amusement. "Then what are you doing?"

Felix sweated nervously, his doll-like eyes darting around frantically before he pointed a slim finger down toward the estate courtyard. "Look! A lovely bird! Down there! So majestic!"

Before Luke could even react to the utterly ridiculous distraction, Felix flashed a breathtaking, dangerously handsome smirk, snapped a quick, playful peace sign ($text{v}$) with his fingers, and threw his entire body completely backward off the balcony edge.

Luke’s heart dropped violently into his stomach. "Wait! Are you insane?! Stop!"

He broke into a hard sprint, crashing against the balcony railing and looking down frantically, fully expecting a tragedy.

Instead, Felix’s elite assassin training kicked in flawlessly. Mid-air, his slim fingers precisely hooked into a sturdy, heavy-duty steel zipline wire left behind by the post-party decorations crew. With a sharp, metallic ZIP, Felix effortlessly glided over the towering courtyard walls, completely bypassing the mansion's advanced security systems. Hovering over the outer perimeter, Felix looked back over his shoulder, tossing his black hair in the wind and waving a final, triumphant peace sign at the completely stunned billionaire standing half-naked on the balcony.

The elevator doors of the private residential skyscraper chimed open, and Velvet Trigger slumps into his penthouse lounge. His custom burgundy blazer was slightly wrinkled, and he looked completely exhausted, dragging his feet across the marble floor.

Miya was standing in the kitchen, already dressed in a crisp, pristine pastry chef’s apron, holding a digital clipboard. The moment she saw him walk in, her face twisted into pure, unadulterated fury. She slammed her clipboard onto the marble counter, her voice echoing violently through the suite.

"Where the hell have you been, Velvet?!" Miya yelled, her Alpha presence flaring. "You disappeared right after that dance floor stunt! Do you have any idea how annoying it was to track down and handle the third informant completely on my own?! I had to do all the heavy clean-up while you were playing sleeping beauty in some random bed!"

"Bestie, please, lower your voice. My head is exploding," Felix pouted dramatically, rubbing his temples with a cute whine. "The boyband tycoon put too much tequila in my system. And besides, I successfully stole the first target's encrypted tablet! See?"

He proudly pulled the data tablet from his inner pocket, waving it like a golden trophy. Miya snatched it away with a glare, checking the clock on the wall. "Great. Now go change. You are officially late for your first day of school."

"I am not going to university today! I’m tired!" Felix complained loudly, throwing his body face-down onto the plush velvet sofa. "My legs hurt from the flamenco remix, and I almost fell off a mansion balcony this morning. I'm taking a sick day!"

Miya’s lips curled into a dangerous, cold smirk. "Oh, really? You think you have a choice? You will go to campus today because I say so."

SNAP!

Felix’s assassin reflexes twitched violently as a loud, sharp crack echoed through the living room. He bolted upright. Miya had pulled a short, leather training whip directly out of her tactical gear bag.

"Get your cute butt up right now! Move!" Miya shouted, cracking the whip against the back of the sofa, chasing him across the room. "Get changed into your student gear before I use you for target practice!"

"Aaaaah! Domestic violence! You’re a monster, Miya!" Felix screamed comically, leaping over the designer chairs like a terrified cat. "Fine, fine! I’m moving! Stop hitting the velvet, it’s custom-made!"

"Sit down in the vanity chair right now!" Miya commanded, pointing the leather whip.

Felix rapidly switched into an oversized, pastel-yellow sweater and neat trousers, sprinting over to the mirror and plopping down, trembling comically with wide, puppy-dog eyes. The moment he sat, Miya instantly dropped the whip, grabbed a comb and high-end styling gel, and completely transformed her expression into a focused, meticulous stylist. She began expertly parting and brushing his silky, shoulder-length black hair into a perfectly neat, innocent, yet breathtakingly handsome university look.

"See? Was that so hard?" Miya said calmly, pulling a dark strand into place. "If you don't look completely immaculate on campus, people will think your successful baker older sister doesn't care about you. Now hold still while I finish your bangs."

"You have severe mood swings, bestie," Felix sniffled cutely, crossing his arms with a pout. "I’m writing a bad review for your bakery."