CHAPTER 4

The morning sun filtered through the breakfast nook, casting a serene glow over the estate that felt entirely at odds with the storm brewing inside Orion’s chest.

Noah was humming. It was a soft, airy tune that grated on Orion’s nerves because he knew exactly what or rather, who was responsible for it. Noah was dressed in a pair of slim-fit, pale blue slacks that hugged his wide, curvy hips and a white linen shirt that billowed slightly, making him look like a soft summer cloud. He was currently fussing with his fluffy brown hair in the reflection of a silver toaster, his big doe eyes sparkling with a level of excitement Orion hadn't seen in months.

"You're in a hurry," Orion remarked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He sat at the head of the table, a 6’4” titan clad in a sharp charcoal suit, looking every bit the ruthless CEO. He didn't have his breakfast; he had a black coffee and a tablet, though he hadn't looked at a single stock price all morning. His eyes were entirely on Noah.

"Oh, Orion! I didn't see you there," Noah chirped, turning around with a bright flush on his porcelain cheeks. He looked so pretty, so feminine, that Orion felt a possessive twitch in his jaw. "Marcus called this morning. He asked if I wanted to grab coffee at that little French bistro downtown. You know, to talk about the galleries in Paris? I’m so nervous! Do I look okay? Is my hair too messy?"

Orion’s grip on his coffee mug tightened until his knuckles turned white, the tattoos on his hands shifting as his muscles flexed. The thought of Marcus, a man who had watched Orion grow up, a man who should know better sitting across a table from Noah’s soft, innocent face was intolerable. He could already picture it: Marcus leaning in, pretending to care about art while staring at the lush, full chest Noah was so oblivious about.

"It’s a bit early for coffee," Orion said, his tone clipped.

"It’s eleven! That’s perfectly respectable," Noah laughed, walking over and patting Orion’s shoulder. He was so small compared to his nephew that he had to reach up significantly. "Don't be a grump, sweetheart. It’s just a little outing."

Orion stood up suddenly, his massive 6’4” frame looming over Noah, effectively blocking out the sun. Noah blinked, looking up with an innocent, slightly confused expression.

"Actually," Orion said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile that didn't reach his predatory eyes. "I have a gap in my schedule. And since Marcus is such an old friend of the family, I think it’s only right that I join you. I’ve been meaning to discuss some... business ventures with him anyway."

Noah’s face fell for a fraction of a second, a tiny pout that made his lips look incredibly soft before he forced a smile. "Oh. Well, I wouldn't want to bore you with our talk of paintings and travel, Orion. You’re such a busy man."

"I’m never too busy for family, Noah," Orion countered, his voice like velvet over iron. "And you’re so... delicate. I’d feel much better knowing I was there to keep an eye on things. You know how the city can be."

Noah sighed, his shoulders drooping, which only served to emphasize the soft, bouncy curve of his chest. "You really are like your father, so protective. Very well, you big bodyguard. But you have to promise not to talk about boring CEO things the whole time!"

"I promise," Orion murmured, his gaze dropping to Noah’s wide hips. "I’ll be on my best behavior."

The French bistro was exactly the kind of place Noah loved all white marble, fresh flowers, and soft accordion music. Marcus was already seated at a corner table, looking polished and expectant. When he saw Noah approaching, his eyes lit up with a hunger that Orion recognized instantly. It was the look of a man who thought he was about to have a very sweet dessert.

But that look vanished the moment Orion stepped out from behind Noah.

The height difference alone was enough to shift the atmosphere. Orion moved like a mountain, his presence swallowing the light in the small bistro. As they reached the table, Orion didn't wait for an invitation. He pulled out a chair for Noah, his hand lingering on the small of Noah’s back, guiding him down with a firm, possessive touch that sent a jolt of heat through his own palms.

"Marcus," Orion said, his voice a deep, resonant bass that seemed to vibrate the china on the table. He took the seat directly across from Marcus, leaving Noah to sit between them.

"Orion," Marcus stammered, his smile faltering. "I... I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you had that board meeting."

"Moved it," Orion said simply. He leaned back, his massive shoulders taking up nearly half the booth. He looked relaxed, but he was a coiled spring. "I couldn't let my uncle walk through the city alone. He’s much too precious to us."

Noah blushed, hiding his face behind a menu. "Orion, stop it. You’re making me sound like a porcelain doll."

"Aren't you?" Orion asked, his voice dropping an octave as he looked at Noah.

Marcus cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Well, as I was saying to Noah on the phone, the Louvre is undergoing a magnificent renovation. I thought we could discuss the private tours I can arrange."

Noah leaned forward, his doe eyes wide. "Private tours? Oh, Marcus, that sounds divine! I’ve always dreamed of seeing the Winged Victory without the crowds."

Orion watched as Noah leaned in, his soft, full chest pressing slightly against the edge of the table. He saw the way Marcus’s eyes tracked the movement, the way the older man’s gaze lingered on the pretty feminine face and the bouncy brown hair.

Under the table, Orion’s leg a pillar of solid muscle stretched out. He didn't mean to be subtle. He pressed his thigh firmly against Noah’s, a heavy, warm contact that made Noah jump slightly.

"Everything alright, Noah?" Orion asked, his expression one of perfect, innocent concern.

"Oh! Yes," Noah whispered, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. He didn't pull away. In his mind, it was just Orion being sweet and affectionate, as he always was. He let his own soft, curvy leg rest against Orion’s, seeking the comfort of his nephew’s strength in the face of his crush.

Orion felt the contact and nearly growled. The softness of Noah’s leg against his own was intoxicating.

"The Louvre is fine," Orion interrupted, his voice cutting through Marcus’s fluff like a knife. "But Noah has a very sensitive constitution. Large crowds, even private ones, can be quite draining for him. I think he’d prefer something more... secluded. Don't you, Noah?"

Noah blinked, looking between the two men. "Well, I... I suppose I do like quiet places."

"Exactly," Orion said, his eyes locking onto Marcus’s with a cold, dominant stare. "Perhaps I’ll just fly him out on the private jet next month. I can rent out the entire museum for an evening. That way, he doesn't have to worry about anyone else... bothering him."

The silent challenge in Orion’s eyes was clear: He is mine. My resource. My obsession. You are a guest in his life; I am the owner.

Marcus looked like he had swallowed a lemon. "That’s... very generous of you, Orion. But I was hoping to be his guide."

"I’m sure you were," Orion said, his hand moving above the table now, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Noah’s ear. His fingers lingered on Noah’s porcelain skin, feeling the heat radiating from his uncle’s blush. "But Noah already has everything he needs right here."

Noah, still completely oblivious to the war being waged over him, leaned into Orion’s touch. He looked at Marcus with an apologetic smile. "Orion is just so caring, Marcus. He’s always been like this. He’s such a sweet boy, really. He just wants the best for me."

Orion almost laughed. Sweet boy. He watched Marcus’s spirit break bit by bit as the lunch progressed. Every time Marcus tried to flirt, Orion would interject with a fact about Noah’s health, or a reminder of a family obligation, or simply a look so dominant that Marcus would lose his train of thought.

By the time the check arrived, Marcus looked exhausted.

"I... I think I have a meeting to get to," Marcus said, standing up hastily. "It was lovely seeing you, Noah. Orion."

"Likewise," Orion said, not moving an inch.

As Marcus scurried away, Noah let out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping back into the booth. His wide hips shifted, his bouncy ass settling into the plush cushion. "Well, that was... shorter than I expected. I don't think he’s going to ask me to Paris, Orion."

Orion reached out, his large hand covering both of Noah’s small ones on the table. He squeezed gently, his thumb tracing the delicate bones of Noah’s wrist.

"Don't worry about Marcus, Noah," Orion said, his voice a dark, possessive purr. "If you want to go to Paris, I’ll take you. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. You don't need him."

Noah looked up, his big doe eyes filled with gratitude. "You’re right, Orion. You always know how to make me feel better. What would I do without my favorite nephew?"

Orion’s eyes darkened as he stared at the soft, feminine man before him—the man who thought he was being "cared for" by a sweet boy, when in reality, he was being claimed by a giant.

"You'll never have to find out, Noah," Orion promised. "Never."