Evening came softly, the slow burn of sunset painting the sky in muted pinks and ambers. The estate had fallen into its familiar hush—Joy reading to the triplets in the playroom, Izan tidying the garden, the faint hum of the staff moving through the halls. Yu stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a thin apron tied neatly around his waist.
He'd decided hours ago—he was going to make dinner for Adrian himself. Something warm, elegant, but intimate. Not just an Incubus's seduction, but a carefully crafted manipulation. Homemade dinner. Just the two of them.
The air smelled of roasted herbs and cream sauce, a delicate wine simmering on the stove. Yu took care plating the dishes, the presentation perfect but not showy—Adrian never liked excess. It had to feel real, human.
